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bloatedandalone04 · 10 months

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Runaway - Too Close Part 3

Series Masterlist

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 11.6k | Previous Part | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The sun was just beginning to slip through the blinds that covered the window beside the bed, but you have yet to get more than a few minutes of sleep. You were far too high on excitement and happiness that came with wearing the ring that committed you to Leon for as long as you wore it.

Which you planned on being the rest of your life.

You had fallen asleep for maybe five minutes before you were woken up by Leon’s lips on your neck. He peppered kisses along your collarbones and shoulders until you rewarded him by opening your eyes and tugging on his hair in response.

Neither of you could stay asleep for too long before you were waking each other up and basking in the giddiness that filled you.

Y/n Kennedy had a nice ring to it.

Literally.

As Leon moves impossibly closer to you, the sheets draped over both your waists, you raise your hand and watch as the sunlight reflects off the gem. “I can’t stop staring at it,” you say quietly, your words barely able to get out due to the permanent smile on your face.

Leon hums in response, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before lifting his head and looking at your still raised hand. “You have the rest of our lives to stare at it,” he tells you, placing another kiss to your arm as his hand lifts up to wrap around your wrist. He pulls your hand down and laces your fingers together. “Kiss me.”

You oblige with zero hesitation, turning your head to the side and pressing your lips to his. He moves to hover over you, pushing your joined hands against the mattress beside your head.

Your lips, though swollen from kissing him for hours on end since he proposed, desperately moved against his as your free hand traveled to his hair. Bunching it up in your fingers, you tug on the strands as his hand reaches down to grip your waist. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to be Mrs Kennedy,” his words came out muffled due to his mouth barely detaching from yours.

As his lips trail down your neck, you admire the way the ring shines through his light hair and take pleasure in how the short strands become tangled around the band. “I can’t believe you waited so long to ask me,” you tease quietly, goosebumps emitting on the skin of your neck as he laughs breathlessly against it.

“When would you have preferred me to have asked?” He teased back, his hands tugging on the shirt of his he gave you to wear to bed last night. “When I was pretending I was asleep in the guestroom at your house or when I was in your bed with my head between your thighs?”

Your face heats up at his words and the way they turn you on effortlessly.

God, the achingly beautiful man who was currently sucking a mark into the skin of your abdomen is going to be your husband?

You felt like you were dreaming. And this was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

Tugging on his arms to pull him back up, you press a chaste kiss to his lips before tilting your head to the side. “You could’ve proposed to me just five days into the relationship and I would’ve said yes,” you grin at him and guide his head towards your neck again. “But I’m still the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

Leon hummed in response, his lips peppering kisses over your skin once again, assuming that was what you had wanted him to do when you pushed his face towards the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

Your next words had him nearly losing every ounce of self control he had in him. “I don’t care what my dad thinks anymore, I want to feel you,” you sounded more desperate than he had ever heard you, something that had him growing hard against the confinements of his sweatpants. “Please, Leon, make me yours.”

Instantly he knew what you really wanted and he was more than happy to oblige.

Dipping his head down, he wasted no time in sucking on the skin of your neck, his tongue poking out to run along each and every purple mark he made on you. The moans you let out only fueled him to continue until he had sucked a fair amount of hickey’s into the skin of your shoulder, neck and collar bones

The sight he was met with when he pulled away had him going feral.

To see you like this, completely marked and tainted by him after holding back for so long…he was sure you had never looked more beautiful than you did right now. “There,” he murmured as he admired his work, pushing himself up so he was kneeling above you. “But no amount of those could change the fact that you were already mine before this.”

His possessive words send a hot jolt through you and you whimper, refraining from pulling him back down.

His hands teasingly begin to push down the grey sweats that hung on his hips, “You were mine from the first second I saw you,”

Losing all self control, you sit up and push him so he is on his back, his task of ridding himself from the article being forgotten as you move to straddle his waist. “Keep talking to me like that and we won’t leave this bed for the rest of the day,”

He shrugs, his hands finding their home on your hips. “You say that like it would be a problem for me,” he says, his voice sounding even deeper than usual. The sound makes you feel dizzy in the best way. “If I had my way, I’d stay in bed with you everyday for the rest of our lives.”

Placing your hands on his chest, you can’t help but love the way the ring looks from this point of view; your left hand resting on his abs and the gem staring back at you. You were sure you would never get over how pretty this ring is. “Who says we can’t do that?” You lean down and brush your nose against his. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got no reason to leave the bed every morning. I can be your perfect little house wife while you go out and do whatever it is that you do and still won’t tell me about.”

“And I never will,” he says and grabs your wrists, tugging you down so your chest is pressed to his. “But the image you just put in my head about you being my pretty house wife…fuck.”

You felt like a hypocrite; hating the fact that your father never let you leave the house but loving the idea of staying home in a house that belonged to only you and Leon for the rest of your life. Yet, you didn’t care.

You would gladly stay locked away if it meant it was Leon who came home to you at the end of every day.

“Can you imagine how I will look when I’m carrying your baby?” You knew the image that would be put into his head with your words would drive him wild. He had an overwhelming desire to have a semi-normal life with you that included moving into a house together, getting married and eventually having kids.

The thought of you carrying his child never failed to send him into a frenzy. “Fuck, princess, don’t do this to me,” his head fell back against the pillow as his eyes closed. “You keep talking like that and I might have to knock you up right here and now.”

“That might be hard since I’m on the pill,” you trail off, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t practice.”

At that Leon grabs a hold of your waist and connects your lips in a searing kiss. His tight hold on you left you powerless to do anything as he began to grind your hips down onto his, the friction beyond needed at this point, despite the fact that Leon had been taking you over and over again since the minute he slipped that ring on your finger.

You moan against his mouth before pulling away and trailing kisses down his neck. You trace your lips along the length of his chest, pressing soft kisses against the faded scars that littered his skin.

The usual feeling of sadness fills you as you pay extra attention to the scar from the bullet before you move on to trace your tongue along the lining of his sweats. Tugging the material down, you were about to take him into your mouth before he grabbed your hand, making you glance up at him. “I need you,” he pulled your body back up so it was hovering over his. “I need to feel you.”

You just grin at him and nod, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before reaching down and gripping the base of him. You tug the lacy material of your underwear down your legs with your freehand as your finger applies the faintest amount of pressure to his length. The both of you let out a relieved moan as you lifted your hips to be able to sink down onto him, his hands immediately moving to grip your waist.

His fingers bunch up the oversized shirt that still hung off your body, something he was glad you decided to keep on. As much as he loved to see you completely exposed to him, he couldn’t deny the pride that filled him whenever he found himself buried inside you while you wore his clothing.

It was dirty and the possessive feeling came back full swing but he loved it. He loved how you single handedly changed his perspective on relationships and love itself, successfully bringing out sides of him that he never knew he had.

Leon wasn’t one for relationships. He just didn’t see himself as one of those people who needed someone else for the rest of their lives. He didn’t see the point. Until he met you.

He was never possessive over anyone in his life, so to feel it every time he made eye contact with you was something he was quickly getting used to.

He finally understood those guys who bitch and complain whenever they’re away from their significant others as he feared he was becoming one of those guys, but he didn’t care enough to stop it.

The view he was currently being met with as you begin to fuck yourself onto him was one he wants to burn into his head just so he could go back to this exact moment whenever he wanted.

The sight of you on top of him, wearing nothing but his old shirt he’s now got an unfathomable amount of fondness for, sent his body into overdrive. He pushed the shirt up just enough for him to be able to see himself disappearing into you with every bounce of your body.

It has him letting out a loud groan, his eyes raking up your body and landing on the trail of marks that began at your collar bone and went all the way up your neck. “Fuck, you look so hot like this,” he mumbled, his heart skipping a couple beats at the laugh that escaped you which quickly turned into a moan as you sunk back down on him. “So fucking perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Leon,” you murmured, blushing under his intense stare.

“You are, baby,” his hands slide down to your thighs, his fingers gently digging into your skin. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect for me. God, I love you.”

Keeping his hands on your thighs, he lifts his body up effortlessly. With his chest now pressed to yours, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and connect your lips in a kiss. Now that he was sitting upright, you had to crane your neck a bit due to the size difference between the two of you.

Leon’s hands slide up your back and tangle in your hair, his grip on you allowing him to take control of the kiss. “I love you,” you mumble into the kiss, gently raking your nails down his back. “You’re too good for me.”

He pulls away and shakes his head, his blue eyes staring into yours. “You’ve got it all wrong,” he says quietly, holding back various groans at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. “You’re too good for me. My sweet girl.”

You whimpered as you lifted yourself up slowly, the speed making you feel every inch of him. “Leon,” it was all you could say.

“I know, baby,” he murmured as he helped guide your slow movements. “Fuck, you feel so good, taking me so well. You were made for me.”

You really were. Your bodies fit so well together, you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else after you’ve gotten a taste of Leon Kennedy. When you remembered that you wouldn’t have to, seeing as you were now scheduled to wed, it further fueled your body to move faster on top of him.

The feeling of your tight walls stretching around him had Leon leaning in and latching his mouth onto your neck to keep him from emitting the guttural sounds that threatened to escape his throat.

Your body was beginning to heat up and your legs burned with overexertion, making you slow down once again. As you rolled your hips into his, you lean forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder, a breathless plea leaving your lips, “Fuck me, Leon, please,”

At the sound of your desperate beg, Leon looks down at you, his eyes darkening even more at your fucked out expression. “Yeah, want me to fuck you?” He asked and nearly came when you only whimpered in response. He straightened his posture and tightly gripped your hips to keep you still as he began to thrust upwards.

You moan loudly, tightly holding onto his shoulders.

Each time he sunk back into your heat your walls clenched around him, hugging him as if your body was molded just for his own personal use. “Just like that, princess,” he praised and his words only made you even more delirious with need.

You grab one of his wrists and place his hand flat against your lower stomach, pressing it harder against your skin every time he bottoms out. Pulling up your shirt with your free hand just enough to be able to see his girth, you moan at the sight. “You’re so big,” you murmured as you looked down to watch as he disappeared inside you. “I can feel you right here.”

Your words, of course, go straight to his head, and he smirks. It is quickly wiped away, however, when he glanced down and saw the outline of himself pressing against your abdomen from the inside. “Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes now glued to the way he bulged with every thrust of his hips. “Fuck, you’re so hot. I love you so much.”

You grin down at him and begin to bring your body down to meet his thrusts.

You wouldn’t last much longer, your body still sensitive from your previous highs and making your release come much faster than it would have had you not already come around him multiple times since you arrived.

Leaning down, you rest your forehead against his as you put most of your energy into lifting your hips to be able to meet the pace of his, your bodies coming together to create an almost overwhelming feeling of bliss.

With his grip on your waist tight, Leon had full control over the situation, even though he was currently the one on the bottom. He was unbelievably strong and he used that to his advantage, something you didn’t mind one bit. If anything, his strength was something that you found undeniably attractive and it never failed to leave you light headed every time he inflicted it upon you.

When his teeth lightly nip at your jaw you grip onto him even tighter as your body stills. With Leon still drilling into your heat, you had no choice but to cry out as he brought you to that everlasting peak once more, the surge of your release washing over you for the fourth time since his proposal.

You feared you would be bed ridden once you were married and the two of you could finally have your ways with each other whenever you wanted.

The thought has you clenching around him tightly, causing him to stop the quick thrusts of his hips as he spilled into you, tainting you beyond repair as your greedy, tight walls took everything he gave you.

He came with a low grunt right next to your ear and the sound has you whimpering softly against his neck. Leon pulls away to grip the sides of your face, guiding you into a bruising kiss that leaves you breathless.

Pulling away with a grin, you use whatever energy you have left to push him back so you can lay next to him. He wraps his arm around you, tucking your head in the crevice between his bicep and forearm and hooking your leg around his waist.

With a deep sigh, you ask, “How long have we been in bed for?”

Leon laughs breathlessly, using his free hand to turn the digital alarm clock that was on his nightstand towards him. “Almost ten hours,” he answers before turning back to you. “Not long enough for me.”

You roll your eyes and press a quick kiss to his chest. “We should probably get up soon. We have some news we need to deliver to a certain someone, afterall,” you point out and feel the way he sighs but nods in understanding. “Speaking of, can you pass me my phone? I can only imagine how many times he’s called since I left.”

He untangles himself from you and grabs both yours and his phone from their places on the nightstand before handing it to you.

You take it from him with a soft, “Thanks,” before settling back into his side as you wait for your phone to turn on. “Fuck.”

“What?”

You scroll through the endless messages you received from your father and a few unknown numbers, no doubt from some of your fathers men. He probably gave them your number to see if they had better luck at reaching you when his own messages had gone unanswered. “He gave my phone number to some of the guys,” you mutter and switch to your call logs.

“What?” Leon asks again as he waits for his own phone to turn back on. The decision to power both devices off and just be with each other was a mutual one and it was made pretty quickly after he showed you the ring and then your phone went off with the first of many calls from your dad. “You should get it changed. It’s not safe for them to have it.”

He seriously couldn’t believe your dad had given your personal information to complete strangers. He knew the guys who worked for your dad, and other than Harvey, all of them could not be trusted. It pissed him off, the fact that he didn’t care so long as he got a response from you in the end.

“Yeah, I will,” you agree, then click on your voicemail. “Hang on.”

Putting your phone on speaker, you hold it up so both you and Leon could hear what your father had left on your voicemail. “Hi, sweetheart,” you don’t bother to hold back the cringe at the name. “I’m so sorry for everything. You’re right, you’re your own person and I can’t keep you here when you have your own life to live. I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding. Please, come home so we can talk about this in person. It’s not safe for you to be wandering around when you’re angry.”

He assumed you had left to go for a drive or a walk to cool off, not expecting you to run to Leon for some much needed comfort.

“Hey, you said you wanted to start looking for a job, right? Maybe we can talk about that when you come home, too,” you hated the fact that he said when and not if, assuming that’d you come crawling back after hearing his apology. “I’m really sorry, honey. I hope to see you soon.”

The message ends shortly after that and leaves you speechless. Luckily, Leon murmurs something about him receiving a voicemail, too.

Tapping the speaker button, he waits for your dad to start speaking again, this time through his phone. “Hey, Leon. I was hoping to catch you before you went to bed, that is why you turned your phone off, right? Anyway, Y/n and I had a small disagreement earlier and she left the house. That was a few hours ago and she hasn’t come back yet. She left with a bag, and I can’t help but fear the worst. You and I both know how dangerous the streets around town can be, especially as of lately,” his tone sounded different now, like he was playing up a fake worried voice, when he actually sounded like he was holding himself back from completely going off on him. There was no way he knew you went to Leon, right? You had been so careful. “If you see her, give me a call. If she doesn’t return home by tomorrow morning, I want you and Harvey to go out looking for her. We have a lot more to discuss. Take care and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The message ends there and you furrow your brows as you sit up slightly. “He sounded so different,” you say quietly, hating the way your nerves were beginning to eat you alive, so much so that you couldn’t find comfort in the way Leon rubbed his hand down your back. “You don’t think he knows, right?”

Leon seemed a lot less worried than you, but there was a hint of hesitation in his voice as he waved you off. “No,” he answered as he dropped his phone beside him on the bed. “No, I mean, how could he? We act like strangers around each other when we’re with him, there’s no way he found out.”

You nod but his words didn’t assure you. “But he sounded really mad, like he knew something we didn’t,” you point out. “He sounded mad at you.”

He brushed you off again as he sat up with a groan, his body sore from all the….activities he put it through during the last sixteen hours. “Probably because I missed his call,” he says and that actually puts your wandering mind at ease, even if just a bit. “Don’t worry, baby, we’re good.”

Nodding, you run your hand through his hair in an attempt to tame the messy blond strands. “Yeah,” you agree, smiling once his hair was fixed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Still, we should probably head over there soon. I don’t want him to send out a whole search party.”

The pair of you get up shortly after that, with Leon running out to your car to grab the bag you left on the passenger seat. You had failed to take it in with you, and during your eventful night, you hadn’t needed anything in the bag until now.

After dressing yourself in an oversized sweater and jeans, you take Leon’s awaiting hand and let him lead you out to his own car. You both decided to show up together, to give your dad a warning just in case he was watching the window while he waited for you to return.

As Leon made the all too familiar drive to your house you couldn’t help but feel a sinking sensation in your stomach. Despite Leon’s attempts at calming you down, you still weren’t reassured about how much your dad knew.

You knew your father quite well, and knew when he was lying or not telling you something. His voice became tighter, more strained and more forceful. That was exactly how he sounded in the voicemail he sent to Leon.

But on the other hand, how could he have known? Sure, you had let it slip that you were aware of what his job really was, but you never mentioned Leon, not once. And Leon was right, whenever he was at your house with your dad, the two of you acted like complete strangers whenever you were in the same room.

You were sure that you hadn’t given any indication that you were together and had been for quite some time now.

As you gaze out the window at the passing scenery, you absentmindedly reach up to place your hand over your chest, expecting to feel the cool chain of your necklace. When you don’t feel anything, you panic a bit and glance down to see that you weren’t wearing the necklace that Leon had gotten you, like you thought you were the whole time.

With his hand placed firmly on your thigh while he kept the other on the wheel, Leon glanced over at you when he saw you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. “What’s wrong?”

You look over at him and see the hint of concern in his eye. Dropping your hand from your chest and instead placing it over his, you give him a tight smile. “Nothing,” you say but can tell he didn’t believe you. “I’m good.”

Knowing that there was some tension among you, due to the nerves about telling your dad about your relationship, Leon didn’t push you and instead moved his hand so his fingers were laced with yours before looking back at the road.

You weren’t sure what to expect when you returned home, your hand tightly clasped in Leon’s as he let you lead him this time.

Maybe your dad was still in bed? Unlikely since it was nearing one in the afternoon, but the option was never ruled out.

Maybe he was waiting in the den? Likely.

Maybe he had already sent out his guys to go look for you, even without ever hearing back from the best one, Leon. Also very likely.

As you push the front door open and step into the unnecessarily large entryway, your eyes meet the ones of your father almost instantly. He stands from his seated position on the stairs and clenches his jaw when he sees the way Leon had stepped in front of you just slightly, shielding your body only partly from your fathers cold eyes.

Then, almost eerily, the hard stare drops and he smiles at you, seeming to ignore the way Leon was protecting you with his body. “Y/n,” he says sweetly, making no move to step down the stairs and greet you with a hug, something you were so used to him doing every time he saw you. “I knew you’d come back.”

He finally glances at the tall blond next to you, his eye twitching as he takes in the dark marks that were barely visible under his black fitted shirt. There was no way…

“And I see Leon has come back with you,” he nods at the man beside you in a form of greeting. “So, you got my message, after all.”

He thinks Leon was just bringing you home? That he had found you and took you back to your dad under his orders? Maybe you really were reading too much into it and your dad didn’t know a thing about your relationship.

That had you stepping forward, your shoulder now pressed to Leon’s while you keep your hand locked in his. “Not exactly,” you start and glance up at your boyfriend, and it was then when your father saw the ring on your finger. “Dad, I have something to tell you.”

Before you could confess, your dad held his hand up and successfully shut you up with the simple gesture, your shoulders dropping when you caught sight of the necklace that hung from his fingers. The very same one you were looking for back in the car, and it was then when Leon realized why you were fidgeting so much while you felt around on your chest.

“Let me guess,” he began and his tone had Leon’s grip on you tightening. Your father’s eyes narrowed on the various purple marks that peeked out from under your shirt, as well as the ones that littered the skin of your neck. His mind went back to all the times he saw Leon’s skin look similar, and he now knew who the person was that marked him. It was right in front of him this whole time. “You two have been seeing each other behind my back, and he’s filled your head with distasteful thoughts about me, the man who has protected you every second of every day since you were born. And let me guess, he’s the person you run off to whenever we have a disagreement. Am I wrong?”

Your mouth went dry and you stared at Leon in shock while he kept a straight face and continued to look at your father.

So it was true. You hadn’t been reading too much into it. Your dad knew everything and you didn’t even have to tell him.

So much for being ‘so careful’.

The men held eye contact as your dad asked, “Am I wrong, Leon?”

You felt your heart beating loudly in your ears as he clenched his jaw and shook his head. “No,” to not hear that being followed up by the usual sir he always referred to your dad by was a little beyond nerve wracking.

Your dad tsked, nodding curtly. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” he sighed heavily and you were quickly beginning to feel beyond creeped out at how calm he appeared. You could tell that Leon was feeling on edge, as well, but hid it a lot better than you did, unsurprisingly. “That’s going to have to come to an end.”

“Dad,” you say, your eyes widening, not really sure of what you were expecting him to say when confronted with his daughter and right hand man’s secret relationship. “No.”

“Yes, Y/n,” he says back, finally making his way down the last few steps and nearing the two of you. “You didn’t expect me to just be okay with this, did you?”

You struggle to find words as you shake your head, cowering closer to Leon in hopes to be provided with a sense of comfort. “No, but-”

“Clark,” Leon cut you off, clearly understanding how flustered you were getting and deciding to help you out a bit. “Listen to me for a minute, alright?”

Your dad laughed at that, his hand inching behind his body as if he was reaching for something. “And you. I trusted you. I trusted you with my life, with my daughter, with my house, and this is what I get?” He asked but didn’t give Leon the chance to answer. “You’re a traitor, Kennedy.”

Leon bit back a grunt at that and opened his mouth to ask, “Why? Because I fell in love with your daughter? Because I promised her a life you clearly couldn’t be bothered to give her?”

You give him a nervous look, tightening your hold on his hand just slightly. “No, not because of that,” your dad answered. “Because you’ve not only been using me, but you’ve been using her, as well.”

That had your brows furrowing as you looked at Leon’s broad shoulder when it tensed up. “What?”

“Clark,” Leon muttered, gripping your hand tighter when he felt you start to pull away. Things were quickly beginning to slip out of his control.

Clark just smirked as you tugged on Leon’s hand, trying to get him to turn to you as you needed to see if he had guilt in his eyes or not. “Leon, what is he talking about?”

“Nothing,” he said with a clenched jaw.

Your dad just laughed again. “Let’s not lie to her, Leon. If that even is your real name,” that made you even more confused and you stopped tugging on his hand, his stance not faltering in the slightest at your attempts to get him to look at you. Why wouldn’t he look at you?

“Leon, what is he talking about?” You ask again, this time more desperately than the last. You couldn’t help but feel left out, like you were missing something obvious that only the two men knew.

The sound of your voice had his stance breaking just slightly as he turned his head to look down at you. Guilt was, in fact, swimming in his blue eyes and it had you taking a few steps away from him. You didn’t get far seeing as he still had a firm hold on your hand. “Y/n,”

Your dad watched the whole thing with a smug smirk, his fingers fumbling around with the back of his pants. “Do you want to tell her or should I?” He asked and this had you pulling away from Leon with a sharp tug of your arm.

“What? Tell me what?” You were nearly shouting at this point and it made Leon wince as he refrained from reaching out to you again. If you needed space right now, he would give it to you, no matter how badly he wanted to take you into his arms and take you far away from this place.

Your lover opened his mouth to respond, but it seemed like your dad was going to be the bearer of bad news. “He’s been using us, sweetheart,” he began and didn’t give you any time to ask questions before continuing, “Leon’s not who you think he is, and he wasn’t who I thought he was, either. He doesn’t even live here, he lives across the state, where his real life is. Everything he’s told you has been a lie, a way to break our trust. He came here to get information about me so he could give it to his old pal Chris, isn’t that right, Leon?”

You stared at Leon’s back, hoping to anyone that was listening that this was some sick joke, a cruel prank, a lie your dad came up with in hopes it would break your trust for the man who stood completely still as he didn’t deny the accusation.

He didn’t deny a thing. With your heart in your throat, you ask, “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Leon turned his back on your dad and missed the way his hand wrapped around the cool metal of the gun he had stored in the back of his pants. “Y/n,” he started but didn’t know what to say to make this better for you. There was no easy way for you to hear this, he knew that. “Baby, I-”

“You used my dad to get information,” you mumble, trying to wrap your head around what was being said to you. Having Leon, who was quickly beginning to feel like a stranger at this point, so close to you didn’t help the feeling of betrayal that was filling your body. “Then used me to tell you the things he didn’t say because you knew I’d tell you anything you needed to know about him without question. You knew I’d confess to anything if it meant I got to have you in the end.”

Leon quickly shook his head, his heart breaking at the way your eyes filled with tears because of him. “No, no that’s not- I never used you,” he tried to reach for your hand but you pulled away from him, your fingers reaching for the ring that he had given you not even twenty four hours ago.

You were going to give it back to him.

“Stop, please,” he begged, not wanting to see you return the one thing that actually meant something to him, the thing that tied him to you for what should be the rest of his life. “I’ve loved you since the minute I met you. I love you more than anything else in the world and every minute, every single second I’ve spent with you has been nothing but genuine.”

Your teary eyes glared up at his, guilt still present in the blue orbs. You could also see a hint of honesty, so he was telling the truth, but you were far too hurt to take that into consideration as you shook your head and mumbled, “I don’t believe you,”

Leon was pretty sure his heart had physically broken when you said that. You had abandoned your previous task of taking the ring off, your arms crossing over your chest in a last ditch effort to protect yourself, but he had weakened your trust in him considerably, something he never wanted to do.

Your dad wasn’t helping, either. “He lied to you, honey. I tried to warn you,” he said with the fakest sounding sympathy Leon had ever heard.

It had him turning back around to face the older man. “No. Stop putting lies in her head,” he seethed. “She’s not a child anymore.”

Your dad straightened his posture. “That’s where you’re wrong, Kennedy,” he lifted his hand, revealing the gun he had been hiding since you walked through the front door. “She’s my child, now step away from her.”

Since Leon was blocking your view, you didn’t see what he was holding as you furrowed your brows and moved to stand next to Leon instead of behind him. “Dad, what are you..”

The words die on your tongue when you catch sight of the pistol pointed directly at Leon. “Get away from him, Y/n,”

Leon didn’t move an inch, and it was clear this wasn’t his first time having a gun pointed at him. His bullet wound was enough of an answer to that one. Still, your tears come to a stop as you ask, “Or what, you’ll shoot him?” Your heart deflated a bit when his stance didn’t falter. “You’re going to shoot him, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer you, instead opting to give you another warning. “Get away from him. Now,”

It was then when countless men emerged from various doors, guns raised and pointed at Leon, but none would shoot while you were still in the line of fire. It was clear that this had been a set up. Your father had been waiting for you to come back, and he knew you’d return with Leon, and then he could kill him without so much as a goodbye.

You rapidly shake your head and turn to look at the blond, who refused to break eye contact once your eyes met his own. He didn’t look scared or angry, like you would expect him to. No, he looked defeated, sad, even. “Go, Y/n,” his words were quiet and barely audible.

But you heard him loud and clear. “I can’t,” you say quickly. “Leon, he’s going to kill you. I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” he says and reaches for your hand and holds back a smile when you let him take it in his bigger one. His thumb brushes over the ring before he looks back up at you. “I’d rather die than see you get hurt. I can’t hurt you anymore than I already have, I won’t. Please.”

You shake your head again but are powerless to stop him when he steps away from you, his hand falling from yours as he puts the distance that was needed between you so you wouldn’t be affected by the pulling of the trigger.

Leon, the man who would die for you.

Leon, the man who had betrayed your father, but fell in love with you along the way.

Leon, the love of your life.

“Leon,” you begged quietly, not knowing what else there was left to do. You wouldn’t be able to watch as your dad shot him, you couldn’t. Leon had always been your safe space, your person and the reason you began living for yourself instead of your father. He shaped you into who you are today, a more head-strong, carefree woman instead of the obedient, shy and oblivious girl you were before you met him.

You couldn’t say goodbye to him. You wouldn’t.

And as the safety was clicked off and the trigger was seconds away from being pulled, something happened that helped prevent that goodbye.

The front door swung open and an abundance of unfamiliar men came flooding in, the one in front having dark hair with stubble to match on his matured and defined face. “Clark,” he greeted your dad as if they were old friends, but the way he had his own gun pointed at him told you they most certainly were not. “What the fuck are you doing, man?”

You couldn’t help the way your brows furrowed in confusion and you allowed Leon to grab your wrist as he pulled you back to him.

“Redfield,” was all your dad said through his clenched jaw.

The stranger grinned as he stepped forward and handed the gun to Leon before grabbing another one from its spot on his hip. The group he came in with had an array of guns pointed at your dad and his men, and this was probably the first time you had ever seen your father look nervous.

This Redfield guy glanced over at you, then at your hand, the ring that was still clasped around your finger fueling his next words, “I see your daughter is set to wed soon,” he observed, his stance never faltering as he pointed the gun at your father. “I’d put the gun down if you still want to walk your little girl down the aisle.”

Your mind was a blur as you allowed Leon to pull you towards the stairs, your legs barely keeping up with the rest of you as he brought the hand that wasn’t holding a weapon up to caress the side of your face. “Go up to your room, pack only the things you need,” he says before adding, “I’ll meet you in there as soon as I can.”

Dazed, you nod and take the stairs two at a time, feeling Leon’s eyes on you the whole time before you disappear around the corner and into the hall that led to your room.

Once you are in there, you stand in pure shock and confusion for a second or two before springing into action. You grab a spare bag and half-hazardly throw in some clothing and other essential necessities before giving your room a once over.

Not sure what to do next, you sit on your bed next to the bag and begin to chew on your thumbnail, your nerves eating you alive as you wait for Leon to come meet you.

You couldn’t begin to wrap your head around what just happened. Your dad was literal seconds away from shooting and killing Leon when some guy shows up and puts a pause on the whole event.

Who was that guy? Leon knew him, that much was obvious as they were clearly on the same side here. Was he someone from Leon’s real life across the state? He had to be.

You felt like you were going to have a heart attack and couldn’t be more grateful when the door swung open ten minutes later and Leon came staggering into the room.

You were relieved when he seemed to be untouched, no blood or wound visible on his body as far as you could tell.

He also seemed to huff out a sigh of relief as he tucked the gun away and made the short walk over to you. He stood in front of you and placed his hands on either side of your face, leaning down to press a surprisingly soft kiss to the top of your head.

You grip his forearms and pull him down to sit next to you, your eyes searching his for any answers to the hundreds of questions you have. “What’s going on?”

Leon looked conflicted as he answered you, “It’s a lot to explain right now,” and it was the truth.

“Can you give me the brief, then?” You ask in hopes he would give you something to go off of. “Because I don’t feel comfortable going anywhere right now, let alone to wherever you’re planning on taking me.”

He sighed. “That’s fair,” even if he felt as though you were pulling away from him, and even if that physically pained him to no end, he understood that you needed answers. He could only imagine all the questions swimming around in that pretty head of yours. “What do you want to know?”

There was very little time to be spent right now, but if you needed reassurance, then he’d spend as long as he needed to give that to you. In the end, he knew Chris could handle himself and keep things under control while he tried to get through to you.

It wasn’t surprising that the strange man downstairs was your first question. “For starters; who is that guy down there?”

Leon refused to lie to you, not when you were so vulnerable right now and not when he was trying to gain back a sliver of your trust. If he had a say in it, he would never lie to you for the rest of his life. “My partner,” he answered slowly, not wanting to confuse you any more than you already are. “His name is Chris Redfield.”

You narrow your eyes at that and turn your head away from him, breaking the eye contact that he was relying on to get him through this. “I thought Harvey was your partner? Or…. whatever you two were,”

“He is, or he was,” this wasn’t going as well as he had hoped, seeing as you looked even more confused than before. “Harvey is the only person on your dad’s side that I trust. He’s the only one who knew what my true intentions were, and he kept them hidden because he’s planning his own life, one away from all of this. He trusted me, as well, and understood why I was doing what I did.”

You glance up at him and hesitantly ask, “And what exactly was it that you did?”

He was glad you didn’t accuse him of using you. It made him feel the smallest bit of relief that you didn’t believe the story your dad had thrown out. “I took this job to work for your dad for the sole purpose of gathering inside information on him and his business. I admit that I was fully intending on getting what I came for and leaving after, but then I met you,” he began the long story he dreaded telling you. “You opened the door and let me in without any hesitation at all, and I knew then that you had no idea how dangerous that could’ve been for you had I been someone else. You trusted me, and I wanted to keep you safe from this secret life that you were oblivious to revolving around your dad.”

You held back a small smile at that and pushed further, needing to know more. “What information were you trying to get? Why was it so important?”

“Chris had been building this case up on your dad for a while now, and needed a bit more to put an end to everything he was doing. It was too risky for him to do it himself, so I offered to be his inside man, and that’s why I had to get so close to your dad and follow his orders, so he wouldn’t question my loyalty,”

One of your brows raised at that. “How’d that work out for you?”

He laughed at that and the sound had you smiling. “About as well as you’d expect it to,” he shook his head and became serious again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I did use your dad and I did betray his trust, but I never once used you, like he said I did. I would never do that, I’d never hurt you.”

You weren’t used to hearing him so vulnerable and open. He had always been so tense when it came to talking about serious things like your dad being involved in the Mafia and him being associated with your dad. The whole thing freaked you out, and Leon knew this, so he never stayed on this topic for longer than he needed to.

Reaching over, you place your hand on his.

“I meant it when I said I’ve loved you since the minute we met. My feelings for you have never been anything but genuine,” he murmurs, turning his hand over so he could properly lace your fingers together. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I want to have a future with you. That’s why I gave you this.”

He lifted your hand so the ring was on full display. “I’m sorry I tried to take it off,” you say quietly, guilt seeping into your words. “I probably wouldn’t have been able to go through with it, anyway, but it still doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, I get it,” he waved you off, this thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. “You were just told a lot of surprising news and I don’t blame you for not being able to cope with it right away.”

“Still,” you trail off, debating on what to do next. You still weren’t entirely sure what Leon’s true intentions were when he first started working for your dad, but you fully believed that his love for you was genuine and not a game, like your father had suggested. You shift closer to him and bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders, needing that feeling of comfort you always got whenever you touched him. “I still want to be with you, nothing’s changed between us. I’m still so in love with you.”

Leon smiled at that, his hands settling on your hips. The relief that flooded through him at your words had his heart racing, but there was still one thing he needed to tell you, and it was possibly the biggest secret he regretfully kept from you. “I love you, more than anything,” he nearly whispered. “Which is why there is something else I need to tell you. I promise you that, after this, there will be no more secrets.”

You nod at him, silently urging him to continue.

His next words were ones he had to force out. “It’s about your mom,”

That had you pulling back slightly, your brows furrowing. Your mom? What did Leon know about your mom? She had died so many years ago, so he never got the chance to meet her. You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to her. “What do you mean?”

With a heavy sigh, Leon began the even longer story about how your mom passed, and how your dad was involved. “She died in a car accident, right? That’s what your dad told you?”

“Yeah?” You dragged the word out, confused as to where this was going.

“It’s not true,” there it was, the one thing that had him feeling so unbelievably guilty for months now. Your eyes widened at the revelation, but you didn’t ask anything and let him continue. “That’s what your dad wanted you to think, because he is the reason for what actually happened to her. She knew about his involvement with the Mob, but she loved him enough to keep quiet about it. Your dad was receiving threats, but instead of taking them seriously, he ignored them. Then your mom began receiving threats, as well. Your dad told her not to worry about it, and that was just how it is when you’re married to someone in the Mafia.”

You had a horrifying feeling about where this was going.

“They went out one night for a date, and it was then when one of his enemies came out of an alleyway and shot her,” the silence that followed was deafening. Your ears were ringing and your skin heated up, an overwhelming feeling of guilt, sadness and betrayal taking over your body. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, but you could tell from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t lying, not that he’d ever lie to you about your mom. It was too sore of a subject for you, and he knew that better than anyone.

“I-” you were quite literally speechless.

“Your dad ran off and when he came back, she was already gone. He forged the death certificate and had it ruled off as a car accident to cover his tracks and to protect his identity,” Leon just had to get the rest of it out before he lost you completely. “I’m sorry you never knew any of this, but I needed to tell you that being with me is dangerous. And even though I would never put you in a situation in which that would even come close to happening, you need to know that this life isn’t safe for anyone involved in it.”

You had no idea what to say or even what to think about that. You knew that this kind of lifestyle was dangerous and there was an unbelievably high risk in getting involved in it, but that didn’t stop you from pursuing this relationship with Leon in the first place.

Your safety wasn’t your biggest concern right now, it was the other bomb he dropped.

Your mother died in a car accident, but apparently not?

How could your father have kept that from you for all these years? When did he tell Leon all of that? Why hadn’t you questioned the sneakiness of the whole thing? You supposed you could blame your heartbreak on that last one. When she passed you were so full of regret and sadness, you couldn’t focus on the exact details of her death.

You couldn’t focus on how the full, clearly made up story, now that you thought of it, never really made a whole lot of sense. Date nights were rare for your parents, and the one time they do make an appearance outside the confinements of the house she gets into a car accident?

And your dad was somehow completely unharmed while your mom lost her life? It made absolutely no sense.

You open your mouth to respond but close it again as you try to process this information.

Leon hated being the one to deliver this awful news to you. He hated the fact that he was the voice behind the reason you felt so devastated. The thing he hated the most was that if he had never met you, then he would have never told you anything about his job or your dad’s job or your mom, and you would have never found out the truth. You would have never felt so betrayed.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, raising one hand to tuck the fallen strands of hair behind your ear. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you. I understand if you need some time to think things through. You deserve better than this and I hope you know that. You deserve better than me and to not be involved in any of this. I’m so sorry that I’m the reason behind so much of your pain.”

You furrow your brows and look into his eyes, your head shaking a bit. “No,” you barely get out before inching closer to him. “There’s nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I mean, I said ‘yes’, right? I’d do anything to be able to go back to last night, when you asked me to marry you. Leon, you make me so happy, I can’t imagine being with anyone else. Yeah, it sucks that you knew about my mom’s death, but I know why you didn’t tell me about it. You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t want to see me get hurt, and this is probably the worst news I’ve ever heard in my entire life, and yet I feel grateful that it was you who told me it. I trust you more than anyone, and I want to be with you. I’d risk it for you. Everything.”

You hoped he could see how genuine you were being, how honest you were and how much you needed him right now and in the future.

After this confession, you couldn’t imagine continuing to live with your dad, not that you even wanted to. Your trust for him was shattered and broken beyond repair. Leon was by far the only person you wanted to be around right now, and probably will be for quite some time while you process the truth behind your mom’s death.

You would eventually get past this, you knew that, and when you did you knew Leon would be there to help you pick up the pieces and provide a much healthier life for you once you got the hell out of this place.

“Are you sure you want this? It’s not going to be easy and it’s more risky than you could possibly know,” he wanted to make sure that you knew what you were getting into by leaving with him. He would never let anything happen to you, and he would die before he allowed anyone to lay a finger on you. He was not your father, and he would make damn sure that your fate wasn’t at all like your mothers.

“It’s not supposed to be, right?” You give him a weak smile. Things were far from being okay at the moment, but you knew you would be able to move past this all with time. Knowing that Leon would be there helped more than anything else. “As long as you don’t keep anything else from me and tell me when something is going on.”

He would do anything you wanted him to and he hoped you knew that. “I promise,” he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Leon was going to say more but didn’t get the chance to when your bedroom door swung open and Harvey came barreling in. “Hey,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but things are getting a bit crazy down there. It’s probably best to leave now before everything goes to shit.”

He tosses Leon a set of keys, the blond catching them easily.

“Well, more than it has already,” his attempt at making light in a dark situation had you smiling softly. Harvey pointed to the keys as he said, “They’re for the car down by the clearing. I figured it was too risky for you to take your own car so I brought one that will be harder to trace once you get out of here. Feel free to ditch it once you’re settled down and in someplace safe.”

Leon stands up from your bed, reaching down to sling your bag over his shoulder. “Thank you, Harvey,” he says. “You can still come with us, you know. You’re family.”

“Thank you for the offer,” he grins. “But I have some unfinished business I need to take care of before I leave this town, as well. I’ll keep in contact. Maybe you guys can even invite me to the wedding whenever you decide to tie the knot.”

Leon nodded and asked, “Hey, did you get in contact with Chris? Is that what happened down there?”

You furrowed your brows at that, assuming that Leon had called Chris himself and had this whole thing planned out.

Harvey shrugged, a boyish grin on his lips. “I figured you could use some help when you told me about your plans to leave. Chris was a hard one to track down, but he was more than willing to come down and get you two out of here once I got his number,”

Leon hadn’t planned out the interruption of his own death. He was content with dying if it meant you could live and be free from your dad. He had no idea that Chris was on the way with backup, and he had no idea that Harvey had single-handedly prevented his inevitable demise.

You watch as the two share a look before standing up as well and wrapping your arms around the brunet. “Thank you,”

Harvey returned the hug before letting you go with one of his signature smiles. “Don’t mention it,” he steps away from the two of you as Leon comes up to stand beside you. “It was a pleasure to know you. The both of you.”

With a final smile, he turns around and exits the room to go act as if he was still on your dad’s side, when in reality he was planning on leaving by the end of the week and starting over somewhere else.

Once Harvey was back downstairs, Leon turned to you and gently grabbed your hand. “Are you ready?” He asks and you give one final look around your room, the same one that had felt more like a prison these last few months.

You nod and that was all Leon needed before he was leading you out of the room and down the back staircase. It was rarely used, so it came as no surprise to find it completely empty. He led you out the backdoor and around the side of the house, and you were glad he took this route to avoid the chaos that was happening in the front hall.

Once you were in the front yard, Leon clicked a button on the keys and gently pushed you in the direction of the car that lit up. After making sure you were safe in the passenger seat, he tosses your bag into the back before glancing back at your old house.

He makes eye contact with your dad, who was standing at the front door and looking more defeated than he had ever seen him.

Leon gave him a look that said;

I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. She’s safe with me.

Oh, and fuck you, you fucking prick.

He turns back around and gets in the driver’s seat, noticing the familiar chain on the set of keys that Harvey gave him. He untangled the chain and realized exactly what it was.

“Hey,” he says quietly and this gets your attention. You lift your head from where you had been staring at the glove box, stuck in your own head and letting your thoughts take over for a minute. When you look over at him your heart skips a beat at the necklace he held out to you, the same one Leon gave you to all those months ago, the same one your dad was holding an hour or so ago.

Leon wasn’t sure how Harvey was able to get that back from your dad, but he was grateful for it nonetheless as he knew how much you loved that necklace and the memory of the night he gave it to you.

You take the necklace from him and hold it in your hands, your tired and teary eyes boring into his. He reaches over and strokes his thumb across your cheek before throwing the car in reverse and driving away from the house you no longer called home, only stopping once at his trailer to collect a few of his own things before he was back on the road and driving as far away as he could.

Six Months Later.

The air felt different here, clearer, better.

You never thought you’d ever turn into one of those girls who loved the feeling of sand between her toes and the cool breeze that came with sitting near the beach.

The balcony doors were wide open and allowed a fair amount of fresh air to enter the hotel room. You were sitting against one of the soft armchairs, your hair flowing slightly in the breeze as you stared out at the waves crashing against the shore.

It was peaceful here. You could see yourself being happy here.

The sound of the door opening and closing behind you tears your attention away from the water and you look across the room. Your gaze softens as you watch Leon enter the room, a single rose in his hand. “Hi, pretty girl,” he murmurs and leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hi,” you say back, taking the flower when he held it out to you. “Thank you.”

Leon crouches down in front of you, draping his arms over his knees as he looks up at you. “How are you feeling today?”

You give him a small smile. “Good,” you extend your hand out to him, your smile growing when he laces your fingers together. “Really good.”

He smiles back, bringing your joined hands up to press a kiss to the back of yours. “I’m glad,” he stands up and pulls you with him towards the balcony, his arms circling around your waist as the two of you stare at the many couples and families who were at the beach. Leon leans down to kiss your shoulder before resting his chin on top of it. “Are you happy here?”

You place your hand on top of his arm, the rose still clasped in your other one. “I’m happy wherever you are,” you say back and feel him smile against the skin of your neck. “But, yes. I think I could be happy here.”

“You think?” He hums and tightens his arms around you just slightly, never getting tired of feeling your body pressed against his. He loves how well you fit in his arms and he would gladly admit that to anyone who asked.

“Yeah,” you trail off, turning your head to be able to look at him. “I heard you talking to Chris the other day, about how he has a place for us to move into soon that’s near where he lives. Maybe I’m wrong, but he doesn’t seem like the type to live in a beach house.”

Leon laughs at that, shaking his head afterwards. “It’s not set in stone,” he assures you. “It’s just an option. Chris has been trying to help out as much as he can since he feels guilty, I think, about everything that happened.”

You look away and back towards the water. “Well, he shouldn’t,” you murmur, leaning back in Leon’s hold. “He helped me get me away from a dark place and I hope he knows how grateful I am for that.”

“He does,” Leon mumbles, his fingers tracing random shapes against the skin of your hips.

“He also saved your life, and by default he saved mine, too,” tilting your head to the side, you sigh when you feel his lips run along the necklace you wore, the heart shaped charm resting against your chest.

“He holds that above me every chance he gets,” he muttered, grinning at the small laugh that escapes you. “But if you’re happy here, then so am I. I don’t care where we are, just as long as we’re together.”

You playfully roll your eyes. “Cheesy,”

He laughs and pulls away from you when he hears the sound of someone knocking on the door. You step back into the room and watch as he opens the door and steps aside when the visitor enters the room.

Your eyes widen and you place the rose down on the couch before running over and throwing yourself at the man.

“Woah,” Harvey laughed, wrapping his arms around you as he stumbled back slightly when he caught you. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

Leon shakes his head as he closes the door, crossing his arms across his chest as he looks at the two people he cared about most in the world. “Took you long enough,”

Harvey pulled away and gave his friend a shrug. “My unfinished business took longer than I thought it would,” he grinned and pulled the blond into a hug. “This place is nice.”

He pulled away and looked around the room, his eyes landing on the large couch. Harvey walked over and threw himself down onto it, reaching for the rose and bringing it up to inhale the fresh scent.

“How long are you staying here for?” He asked. “And are there any rooms available for yours truly?”

Leon lit up at that, happy that Harvey was finally free from your dad and was able to start over so he can be happy for the first time in a long time.

You walk over to him and snuggle into his side, placing your hand on his chest and loving the way the sun reflected off the ring on your finger.

Leon wrapped his arm around you and looked over at his friend, his mind made up when he realized just how much he liked the image of having both you and his close friend around for the rest of his life. “I think we’ll be here for a while,”

The End ♡ I hope you all enjoyed this mini series :')

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girlswhowantboystobegirls · 6 days

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what would some pjo characters listen to?

thalia, luke, annabeth, percy, grover, clarisse, stoll bros edition

Thalia's music taste is canon; she listens to Green Day. I'd like to think she is fond of many rock bands like Radiohead, Nirvana, Rage Against The Machine... her playlist is a rock/punk soup. She may even go and listen to The Cure, Slipknot and all those bands with a certain aesthetic that is linked to an alternative style/community.

One thing about Thalia, though, is that she won't stand music that isn't alt. Lana del Rey, Billie Eilish, Dua Lipa, Taylor Swift are just examples of what she really can't get into. She despises entering a shop in a mall and hearing the "daaaaaance, dance the night away!" no. Please no. If you think Thalia listens to Taylor Swift in secret, I disagree.

I made a post about Luke's music taste before. I like the headcanon that in the Hermes cabin everyone listens to any song, any language, any genre (their shared playlist has over 3k songs, and most of them don't even correlate; special thanks to the Stolls). Luke likes punk and rock too, but maybe not overwhelmingly noisy... The Clash is probably a band he really likes, he also likes more current rock from bands like Los Campesinos... that's a little calmer than Thalia. He already has too much noise around him anyway.

Related to noise, Luke likes good, funky beats (Ivan Meets G.I Joe by The Clash starts playing). It is possible he listens to glitchore and/or scene songs!

Luke would listen to TV Girl.

Annabeth had most of her music taste influenced by Luke and Thalia, she was 7 when she came to camp afterall. Probably her own dad wasn't a parent that would show music to their child all the time. So, yes, Thalia and Luke music taste, mostly.

A thing's for sure, she doesn't understand Luke's liking towards glitchcore songs. Annabeth thinks they are... messy, like they were made immediatly and the lyrics aren't even audible. As an Athena kid who likes music, she often analyzes songs.

I can imagine Annabeth liking The Pixies, Iggy Pop, Ramones, and (she says that it's just sometimes, but their whole playlist is plagued by...) Blondie. Add The Runaways and Joan Jett too, this girl is a bisexual.

I'd like to think Percy isn't really judgemental about music. Does he find a reasoning in the lyrics? Nah. Who cares. Does he think the music is sad or happy? Depends on how fast it is, lyrics are to be listened; not read.

Sally is a really cool mom, and she probably introduced him to many things (I headcanon watching Drag race is one of them). A hint of jazz, some old-school rock punk, The Smiths, The Beatles, David Bowie, Abba... ultimate playlist. Percy probably still listens to many of these artists' songs.

But Percy's personal taste? Hip-hop. The hip-hop you could hear in a skatepark, or just 90s, it's almost the same thing. Eminem, Skee-lo, Ice Cube... he probably downloads playlist full of 90s songs.

Grover likes calming songs. Laufey is probably his favorite artist. Dominic Fike, Mac DeMarco's songs are also in his playlists. He doesn't mind catching up to some popular artists like these, but it's true that he only listens to music when he has nothing to do, not even go and search for Percy.

He can step out of his musical comfort-zone, but he can't listen to heavy metal. Thalia's playlist really scares him, can't even have it saved in his library. Grover needs relaxing music. Gods, he would listen to white noise, rain sounds or whatever's chill.

Clarisse thinks listening to music is a waste of time. She's not really a playlist grinder. But it is true some of her half-siblings tried to introduce stuff to her, it being: Måneskin, Hole, Marina (that one is a very guilty liking of her).

Clarisse doesn't think of listening to music when being alone and with no tasks, she just goes and does something. The fact that you can multitask, do something productive and listen to music at the same time, does not really enter into her perception of productivity.

Expect her to be judgemental of songs people who aren't her siblings show to her.

The Stoll brothers are constantly, forever in a music fight. Both of them have a very wide taste... but between both of them there are big differences.

Travis would listen to Taylor Swift, Mars Argo, Good kid, The Cardigans, Tyler The Creator. Pop, pretty much summarized, and some of its subtypes too.

Connor would be the reason of why the Hermes cabin listens to tons of songs in different languages (hc mentioned in Luke section). Brazilian phonk? Of course. Russian indie bands?? Yes! Argentinian rock??? Yasss. Everything goes into his playlist. Connor probably trusts Spotify's Discover Weekly BLINDLY.

This dramatic difference between their tastes made them not talk about music, because it would probably end up with both of them trying to prove the other wrong. They are very good siblings! It's just that... well... Connor thinks Travis' taste is shit. And Travis thinks Connor's make no sense at all (he can't even understand what they are saying!) But well, they can't look almost the same and have a similar music taste; that would be too much. Siblings can have many things in common, and things that make you want to make the other to cancel their Spotify subscription. It works like that.

I took 1 hour to write this.

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quixoticall · 3 months

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This Could Get Ugly Track 4: The End of the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, the reader faces the consequences of her actions and faces some hate from Robin, era-normalizes homophobia, no use of YN, wet dreams and reader being horny on main, allusions to a bi!reader, kinda voyerism?

A/N: First of all, I wanted to express all my gratitude for the love everyone has shown me and my work! It feels so wonderful to know that others are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it. This chapter was so challenging but also really rewarding. Initially, this was going to be much longer and it would cover the entire rest of the tour, but I didn’t want the pacing to feel rushed so I split this into two parts so we can also delve a little deeper into the rest of the tour dates. Also, I love circa Season 3 Robin who calls people out on their shit.

wc: 5.9K

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April 11th, 1984 Cincinnati Ohio

“Hey! Hey!” You hear calls of your name from deep in the corners of the chaos that is backstage before a show. You’re too busy fighting to secure the buckle on your stupidly impractical heels to look up and instead, you listen as the voice calling your name gets closer and closer until it takes the form of the heavy pair of lace-up boots that appear in front of you. Your gaze follows the trail up the boots to the attached legs, torso, chest, and finally to the head of wild curls belonging to one Eddie Munson. “Yes?” You say primly as if this is your first time hearing him. He rolls his eyes in response, but the gesture is more teasing than anything.

“I was thinking that maybe we don’t even do a bridge in ‘Runaway with Me’. What if, instead we do one final chorus with a larger buildup?” You halt mid-shoe-struggle to glance up at him and consider his idea. “That could work,” you say, straightening out to eye level, giving yourself a break from your crouched position.

“We could build a crescendo, maybe bring in some horns like Robin’s always talking about,” you offer.

He nods excitedly, “Yeah, some horns would be sweet! We could also do some heavier synth.”

As he’s talking, he kneels and gently begins to secure the strap of your shoes for you. This gesture and others like them have recently begun to spring from the guitarist. The two of you have naturally been spending more and more time together writing and through this time spent together you’ve come to realize that Eddie is kind below all that bravado and snark. It’s a kindness you recognize, one that’s been bubbling below the surface waiting for someone to lure it out by working past his walls. As it would turn out, spending a few nights a week writing did the trick and after nearly a month, the two of you were approaching friendship.

“Thanks,” you smile, once he’s secured both shoes, “I was struggling there.”

He gives you one of those full-body shrugs you’ve come to associate with him lately and says, “It’s nothin’. Didn’t want you wrinkling your pretty dress.”

You brush off his flirtatious words as just an attempt to get under your skin. He’s still Eddie, after all.

“Maybe we should finish the song tonight, then,” you suggest, fingers smoothing out your skirt instinctively.

“And miss the afterparty? No chance. Argyle says that the club we’re going to downtown has go-go dancers.”

“Oh, right, the afterparty. I forgot,” you exclaim, unconvincingly.

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie deadpans, “you just don’t want to go.”

The other thing you’ve learned about Eddie these past few weeks is that he’s weirdly perceptive.

“I hate those parties,” you whine as the two of you amble towards the front of the stage, “I’m stuck having people gawking at me while the rest of you are off having fun.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix, why don’t you ditch the gawkers tonight and you and I can get up to some shenanigans?”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge with a raise of your eyebrow, “I don’t see how watching groupies throw themselves at you is any different than watching them throw themselves at Steve.”

“Where are these groupies that you speak of, because I promise you no one is throwing themselves at me,” he guffaws at the mere thought.

You roll your eyes, “I see you taking a different girl home every night and I wouldn’t want to mess with your batting average. Besides, people will see me with you instead of Steve and they’ll start talking.” “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but my batting average is rookie-level, at best,” he fiddles with the strap on his guitar excessively before swinging it over his shoulders, “and as far as rumors go, not likely. No one in their right mind would think anyone, much less you would choose me over Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

You roll your eyes at his self-deprecation. “That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself, Eddie. Also, you know Steve hates when you call him that.”

He smirks in response, “That’s exactly why I do it, princess. So, what do you say? If you come to the afterparty and we have a good time, we skip the next writing session and if you find it absolutely abhorrent, we’ll… skip the afterparty in St. Louis and buckle down to write. Deal?” *** You end up taking Eddie’s deal if anything, because you don’t want to alienate the closest thing you have to a friend right now.

Ever since Jonathan found out about his brother’s successful operation, he’s been making up for lost time, partying and drinking with Argyle every single night. Nancy’s been preoccupied with trailing behind them and making sure they don’t end up waking up in a hotel lobby fountain like they did back in D.C..

Steve, on the other hand, has withdrawn from you since Atlanta, and while he acts the part of doting boyfriend in front of the crowds and pleasant friend in front of the rest of the band, the connecting door between your hotel rooms has remained resoundingly locked. Naturally, Robin had been avoiding you too.

This is how you ended up sitting next to Eddie Munson at a seedy club somewhere in downtown Cincinnati watching girls dance in cages and listening to him argue with the bartender about which regional hot dog was the best.

From across the room, Nancy catches your eye and flashes a sheepish smile before Jonathan drags her to another corner of the room, drink in hand. Occupying a separate corner, you spot Steve and Argyle in a cloud of women and smoke downing what appears to be their thousandth shot as onlookers cheer on.

You wish it was that easy for you.

“What do you wish was that easy?” Eddie turns suddenly, angling his entire body your way.

You swallow down the embarrassment of having accidentally voiced your thoughts, if only because Eddie’s smirking at you like he knows you’ve been caught.

“You know, walking into a room and not having to worry about doing the wrong thing and immediately making everyone hate you. I wish that was easier.”

He laughs at this, a banging-on-the-table type of ordeal, and you withdraw into yourself at the flash of the callousness you had previously associated with him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he waves, “It’s just that, you could probably spit in everyone’s face when you walk into a room while insulting their mothers and they would still love you. How could anyone not? You’ve got that thing.”

“That thing?”

“Yeah, like,” he gesticulates his arms wildly as if he could catch the words he was looking for between his fingers, “magnetism? But also endearing which is extra annoying. It shines off you, almost? Like…if the rest of the world is silver, you’re this big chunk of gold.”

He ducks his head suddenly, embarrassed and his words mean so much you nearly do the same.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say instead, and because it is Eddie, you have to add, “although, no one’s ever called me a ‘big chunk’ of anything.”

“Yeah well, someone’s got to keep you humble, right?”

You roll your eyes but even that doesn’t wipe away your smile, in fact, it only grows.

***

ROBIN: Of course, I remember that night! I spent the entire time comforting my best friend while he watched those two make eyes at each other.

It always blew my mind what she could get away with that the rest of us couldn’t. It had only been a month since she rejected Steve on the basis of wanting to keep things professional and here, she was, practically attached at the hip to Eddie—the one guy who hurt Steve the most to see her with—like it’s nothing and the rest of us have to pay the consequence! How was that fair?

***

” So, what do you say? St. Louis after party?” Eddie quips an eyebrow as the two of you stumble down the hallway of your Ohio hotel room, many hours and drinks later.

“I don’t think so, Munson,” you say, far too resolutely for someone who is clinging to the wall.

“What? I thought you had fun! That was fun! Didn’t you have fun?”

His large brown eyes turn a bit desperate at his question. Truthfully, the night was good—not necessarily the exciting endless nights of your teenage years on the Strip—but Eddie did put effort into making it an enjoyable night for you. He kept the drinks flowing and brought you the best of Argyle’s stash of magic pills. He even got into one of the Go-Go cages after losing a drinking game and gave a truthfully hilarious performance. He was so focused on getting off the hook for writing in St. Louis that he ignored every groupie that tried to approach.

Still, you could not shake the hollowness in your heart or the weight of everyone’s attention.

Stopping at your hotel room door (at least you think it is, you’re not quite sure) you turn to put a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you, for working so hard to give me a good night, I appreciate it, but we’re writing in St. Louis. We have to, we’re already behind.”

Placated by this, Eddie nods, smiling, before reaching up to grasp your wrist lightly, the one that’s resting on his shoulder.

“Well, as long as you had some fun—”

The ding of the elevator drowns out the rest of what he was going to say and the two of you jump apart in time to catch a glimpse of a very pissed-off Robin propping up a very out-of-it Steve. Eddie rushes forward, reaching for Steve’s other side, but before he can help her, Robin says, icily and resolutely, “Don’t. You’ve done enough,” causing Eddie to flinch back.

This uncharacteristic snap from Robin has left the two of you stunned, standing in place and far too drunk to know what to do so you both watch, unmoving as Robin struggles comically to get Steve down the hallway to the door next to yours.

Steve, for his part, is glassy-eyed and completely unhelpful to Robin, in fact, you’re certain he’s leaning his entire weight on her. When he makes eye contact, you smile, awkwardly and he turns completely away from your gesture.

“Shit, Steve, where’s your key?” Robin asks, patting away at his pocket in a way only intimate friends could do.

Steve shrugs dismissively in response, “Lost it,” he slurred.

His voice spurs you into action, “Here,” you gesture to Robin, “I can let you in through the inside door.”

The brass player grimaces in response, and you can see her mouth get ready to tell you to fuck off but Steve’s weight on her slight frame gets the best of her, and huffs in forced acceptance, “Fine, whatever.”

You hold the door as the two of them stumble in, a gangly, uncoordinated four-legged monster.

Eddie lingers on the other side of the doorway, Robin’s glare enough to stave him off.

The two of you share a smile, and it looks like he wants to say something but a crash in your room demands your attention.

“Thanks for the night out, Eddie,” you say partially because you must and partially because you don’t recognize the look in his eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You puncture your question with a slight tilt of your head, gesturing towards the cacophony inside.

He nods, understandingly, gulping down his words, and instead offers, “Yeah, sounds good, see you tomorrow.”

You shut the door, ready to accept whatever destruction Steve has inflicted in retaliation, you’re certain, for his broken heart. You deserved it, after all. Any other guy (and in fact, every other guy you had been with before) would’ve probably told you off angrily by now, and, as nice as Steve seemed, it was only a matter of time before he did too.

To your surprise, he is at your vanity, fumbling about with your various pots and compacts and bottles of perfume.

Robin is trying to pull him away, albeit feebly.

“Stop it, Rob,” Steve whines, slapping her grasp away, “I miss the smell.”

***

ROBIN: Pathetic. It was pathetic.

***

STEVE: No, sorry, I don’t remember that happening.

***

Robin realizes now that she is in no place to deny your offer of help so between the two of you you manage to get Steve undressed and put to bed. The already Herculean task is made even more difficult by Robin’s refusal to acknowledge you in any capacity, but it gets done.

“You know, I don’t mean to hurt him,” you mutter, pulling the duvet over Steve’s shoulders.

“Right,” Robin responds, not even looking up, “guess it’s just another one of those things you’re just naturally good at, huh?”

You sigh, frustrated. Maybe it’s the alcohol still circling through your veins, maybe it’s the need to appeal to Robin, whom you had previously had a trouble-free relationship with, but you start to talk.

“Listen, it’s not that I wouldn’t want to be with Steve…it’s that I don’t know how.”

She turns wide-eyed to you now, “You don’t know how to have sex? They have books for that, you know.”

“No, no it’s not that,” you say, and then quieter, after making sure Steve was still passed out in his nest of pillows, “I’ve had sex before. Plenty of sex, with other people—”

“Sure, that sounds super convincing.”

“I’ve just never been in a relationship before. I don’t know how and I’m not sure if I’d be very good at it.” You divert your gaze now from Robin, blushing at your revelation.

“What do you mean? What about Jason Carver? You dated for like six months.”

You fiddle with the blanket bunched at the corner of the bed.

“No, we didn’t. Those were just lies spread by Starcourt to sell more records. I didn’t date any of those assholes. It was all set up.”

Robin lowers down to sit on the edge of the bed opposite you, by Steve’s feet.

“So, what? Everyone needs a first. Is Steve not worth trying for?”

“Of course, he is, Robin! But other people are relying on us not fucking this up and I already know that I will.”

“So, that’s it then? You’re too scared to try just because it doesn’t come easy?”

You pluck angrily at a loose thread and mutter, “You just don’t get it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t. I have to spend my entire life hiding who I love from the world and here you are, getting the opportunity to love someone—and not just anyone but, like, one of the best guys in the world—and have that love be celebrated by other people and instead of choosing to at least try to make it real, you’re sticking to what’s fake because that’s all you know.”

Words block your throat, and your eyes sting with unshed tears.

“I’m gonna go now,” you exhale, shakily before dashing out of the door into your own room. You wait before your certain Robin has left before letting your tears flow.

***

ROBIN: What I said was totally harsh, but I don’t regret it. She needed to hear it.

***

April 13th, 1984, St. Louis Missouri

“So, what’s going on with you and Harrington?”

Eddie wastes no time in asking as he is ushered into your current hotel room.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying your hardest to sound convincingly confused.

With his guitar case, he gestures towards the door that connects your room to Steve’s, “Every time I come over now, that door is closed.”

You shrug in response, “Dunno. He probably got bored of me.”

Eddie scoffs, unconvinced as he begins to settle on your small couch for a night of writing, “I doubt that Harrington could ever be tired of you.”

You know what he wants to hear—what’ll get him off your back.

“Well… maybe I got bored of him.”

***

STEVE: What do I remember about St. Louis? Well, for one, the hotel walls were really thin.

***

Eddie didn’t ask you about Steve after that, instead, he diverted his attention entirely to showing you all that he had written between Cincinnati and St. Louis. It was a lot. Way more than what you were used to from him. Something had changed recently with him, a crazy wave of creativity that had kicked his songwriting into overdrive. The interesting thing about it was the consistent romantic undertone in most of his songs. It made you curious about what one-night stand could’ve possibly bewitched him to the point where he was writing verses upon verses about her. You try not to think about Eddie’s possible muse too much and try to focus on being grateful for her instead.

The two of you sit on your too-small couch, bodies flush against one another at nearly every point. You lean closer to the guitarist and cheekily pluck the pen out of his hand and scribble some lyrics in his notebook.

“How am I supposed to decipher any of that chicken scratch?” he teases.

Your head snaps up from the page, with the full intention to tell him off but you’re awestruck by your proximity. You’re close enough to see the scar next to his right eye and the flecks of gold in his quickly widening pupils. That partnered with his musky scent of fir trees and tobacco leaves you gaping at him like a fish. Eddie Munson is pretty, you notice. Very much so. Sure, you weren’t so blinded by his arrogance and unpleasantness to not realize he was attractive, but before you had always seen him as hot. He was a guitar player, after all. But now, up close, knowing him, you see the softness of his face and the warmth of his eyes and it’s all quite disarming.

Realizing you had been staring for way more than could be considered appropriate, you snap backward into the farthest corner of the tiny couch putting a sliver of space between the two of you.

“My handwriting is perfectly fine,” you argue, weakly.

And just like that, the moment slips through your fingers and it’s just you and Eddie again, writing songs and teasing each other like nothing happened.

Three hours later, you are finally happy enough with the progress that was made to release Eddie back into the wild. You escort him to the door and the two of you linger in the threshold. His fingers drum against his guitar case, restlessly and he seems like he’s going to say something.

After an unusually awkward moment of silence between the two of you, you decide to move things along.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsals?” you offer, rolling your ankle against the stiff, carpet floor.

In response, Eddie gulps and nods sharply, but doesn’t quite turn to walk away.

Instead, he pulls lightly at one of his curls, like you see him sometimes do while he’s deep in thought, and says something that takes you completely by surprise, “I like writing with you, you know?”

He starts walking backwards, now, eyes still on you but retreating quickly down the hall.

“I like writing with you too,” you respond, softly, too softly, but by the ear-splitting grin on Eddie’s face, you’re certain he heard.

***

You’re not sure how it started. Maybe it was because your nerves at being around Steve for the first time properly since Cinci had made you extra fidgety or maybe it was the feeling of Eddie’s heavy stare tracing the thin straps of your top that had sent a bolt of energy through you, (or maybe it was the hit you’d taken from Argyle’s stash) but you had too much energy to burn at rehearsal. You started dancing a little more than usual on stage—nothing complicated, just a little two-step here and there, maybe a twirl but, by the third song, you had noticed that Steve was beginning to mimic your movements so that the two of you moved together on stage. After that, you played around with it, a little more, not taking it too seriously, but treating it like a game of Simon Says while also trying to guess each other’s next move.

When the song ends, the two of you are a bit more out of breath than normal, but you’re smiling just the same.

“Woah, did you two plan that?” Argyle asks, in awe.

“No,” he chuckles out, “just messing around, I guess.”

“Well, whatever you were doing you should try it on stage tomorrow night, it was cute,” Nancy says decidedly from behind her keyboard.

Sheepish looks are exchanged between you and Steve, and you shrug at him.

“Sure, why not?”

***

ROBIN: There was a lot about the band that was fake, but none of that ever bled into how we were on stage. Even when things were the most difficult between us—I’m talking about when some of us couldn’t even look at each other—all that went away when we were on stage. Especially with our two lead singers. During that first tour, when Steve had confessed his feelings and she left him totally heartbroken, that didn’t affect their chemistry at all.

I remember that day in St. Louis, during rehearsal, they were messing around together, doing this silly little dance during All About You and it turns into this whole choreographed bit. We didn’t have a fancy set production or even a coordinator back then, so all the little dances they did, that was all them.

People went crazy for them, and it became a thing that people were expecting us to do.

EDDIE: Listen, I think we can both admit I was never the frontman type like Harrington—I’m too hard to swallow and my singing voice ain’t all that, plus all that attention would make me go nuts—but seeing the two of them, up there, dancing, and smiling and singing to each other like there was no one else in the room? Can’t say that was easy for me, no.

STEVE: You know, part of me started to hate performing? Well, maybe not hate, but it was difficult. The crowd would go crazy when we interacted, and the more we danced with each other, the more we shared a mic or got really close, the more the crowd cheered. So, we did those things a lot throughout the shows. And sometimes, when she would reach out and touch my face or look at me with those eyes, well, it felt real almost like we were the only two people in the room and we weren’t pretending, we were just being. And then we would get off stage and go back to being strangers.

It’s the almost having something that always hurts the most.

***

“Hey, where are you going?”

The show is over, and the crowds are long gone, and the venue is deserted. It’s late but, for most of the band, the night is just beginning. While the rest were getting ready for another night out, you were gearing up for a long night of songwriting with Eddie and were just about ready to find him and head to the hotel when he breezes by, arm wrapped around some unknown girl, without as much as a glance in your direction.

Your question catches his attention, and he stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around.

“Eddie,” you continue, “I thought we agreed we were going to write tonight.”

“Sorry, change of plans,” he tosses over his shoulder and then continues on without further explanation.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘change of plans’? We made a deal,” you charge behind him.

“Yeah, well, that was before Arabella told me about this bar downtown that—”

You don’t even let him finish.

“No offense, but I don’t give a shit about who Arabella is or what she told you, we have a deadline to meet!”

Eddie stops at this and his date, who you now realize is probably the Arabella he was referring to, takes the moment to fully glare at you. You shoot her a half-hearted shrug in place of an apology.

For his part, Eddie is regarding you like he’s thinking over a math problem or trying to figure out a particularly tricky chord progression. His expression changes, however, as soon as he spots the rest of the band approaching behind you.

“Raincheck?” He offers dismissably.

You cross your arms and scoff. Truly, who the hell did he think he was?

“Go fuck yourself, Eddie.”

You give him no chance to respond before you turn around and stalk off in the opposite direction, not caring that the exit is in the other direction.

You walk past the others as you do and reactions to your outburst range from full guffaws (Argyle, Jonathan) to awkward grimaces (Nancy) to something right in between (Robin). Steve, on the other hand, looks almost angry and while you’re not sure who that anger is directed at—you have too much of your own to worry about it.

“Hey! Don’t be that way, we can write another night, I promise!” You hear Eddie calling out behind you, and suddenly this has become a full-on scene, but you keep walking.

He calls out for you again, this time you pick up on the light desperation coloring his voice but again, you don’t dare turn around. He calls out your name one last time and this time you do respond—by flipping him off.

***

ARABELLA CHEN (FORMER GROUPIE): I remember that! She was kind of a bitch, to be frank. You know, back then I tried not to hang around girls too much, they were always so much drama.

EDDIE: Why did I blow her off? Hm, not sure. I wasn’t doing any drugs back then so I can’t blame it on that. You know what? It was probably because I was...God, what’s the phrase? Oh, right. A jealous immature asshole.

***

You head to the hotel on your own that night, feeling annoyed and only a little bit lonely. You try to do some writing, but you're so wound up that it's no use, so you end up calling it a night early.

You are too wound up to even sleep and you spend the majority of the night falling asleep only to stir awake at the last minute, your energy too high to let you rest. You’re no longer angry and annoyed, though, mostly you're hungry.

You commiserate over the fact that Robin usually was your late-night snack supplier but obviously, she was no longer willing. And because Hopper had blown up at Eddie and Argyle for ordering $650 worth of room service in Nashville after getting a wicked case of the munchies which left you no choice by to shop the hotel vending machines to possible quiet your hunger.

The sad, barely-stocked machines were nestled at the end of the hall in a small separate room that also housed the ice machine You're scanning the rows of candy bars and chip bags trying to find something that was from this decade when the aggressive shrill of the elevator pulls your attention.

There's a cacophony of clumsy noises coming from the elevator. From where you're standing, you can see the occupants stumbling out, a flurried mess of limbs and hair. Eddie and the girl he had had on his arm. The one who had told him about the awesome bar or whatever. Arabella. It was a stupid name, truly. Like a fancy dog or a part of the royal family.

Likely, they can't see you from their spot, or maybe they could but they weren't so preoccupied trying to get Arabella's tongue all the way down Eddie's throat that they didn't. You stayed frozen in place as you watched them stumble to his room, fingers interwoven through hair and hands wandering underneath fabric. Eventually, Eddie hoisted her up and she wrapped her long, golden legs around his torso and you caught a glimpse of her nearly non-existent panties.

Finally, they clumsily stumbled into his room and you were able to escape from your hiding spot, snacks fully forgotten.

You tried to go to bed after that, hoping that the anger and annoyance you had felt earlier in the night had finally dissipated. And while those feelings had quieted, something else equally white-hot through the night you come to realize when after startling awake for the thousandth time you recall fragments of your dream. First, you remember Eddie, and then the girl he was with Arabella. And then you remember the rest. Hot, bare, skin-on-skin, and open-mouth kisses flood your memory, and you can't help but blush. You had been having a dirty dream about your bandmate. A bandmate that you had just had a very public fight with and to top it all off the girl that he chose to spend the night with over you also made a guest appearance in said dirty dream.

Yeah, that was fucked.

You sit up, blankets pulling around your waist and try to blink away the shame and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

It's not a big deal you tell yourself. Everyone has dirty dreams they're not proud of every once in a while. So, what if yours was about Eddie? It was probably an indication that you hadn't gotten any action in a really, really, long. Given your contractually obligated fake relationship, was that truly a surprise?

Your halfhearted attempts to go back to sleep are only met with visions of dark hair and long, ringed fingers exploring supple, rounded flesh.

When you finally decide it's no use, you get to writing instead.

***

The next day during sound check, you avoid Eddie. Partially because you’re still annoyed at him for blowing you off, and partially because the dream you had about him was still far too fresh in your mind you couldn’t count on yourself not to blush in his presence. He was not getting the message though, because he seemed to trail behind you the entire time. Not too close where it was obvious to the others, but close enough that you, the person who was actively trying to avoid him, noticed.

Eventually, you have no choice but to acknowledge him when he all but corners you as you’re leaving the restroom.

“Did you get the…things?” he asks lamely.

“What thing?” you ask, trying to gently push past him.

He looks nervous now, and a bit ashamed, but almost in a cute way like a chastised puppy.

“You, know, the things—” you continue to stare at him, blankly and he has no choice but to elaborate— “the flower things.”

Oh. That was him?

“Oh,” you respond, “That was you?”

It his turn to look befuddled now, bordering on mortified, “Who else could they have been from?”

“I don’t know,” you respond nonchalantly, “I kind of get flowers all the time.”

That was true. Back when you were going on fake dates for photo opps with every warm male body at Starcourt, you were receiving so many thank-you bouquets and charcuterie baskets you had run out of flat surfaces to put them on.

So, this morning when there had been a loud knock at your door, you had been more concerned about telling off whoever decided it was okay to bang on your door in the early hours of the morning (11 AM) than figuring out who sent the obnoxiously large bouquet that had been waiting for you when you opened the door.

“Plus, there was no note,” you add with a shrug.

“Well, of course, there was no note, the depth of my remorse and shame regarding my behavior last night is far too vast to fit onto a measly 3x5 piece of paper. I wanted to apologize in person, like a man.”

***

EDDIE: It was my first time getting someone flowers. I didn’t realize there was a note you had to write.

***

You stare at him, arms crossed and expectingly.

“I’m sorry I blew you off last night to go to a bar downtown with a mechanical bull and I am even more sorry about how much of a dick I was about it. Even though the mechanical bull was a lot of fun, it would’ve been even more fun if you were there. If it’s any consolation, I got knocked off the bull almost immediately. It was humiliating. I deserved it though after the way I spoke to you and if you’d like me, I’d like to make it up to you tonight. What do you say? I’ll buy you a bottle of that wine you like and we’ll have a hot and heavy writing sesh.”

It's at this point that you realize how close the two of you were. Eddie had you essentially caged against the wall, clearly trying to prevent you from slipping past him like you had all afternoon. The proximity along with hearing Eddie say “hot and heavy” immediately brought back memories that you were trying to avoid.

“Maybe,” you croak, as you duck underneath his arm and scurry around him, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the heat of his body. “Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”

***

EDDIE: She didn’t get back to me that day. Or the three days after that. She avoided me like the plague, actually. I had thought that the flowers and the heartfelt apology would’ve helped smooth things over a little but I guess I hadn’t realized how much I hurt her feelings.

Of course, I was kicking myself. I was sure that I had wrecked my chances. I told myself it was my fault for ever believing that I could ever have a chance with someone like her. I was ready to accept that it was all over before it ever even began.

And then the strangest thing happened.

***

April 20th, 1984, Pontiac, Missouri

It wasn’t like you were an overly sexual creature. Sure, you enjoyed sex, and you had sex a healthy amount of time, but you had never felt like if you didn’t have sex you would die. Until now.

Maybe it was all the time on the road that was getting to you. Maybe this was some weird psychological thing and your brain associated hotel linens with sexy rendezvous. Maybe being in a (fake) romantic relationship made you crave sexual intimacy as well. Whatever the reason was, you could not shake this growing hunger that burned in the pit of your stomach, and it was starting to affect you outside of just messing with your sleep.

Not only were the dreams happening more often now, but they were no longer just about Eddie. You had them about former flings, and old crushes, Steve was starting to become a frequent player. You think you may have had one about Nancy once, which was very surprising but not unwelcome.

You weren’t proud to admit it, but you saw Steve’s treasure trail once and had to spend 20 minutes in the bathroom splashing water on your face. Something very similar happened when Eddie wore a muscle tank to rehearsal.

You had tried handling the issue yourself and while you were able to get the job done, it always left you wanting more.

If you kept having dreams like these, you were eventually going to run out of bandmates you could look in the eye without blushing.

It wasn’t like you could hook up with someone random either. Outside of the obvious reason, it was too much of a risk for your relationship with Steve, both the fake one and the very tender one you had behind the scenes. Steve was the obvious choice to help resolve your issue because of the mutual attraction but you are certain if the two of you started having sex, no matter how casual you could claim it would be, feelings would start to develop sooner rather than later. He was too easy to like for that not to be the case.

You could’ve just ignored it and hoped it would go away, really, you could’ve. In fact, that would’ve been the sensible thing to do. Hell, you could’ve discreetly found a shop to purchase a vibrator and maybe this whole thing would’ve been resolved. But no, instead, you end up in front of Eddie Munson’s hotel door somewhere in Missouri about to set off a chain of events that was going to impact you for the rest of your life.

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

Taglist:

@rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #jonathan byers #eddie munson x yn #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington x f!reader

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abominable-space-they · 1 year

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One of my first Steddie fics was Steve going punk. I have a lot of feelings about Punk!Steve, so I am really pleased to see the fandom getting excited about it.

I was thinking about an Au in which Max discovers The Runaways & has a sweeping personal epiphany, gets into punk & starts playing the drums. She loves how cathartic it is, also that it's to loud for anyone to talk to her.

She starts teaching Eleven too as she learns. It turns out that once she's been exposed to the idea of making music, El has a gift. She picks it up with with an almost supernatural ease. Eventually they want to start a band, its the summer after 8th grade. Eleven switches to bass, bc she can, they recruit Erica who was absolutely scandalized to hear that no one knew she played piano & guitar. But they had a small problem when they wanted to do gigs. There was only one place, the hide out & they were extremely minors. In order to play, they had to have "a responsible adult".

There was no way any of their parents were gonna work for that duty.

Steve was the obvious answer to their problems. When he said he wasn't gonna spend every weekend sitting in a run down little bar, they offered him a spot in the band... which was a little unconventional but it was punk so whatever and actually Steve was perfect for a front man. He could talk to the crowd right? (Steve does not love the idea but sure fine he could do that maybe)

The thing is, these kids have worked so hard to make this happen, Steve can't actually say no... & If he was being totally honest with himself, he kinda loved being included. So he says yes to being a vocalist, co-vocalist.

He encourage them to also yell if they wanted... Erica has immediate ideas. The band progresses surprisingly well. When they decide they're ready Steve easily books a gig. Max & Erica are both massively annoyed it was so easy for him when it was their band and idea. But whatever they have their first gig planned

They argue about the name of the band for so long they have to emergency name it the weekend before the show so they can put up flyers. Max & El wanted to call it Mommy Issues, Erica had gotten really into X-Ray Spex & wanted to call them The Wrex. It got a little intense.

Steve in desperation suggested Cherry Rex... because it referenced The Runaways song Chery Bomb, and had the aesthetic energy of The Wrex & X-Ray Spex

To his shock they actually agreed on that.

Their first gig was on a Monday, to nobody but one very belligerently drunk guy who might have passed out in his booth. Of course they expected that more or less. It was more ok then they thought though, the girls had a blast... and actually so did Steve.

A month or three later and they'd slowly worked up the live band tenure and were getting their first Friday night slot. There would be four bands, two punk, two metal; Boondock Boyfriend, Death Vision, & Corroded Coffin. Cherry Rex were playing the opening spot being the newbies. Steve thought Corroded Coffin sounded vaguely familiar, but couldn't figure out where from. He wasn't to worried about it though, he was here for Cherry Rex.

Getting the parents permission to take the whole party to a borderline dive bar (he left that part out) had been one of the most trying experiences of Steve's young life, but in the end he got it done, and everyone was super excited.

------

Eddie always came early on the nights Corroded Coffin played, he liked supporting his fellow musicians, many of whom had only played parties and basements before they could get in here. It was a point of pride for him to not be a snob about it. He supported anyone and everyone who wasn't a bully or a bigot.

This weekend they had a whole new band, playing. He'd heard that it was a group of preteen punk rock girls, so of course the rock bros were grousing. He would have none of that though. He remembered when he first got into music as a preteen, the way it let him process feelings he was to scared to otherwise. He would definitely be there for their first weekend gig

So imagine his surprise when he finds Steve Harrington on stage. He introduced everyone Max on drums whom Eddie recognized from around, as well as her maybe? girlfriend?, who's name was apparently the number Eleven, on Bass. And Erica, who actually exhuded rock and roll energy, on guitar. Steve called himself their token adult. He spent half the time singing, but also dancing, sometimes being hype man for whomever was singing that particular song.

He was wearing a Hawkins High Tshirt that he'd scrawled The King is Dead across in Sharpie. Also light wash jeans, which Eddie had laughed about at first, but when he cut them off at the knee while they were still on his body, during Erica's song about self reliance, identity, and D&d... and he had fishnets on under them? He was completely won over. They were pretty good...and Steve Harrington, a punk? He was genuinely so fucked. So so fucked

(does Vecna & the upside down exist here? I don't know)

#fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things au #punk!steve #elmax #erica sinclair #eleven #jane hopper #punk au #rocker!eddie #max mayfield #band au #Cherry Rex

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jamesunderwater · 1 year

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Glimpse - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic

“Pads, it looks great, leave it,” James said, swatting at Sirius’s hands as they fidgeted with the bowtie. He dropped them, his frenetic energy shifting to his feet instead, where they began to bounce up and down. He kept glancing around the room as if something in the corner of the walls would settle him, and when it didn’t, he’d return his gaze to the mirror. There, an image of himself stared back, face pale with nervousness, hair lovingly moussed by Lily, shoulders broad and squared neatly by his tux. He looked good, he knew that—this wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. His stomach continued to eat itself.

Still staring at his reflection, he stuttered at James. “I think—maybe there’s—did we forget—oh, the setlist!” He glanced at his best friend then, suddenly relieved that he might have found the missing piece causing his unease. “Did we ever—?”

James cut him off. “Yes, we gave the band the setlist. Everything’s settled, mate. There’s nothing left to worry about…” James’s voice trailed off, a hint of concern in his tone. He’d been eyeing Sirius with that same concern for the last thirty minutes, secretly trying to puzzle out what was going on inside his best friend’s mind. Sirius knew this, as if he were in both his own and James’s mind at once. Usually, knowing James that well was a reassurance, but right now the echo of his own anxiety was not helping.

He slumped, running a hand through his hair, and turned away from the mirror. “Right. Maybe I just need some air. How long have we got?” He toyed with his cufflinks while James checked the time, letting him know he had ten minutes.

“Oi, I’m trusting you not to be a runaway bride, alright? Go get your air, but just know, I’m sending Lily after you if you’re not back in 8 minutes.”

Sirius couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the threat, nodding. “Got it.”

Leaving the room, he wondered at where he was actually headed. For air? For an emergency exit? Was he actually considering a runaway? His nervous feet moved without thinking, carrying him down the hall to the other dressing room, where he stopped at the closed door. This is what he really wanted. Just a moment with him, to remember the person he was choosing. He felt sure that would settle his raging stomach, just to meet his eye for a moment. But they’d discussed this at length, and Remus wanted the moment. He wanted his first look at Sirius today to be the moment he was heading down the aisle toward Remus. That stupid romantic git.

Sirius deliberated for a moment. If he was quiet…Remus could still have that moment. All he needed was a glimpse, really. Carefully, he reached for the doorknob and turned it as noiselessly as he could. The door was mercifully quiet, and he managed to open it an inch without making a sound, revealing a bright room. Lily’s red hair was the first thing he saw, directly in front of him, blocking the view of the taller body in front of her. Without noticing, he held his breath, waiting for her to step aside.

The moment he saw him, Sirius let out an audible sigh. He felt all of the tension in his body drain away, the gnawing in his stomach immediately turning into a lurching need to wrap his arms around the man before him. Remus was smiling brightly; everything about him seemed to glow, in fact. His hair was just the kind of messy Sirius liked, his strong hands working on closing the buttons of his coat, and he gave no indication of anxiety. In fact, he seemed to be joking with Lily about something Sirius couldn’t quite hear. And Sirius felt it, that settled feeling he’d been searching for. Rooted again by this simple glimpse, he closed the door gently, and returned to the room where his best friend waited.

“Ready,” he breathed, smiling brightly.

#i am incapable of writing short things oops #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #wolfstar fanfiction #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #my writing #ch: padfoot #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #wolfstar microfic #muses #wolfstar microfic*#wolfstar*

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sug4r-sp1c3 · 1 year

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BHA Kiri, Bakugo, Todaroki, Denki, and Shinso with a very affectionate s/o that always worries about them and their health?

Got you!

TW!: fluffy , ejehm swearing(COF COF KATSUKI COF COF), slightly mention of blood

since i'm a idiot with the part of very affectionate my stupid brain said "cuddles, kisses and fluff got it"

Pink/Purple text = little notes of me

Kirishima, Katsuki, Todoroki, Denki and Shinso with an affectionate S/O!

Kirishima

he LOVES you completely

Yes, sometimes it feels like it's not very "manly" of him when he feels like he doesn't care enough for you.

but your touch always calms him down and he always tries to reward you

He loves how sometimes even if he only has a scratch on his fist you are there

Did I mention that this man LOVES affection?

No? oh well i already did

Cuddling sessions that last longer than expected.

He loves anything either; a little peck on the cheek, a runaway hug, a bear hug, or even make out sessions (not horny), or just the two of you cuddling.

he always giggles when you are just asking if he's okay after training

(i think that he sometimes hurts himself just to see you worried and asking about how he did it...just sayin')

he loves to show you off [did i wrote it good? i needed to use the translator, my english is kinda bad rn]

not like "hey i have this cute asf S/o that cares about me..fuck off"

nononono

more like he likes to show the rest of ppl that he haves a partner that cares about them, even if some people think its adorable and it is

Katsuki

he says it's stupid

Says it is, but everyone knows it's not true

at first he will only grunt or mumble something

but come on, deep, deep down, he adores it

he likes the warm of you just hugging with him or

and he worries if he doesn't see you after he trains, you're not there

or when he goes back to his bedroom or even in the hallways, if you are not there to hug him or give him a kiss or hug good morning

sooner or later he will ask you if there is something wrong or he will start them,

now, with you worrying about his health, he also says it's stupid

but he doesn't complain when you clean his wounds or examine his body looking for a bruise or something that happened to him while training

he secretly adores them

But he'll take that to the grave.

It will only growl if you put something on it

"Fuck it i didn't need that on- CAN YOU WARN BEFORE YOU PUT THAT ON THE CUT?! IT FUCKING BURNS"

Todoroki

He would be the most- he is more like ignorant

the poor guy burned half his face- c'mon

He sometimes just stands there frozen

When he sees you come with things like disinfectants or Band-Aids after he's out of training, he feels flattered, like he doesn't deserve you.

and lets you know when the two of you are snuggling.

but he only murmurs it when you are half asleep or asleep

When you suddenly hug him, he just freezes for a few seconds, but then hugs you back with a tiny, micro-smile that only you can see.

the private a softens completely, you have it like putty in your hands,

and probably fell asleep there

He won't complain when you put the disinfectant on him

He'll just hiss(? once in a while, if the disinfectant seeps into the cut.

and when you're done, he'll give you a little smile and probably kiss your forehead or your temple

He values you so much that he would literally defend you with his life.

"Thank you [N/N]...i don't..really deserve you...i..love you"

Denki

Where do I begin-

this man just like kiri LOVES YOU

always after you finish healing him or when you finish giving him a little kiss or hug, he will put his hand on his heart dramatically and his hand on his forehead and say something stupid like

"Your love is so cute and lethal that I don't deserve it- My heeeeaaaart"

He will start hugging competitions.

Do you think you hugged him the longest? oohohoho wait until school is over this man will kill you (not literally obvious) with his hugs

do you think you kissed him more times? hA, he will shower you with kisses, he doesn't care if they look at him strangely, actually, he likes to be looked at

and speaking about that…

He likes people to see how his partner cares about him.

As always after he finishes training and sees you there, his idiot grin will grow bigger and he'll just grin like an idiot while you lecture him or something.

At the end of this I would just kiss your forehead and say "I don't deserve you" or "I love you [N/N]"

take it or leave it

he likes to start the kisses, and if he doesn't he tells to himself that he will do it at the next day.

i feel like he would even grab your cheeks just to be him the first one or the one that started the kiss

"No i kissed you first!- WAIT IT STILL HURTSSS [N/N]-"

Shinso

he's like a combination of katsuki and shoto

or well..kinda

He's confused...for saying it in..some way

he can control people and basically make them do the hell he wants..

but in the tiny case that he gets hurt ir injured

he doesn't process all until you both are cuddling and he haves bandages in the cuts..

but all thequestions go when he realizes that you both are cuddling

being honest i see him be like that kid that acts like don't likes PDA when he loves it

"people are watching us [N/N]...hey why did you stop??"

like katsuki, he probably gets used to random hugs or kisses in the morning

and when you don't give them, he starts to worry

but like..too much

and he probably will start the kisses , hugs, etc..

I SAID PROBABLY

[this isn't mine! it was made by fnafhs-aesthetics ! if you are a fan of FHS and want a banner or an icon go and check their profile!]

hey! sorry if i taked to long!

but here it is anon!

#katsuki x reader #Kirishima x reader #kaminari x reader #shinso x reader #BNHA x reader #x reader #bnha x reader headcanons

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thegayhimbo · 6 months

Text

Stranger Things Flight of Icarus Review

If you haven’t yet, be sure to check out my other Stranger Things Reviews. Like, Reblog, and let me know what your thoughts are regarding the show or the upcoming season! :)

Stranger Things Comics/Graphic Novels:

Stranger Things Six

Stranger Things Halloween Special

Stranger Things The Other Side

Stranger Things Zombie Boys

Stranger Things The Bully

Stranger Things Winter Special

Stranger Things Tomb of Ybwen

Stranger Things Into The Fire

Stranger Things Science Camp

Stranger Things “The Game Master” and “Erica’s Quest”

Stranger Things and Dungeons and Dragons

Stranger Things Kamchatka

Stranger Things Erica The Great

Stranger Things “Creature Feature” and “Summer Special”

Stranger Things Tie-In Books:

Stranger Things Suspicious Minds

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 1 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 2 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 3 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 1 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 2 of 3)

Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (Part 3 of 3)

Stranger Things Rebel Robin Book and Podcast (Part 1 of 2)

Stranger Things Rebel Robin Book and Podcast (Part 2 of 2)

Stranger Things Hawkins Horrors Review

Stranger Things Episode Reviews:

The Vanishing of Will Byers (Part 1 of 2)

The Vanishing of Will Byers (Part 2 of 2)

Synopsis: Hawkins, Indiana: For most, it’s simply another idyllic, manicured all-American town. But for Eddie Munson, it’s like living in a perpetual Tomb of Horrors. Luckily, he has only a few more months to survive at Hawkins High. And what is senior year, really, but killing time between Dungeons & Dragons sessions with the Hellfire Club and gigs with his band, Corroded Coffin? At the worst dive bar in town, Eddie meets Paige, someone who has pulled off a freaking miracle. She escaped Hawkins and built a wickedly cool life for herself working for a record producer in Los Angeles. Not only is she the definition of a badass—with killer taste in music—but she might also be the only person who actually appreciates Eddie as the bard he is instead of as the devil incarnate. But the best thing? She’s offering him a chance to make something of himself, and all he needs to do is get her a demo tape of Corroded Coffin’s best songs. Just one problem: Recording costs money. Money Eddie doesn’t have. But he’s willing to do whatever it takes, even if that means relying on his dad. Al Munson has just stumbled back into Eddie’s life with another dubious scheme up his sleeve, and yet Eddie knows this is his only option to make enough dough in enough time. It’s a risk, but if it pays off he will finally have a one-way ticket out of Hawkins. Eddie can feel it: 1984 is going to be his year.

Observations:

Ordinarily, when I do these reviews, I sum up the synopsis in my own words to convey my experience reading it. This time, I took the synopsis word-for-word from the book cover because I found it unintentionally hilarious and teeth-grinding that the publishers at Random House Worlds would try to bait Stranger Things fans like this. They had to have known most people who bought this book already saw the fourth season and were aware of Eddie's eventual fate. Even if they hadn't seen it, a.) It's pretty much an open spoiler at this point, and b.) You can figure out real quickly from the title (Flight of Icarus) and your basic knowledge of Greek Mythology exactly how this story is going to go. Giving both the audience and Eddie a Hope Spot in thinking things might improve for him was a cruel joke.

I know that prior to this books release, there were fans accusing Netflix of trying to milk Eddie's popularity with the audience despite his eventual fate in season 4. Having finally read the book myself.................it's a little more complicated than that.

Yes, the book does bait the audience with the idea of things getting better for Eddie when we already know that's not going to happen. At the same time though, it wasn't a book devoid of substance. There were themes and character interactions that left a lot to chew on, and might even play an upcoming role in season 5. Just like with Rebel Robin, there were aspects of the book that struck a personal nerve with me because of how they related to what's gone on in my life and what's currently going on in the world right now.

I'll discuss the book in detail here (Spoilers Ahead!) and let you decide for yourselves if this is a book you want to read.

Part 1: Eddie's relationships to other characters

The synopsis covers the majority of the plot. Eddie's in senior year, failing school, and coasting by on the Hellfire Club, his band, and his dead-end job at a bar. Unlike his friend Ronnie, he has no future prospects ahead of him until he encounters a girl from Los Angeles named Paige, who overhears Eddie playing one night and invites him (and Corroded Coffin) to record their music for a studio called WR Records. The hopes are that her boss, Davey, will be impressed enough that he'll invite Eddie and the band to later fly out to Los Angeles for an audition with the executives. Following them recording for Davey, Paige reveals to Eddie that Davey's more impressed with him than his band and only wants him to come out to LA to become a rockstar. However, Eddie still needs the money to make this dream a reality. So when his dad shows up with an illegal job that involves stealing weed from a Kingpin's truck so they can sell it for money, he reluctantly agrees despite knowing things could go wrong.

And just based on where Eddie is by the time season 4 starts, you already know how this is going to turn out.

Eddie on the show was already established as being an outcast who gets blamed for the murders committed by Vecna, but this book further explores that he was the town scapegoat way before any of this happened. Part of it has to do with his low socioeconomic status, part of it has to do with the bad reputation the Munson family has in Hawkins as crooks and lowlifes thanks to the behavior of Eddie's father (who is a loser and a sorry excuse for a dad), part of it has to do with the Hellfire Club and all the pearl-clutching parents did in the 80s about D&D being linked to Satanism (which, as Erica puts it in season 4, was bullshit), and the rest are people in Hawkins projecting their issues onto Eddie. They want to believe the worst in Eddie, and don't care about creating a self-fulfilling prophecy with they way they treat him.

Wayne Munson also gets fleshed-out more in this book, which I appreciate because he's one of the few adult characters on the show that I like. Unlike Al, who is constantly absent from Eddie's life unless he needs something from him, Wayne is a parental figure to Eddie who made sure he was being fed and taken care of when he needed it.

He's also one of the only people who treats Eddie like a person and believes in him when no one else does.

On top of that, Wayne is shrewd and able to put the pieces together just by reading a situation. He's the kind of person who can look at someone and figure out if they're being honest or not. When Al comes back into Eddie's life, he knows Al is up to no good, and he puts together pretty quickly that Eddie is going along with Al's con to get money. He allows Eddie to make his own choices, but he also warns Eddie that he's lying to himself if he thinks this is going to go well for him.

On a semi-related note, the way Wayne is depicted here gives more context behind why he was willing to let Nancy interview him when Eddie went missing after Chrissy's death: Unlike other reporters , who were either gearing up to paint Eddie as the villain before anything was confirmed, or else were trying to get their big break with this story, Wayne could tell Nancy wasn't just there to advance her career. She genuinely had an interest in what happened, and Wayne likely suspected something else (i.e. the death of Barb) was motivating Nancy to look into this case.

Another relationship that gets more context as well is the one between Jason and Eddie. There were hints in the fourth season that these two had a history with one another before Jason wrongly suspected Eddie of killing Chrissy and led the basketball team in hunting him down. This book confirms that history. I will admit I had a headcanon for a while that Jason and Eddie used to be friends before falling out (which is also something Mason Dye joked about), but this book blows that out of the water by revealing they've been enemies since they knew each other. Jason was a part of a jock group led by Tommy Hagan (Steve's former best friend) who bullied students like Gareth who were either outcasts or part of the Hellfire Club. But because Tommy and Jason were valued basketball players at the high school, they were able to get away with their behavior whereas Eddie would get punished simply for trying to help out his friends.

This puts the cafeteria scene between Eddie and Jason in a whole different light: Eddie's disdain for Jason in that moment wasn't because Jason did basketball, but because he knew Jason as a bully and had nothing but contempt for him:

Just like with Lucas on the Line, this book doesn't paint Jason in a good light. Not only is he associating with Tommy (who is just as loathsome as he was in season 1), but the book also hints at the darker, zealot side of his personality that's going to be on display in two years following the events of this book:

Chrissy also makes an appearance, and she's just as nice of a person as she was on the show. She actually intervenes (unsuccessfully) on Gareth's behalf to stop Tommy and Jason from bullying him, and we get to witness the flashback to the talent show when Eddie first encountered Chrissy and she showed him empathy and compassion in a moment when Eddie was feeling vulnerable after his dad didn't show up to watch him perform.

While I'm not an Edissy/Hellcheer shipper, I understand the appeal of that relationship, as well as why the Duffer Brothers later regretted killing off Chrissy when there was more that could have been explored with her character. I'm also deeply sorry Grace Van Dien was harassed by immature Stranger Things fans because she liked the Eddie/Chrissy ship (to the point Joseph Quinn had to speak up in her defense). No actor or actress should ever have to put up with disgusting behavior like that. I wish people in this fandom would grow the hell up already, and stop treating the actors as if they're props to project themselves onto. 😒

We also get to know more about Eddie's parents in this book. Eddie's mom is dead by this point (though her love for music is a big reason why Eddie was inspired to take up guitar) and Eddie's dad is a contender for one of the worst fathers in the series. He isn't as awful as Neil Hargrove, but he makes little to no effort to raise Eddie (to the point Eddie is often fending for himself), is constantly engaging in illegal activities and ending up in trouble with the law, only comes back for Eddie when he needs something from him (something that Eddie is painfully aware of), and straight-up abandons his son to the cops the moment his heist plan lands both of them in trouble and results in a police officer getting shot. He's a selfish man who's good at lying to everyone around him, and even to himself. The sad thing is, because Eddie is so desperate to get out of Hawkins, he willingly believes his dad's plan to get them rich so they can move to LA and fulfill his dream, which makes it more of a gut punch when everything eventually goes downhill.

Given Eddie's death in season 4, I seriously question if his dad is going to show up at all if he ever hears about what happened to his son. Somehow, I doubt it.

The final character with any real significance is Gareth. In this book, he's a freshman who's up-and-coming in the Hellfire Club, and there's a whole subplot dedicated to Eddie helping him to craft a perfect D&D character that resembles who Gareth is rather than having him borrow someone else's character. Also, as noted before, Eddie is one of the few people who defends Gareth from high school bullies, which is why Gareth has a lot of loyalty towards Eddie. I know Gareth became an Ensemble Dark Horse for many fans when Season 4 premiered, and I would be thrilled if he, along with the rest of the Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin, got significant roles in season 5. Maybe they could team up with the Party to defeat Vecna.

The rest of the new characters are by-the-numbers. Ronnie is Eddie's lifelong friend who has a future at NYU, and they both have a falling out due to disagreements with Eddie's choices. Paige gets into a romantic relationship with Eddie for a while (which also falls apart later), but she isn't really memorable and doesn't stick out the same way that other characters from tie-in materials do (i.e. Mr Hauser from Rebel Robin, Joey Kim from Zombie Boys, etc). Mr. Higgins, the principal who has it out for Eddie, is the embodiment of Mr. Vernon from The Breakfast Club, and his interactions with Eddie are pretty similar to the ones Vernon has with Judd Nelson's character (John Benson) in the movie. Officer Moore is a stereotypical asshole cop who harasses Eddie because he sees him as a future criminal who will grow up to be just like his dad.

There are a few brief cameo's from the main characters: Hopper appears towards the end when Eddie is arrested, and is one of the few people sympathetic to Eddie's plight. Will and Jonathan also make an appearance when Eddie defends Will from jocks who make fun of Will for being "Zombie Boy," gives Will some encouragement about being who he is and embracing his love for D&D, and even offers to sell Jonathan some weed (which is cheeky foreshadowing for Jonathan's drug habit that develops in season 4).

Out of all the interactions with the main characters, the one between Will and Eddie was my favorite. Even though Will never joined Hellfire Club due to moving to Lenora, it's nice seeing these two get to interact and bond over something they love.

So that sums it up for the characters and main story. Let's talk about the main themes:

Part 2: Eddie and "Forced Conformity"

Just like with El in season 4, and even Steve, there's always been this stigma that because Eddie did badly in school, it meant he was dumb. However, unlike El, who struggles to catch up with her peers because of the way Brenner raised her (but is keenly aware of concepts even if she doesn't have the words for them at the time), or Steve who was more interested in chasing popularity at the expense of his grades (but has demonstrated his intelligence and ability to make connections that other people miss), Eddie doesn't put effort into school because he doesn't care to. School and homework doesn't interest him. D&D, Corroded Coffin, playing songs on his guitar, and even the works of J.R.R Tolkien do, which is why he invests more time into those things:

There was a GIF set last year with bits of trivia about Eddie, and something that was noted in it is that Metallica's album Master of Puppets was released on March 3, 1986. Given the night Eddie performs their song "Master of Puppets" in the Upside Down was on March 27, 1986, this means he had less than 3 weeks to learn how to master the song on his guitar. Some fans will probably dismiss this as "lazy writing" (which I notice gets thrown around a lot these days when people don't want to think critically), but I beg to differ. Eddie is invested in music. It speaks to him. That investment, combined with doing something he loves, means he's going to put time and effort into learning the song. I can buy he learned "Master of Puppets" in less than 3 weeks because he's that good of a guitarist, and he was passionate about the song in the same way he's passionate about D&D and Tolkien.

The problem though is those kind of interests aren't considered "acceptable" by the school system, which is more interested in churning out "productive members of society" and punishing those who don't get on board with the program (This is a theme that's also explored in both Rebel Robin and Lucas on the Line). It doesn't help that Hellfire Club, D&D, and the music Eddie loves to play constantly come under fire due to the Satanic Panic at the time, which only causes Eddie's resentment towards Hawkins and his school to fester.

You'd think things would have changed in the 4 decades since this series took place, but given how we're still living in an era of "concerned parents" wanting to ban specific books from being read by kids, or else enforce a conservative viewpoint in schools that prevents any kind of critical thinking, it's fair to say we haven't. In fact, there's an argument that things have gotten worse in recent years.

We can talk all day about the problems with the education system and school curriculum in the United States until the cows come home, but the point is Eddie is aware of the "forced conformity" schools impose on students, and is having none of it. As a result, he's punished for rebelling against the system.

It doesn't help that none of the teachers, nor Mr. Higgins, are remotely interested in trying to reach out to Eddie. They have decided in their minds that Eddie is a waste of space, and are either condescending or dismissive towards him. Even Robin, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Will had teachers like Mr. Clarke or Mr. Hauser who were interested in bringing the best out of their students. Eddie has been written off as a lost cause, and aside from his uncle Wayne (who's limited in what he can do for Eddie), no other adults believe in him. That just makes his eventual death later on harder to stomach.

I hate teachers and school authorities like Mr. Higgins. I get they have to put up with a lot of crap, both from kids and from the stress their jobs can bring, but I have no respect for teachers who either go to the lengths of bullying their students, or come up with preconceived notions about a student and then unfairly project that onto them so they can feel justified in treating them with contempt.

I had two teachers like this when I was growing up: One of them was from fifth grade. The second was my English Teacher from my senior year of High School.

The former was a straight-up bully who had a reputation for making kids cry (I was one of them) and was a Bitch in every sense of the word. I do not have good memories of her class, and I know several students who had their lives impacted by her for the worst: One of them was someone I went to the same church with whose mom later pulled him out to be home-schooled because he was frequently targeted by that teacher. The second was a former friend who had a rough time in her class, and later forfeited going to college entirely (and now works in retail) because of the impact she left on her. I make no secret that I DON'T miss her, and I hope she's no longer teaching.

As for my English Teacher, she was a condescending twat. She presented herself as an expert in literature, but I later found out that A LOT of her so-called "discussions" and "lessons" were taken straight from SparkNotes. I remember her going out of her way to publicly humiliate me in front of the class because I did a presentation that she didn't like, and then she later got patronizing with me over a different assignment several months later, saying she could see how I was struggling and then said "Allow me to give you some advice: Try harder." This was when I was also juggling 4 other AP classes and a Spanish class, along with my extracurricular activities, so this wasn't like I was half-assing my work. Once again, I was not the only person she treated like is. Multiple students despised her, and there was even a rumor for a while that she was a misandrist, which is why she treated the girls better than the boys. I can't confirm if this was true, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. My brother (who's one of the smartest people I know) was fully aware of her reputation prior to his senior year, and specifically took a different English class just to avoid her. I still maintain that was the best decision he ever made.

I should briefly mention that, despite the two examples I just listed, I had some wonderful teachers growing up. Ones that not only encouraged me, but made their classes engaging to the point that I took an interest in topics I hadn't before. The entire reason I later pursued a degree in History is BECAUSE of my teachers in High School.

Regardless of whether people want to admit it, teachers are some of the most important people next to parents in a kid's life. They can either be the ones to elevate a student and set them on a good path, or they can be the ones to tear them down and dismiss them as a lost cause. It's a big reason I feel strongly about who teaches in schools and how our education system is structured, and why I get angry whenever teachers or school authorities either abuse their power, are apathetic about their jobs and their students, or else project their issues onto kids. I'm not saying there aren't kids out there without major behavioral problems that need to be dealt with (I literally had one such kid yell "Fuck You" at me two weeks ago from a speeding truck for no discernible reason, so I'm not advocating that all kids are sweet angels), but it infuriates me to see characters like Mr. Higgins who are smug in their belief that they have teens like Eddie figured out, and don't want to hear anything that contradicts that. People like that shouldn't be teaching in schools, period.

Part 3: The Evils of Society

Back in 2005, there was a horror movie called Chaos that was released, which got negative reviews and a scathing response from film critic Roger Ebert, who proceeded to call the movie "ugly, nihilistic, and cruel." The film's writer and director didn't take this well, and posted a letter to the Chicago-Sun Times where he condescendingly told Ebert that the movie was supposed to be ugly, nihilistic, and cruel as a way of conveying what evil was like in the 21st century, and smugly asked Ebert if he preferred the movie was sanitized of violence. Ebert later responded in a very classy and intelligent manner, where he not only called out the director for his sanctimoniousness, but also deconstructed his whole argument of depicting evil in a movie with no meaningful point or catharsis:

"I believe evil can win in fiction, as it often does in real life. But I prefer that the artist express an attitude toward that evil. It is not enough to record it; what do you think and feel about it? Your attitude is as detached as your hero's."

"Your real purpose in making "Chaos," I suspect, was not to educate, but to create a scandal that would draw an audience. There's always money to be made by going further and being more shocking. Sometimes there is also art to be found in that direction, but not this time. That's because your film creates a closed system in which any alternative outcome is excluded; it is like a movie of a man falling to his death, which can have no developments except that he continues to fall, and no ending except that he dies. Pre-destination may be useful in theology, but as a narrative strategy, it is self-defeating."

I've seen fans who've complained about the direction season 4 took in its tone and it's depiction of bullying and the Satanic Panic, with people complaining about it being "trauma/torture porn," which............I strongly disagree with. Trauma/Torture porn is (as Ebert points out) the kind of thing that has no point beyond indulging in meaningless suffering. Season 4 was dark (probably the darkest season they've done so far), but there was a message the Duffer Brothers were making with it; Not just in depicting how and why bullying becomes a pervasive problem, or how Vecna acts as a metaphor for depression and trauma driving people into despair, but also how the current social systems and attempts to force people to be "normal" cause long-term problems.

Bullies like Angela and Jason didn't suddenly decide to become awful overnight. Their behavior was enabled, not just by their peers, but by the adults around them who did little to nothing to stop the way they acted. Look at when El gets publicly humiliated at Rink-O-Mania by Angela and her friends, and how the adults there either participated with the other bystanders in it, or did absolutely nothing to stop what was happening to El (yet were conveniently available for Angela's benefit when El smashed Angela's face in with a roller-skate). Look at how Jason was able to turn a room of adults into a lynch mob to go after kids who were a part of the Hellfire Club by appealing to their fear of the Satanic Panic, as well as their fear of all the terrible things that had been happening in Hawkins.

Adults play a major role in whether kids become spoiled, entitled brats, and that was absolutely the case with Angela. As for Jason, he was a star basketball player who made Hawkins High look good, which is why Mr. Higgins and other teachers always looked the other way at his behavior (as depicted in both this book and Lucas on the Line). It's also why both Angela and Jason felt justified in their awful behavior: Angela was able to convince herself that El had snitched when she hadn't, and therefore deserved to be punished for it. And when El finally had enough and lashed out, Angela twisted the narrative in her head to make it out like she was the innocent victim and El was the bully. Same thing with Jason in regards to how he treats Eddie: Jason sees himself as the perfect "All American Boy" and Eddie as the freak who may one day become a criminal and gives Hawkins a bad name. And while the deaths of Chrissy and Patrick (combined with witnessing how Patrick died which he chalked up to Eddie being in league with Satan) played a major role in Jason's actions, he already had preconceived notions about Eddie without truly getting to know him first. There's an argument to be had that, even without Chrissy's death, he would have looked for any reason to go after Eddie if he felt justified in doing so.

Even isolated areas like Hawkins Lab weren't exempt from this: Dr. Brenner specifically fostered a culture among the special kids where he would put them at odds with one another to fight for his approval, and allowed El to be viciously bullied by Two and the others in the hopes it would unlock her potential and get him the results he wanted. Brenner established the institution where El grew up in, and was the main person who benefited from it. Two was a vicious bully similar to Angela, but the reason he became that is because Brenner and his cronies enabled his behavior (only punishing him as a means of building up resentment among the other kids towards El and making her more of an outcast as part of his plans).

Likewise, there's an interesting parallel between Eddie and Vecna: Both are "outcasts" whom society tried to force to be "normal." However, while Eddie still maintained compassion and empathy for others, as well as making it his mission to look out for other outcasts like Mike, Dustin, and Lucas so their lives wouldn't be miserable, Vecna internalized the rage and resentment of "performing in a silly terrible play, day after day" until it consumed him and turned him into the monster everyone feared. Now he intends to destroy everything and everyone so he can create the world he wants.

It's the Harvey Dent quote from The Dark Knight:

Eddie, despite being treated badly for most of his life, died as a hero, protecting those he cared about. Vecna lived to become the villain, and has abandoned his humanity in pursuit of his goals.

Tying this all back to Roger Ebert's letter: While Season 4 may have been dark, there was meaning to be found in the darkness: The season hit on the theme that, in spite of how Hawkins looks like a perfect suburban neighborhood, there's a lot of rot underneath, and NOT just from the Upside Down. There's an inherent bigotry in the town (and others like it, such as Lenora), of institutions trying to mold students and teachers into "productive members of society" at the cost of their happiness and well being, of punishing anything that's considered abnormal or against the status quo, of how ostracizing "outcasts" can lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy where the person either becomes the monster (Vecna) or is scapegoated and can never escape those stigmas no matter how hard they try (Eddie).

The Duffer Brothers aren't apathetic in their attitude about how they depict characters and themes on the show. If anything, they care deeply. It's why they wrote the character of Eddie in the first place, and based him off of Damien Echols, one of the West Memphis Three who was wrongfully convicted in 1994 of the murder of three boys in Arkansas, with a lot of bias directed at them due to the three of them being "delinquents" (as well as how the police pressured them into giving false confessions), which resulted in their lives getting ruined. Likewise on the show, Eddie is accused of killing Chrissy when he didn't (simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time), and his life got destroyed because of it. Even if he was a delinquent with his own personal issues, he didn't deserve what happened to him. Neither did Damien Echols. Society failed both of them, and allowed the true killers to go unpunished.

There are a lot of problems in our society today that have carried over from the 80s: From cultures that enable bullies and punish their victims, to attempts to control what kids learn in schools and how they should act, to bigotry and biases that aren't just rooted in people but in the institutions and laws that uphold the social structure, to people like Jason who take the law into their own hands regardless of the collateral damage it will cause, to government corruption, to people dehumanizing others because it's more important for them to be right over being nice, and so on. Stranger Things may be a love letter to the 80s, but it does not shy away from deconstructing the uglier aspects of that decade, and conveying how some of those issues had carried over into today's culture.

Final Thoughts:

Overall, this book is a mixed bag. It gives interesting details about Eddie and his life, and provides better context for certain scenes in season 4. Given that Caitlin Schneiderhan (the author of the book) had talks with the Duffer Brothers and other Stranger Things writers prior to penning this, it's likely this book can be considered canon. It's also a book that inspires discussion (as you can tell from what I've written), which is always a plus.

However, if you're a fan of Eddie, and you were upset over his death, this book isn't going to give you any catharsis. Unlike others, I'm not going to claim it's milking off of Eddie's popularity. At the same time though, it is hard to read when it teases that things might get better for Eddie and you already know what Eddie's fate is going to be.

In other words, you have to decide for yourself if this is a book you want to read. I hope my synopsis and this review gives some idea of what to expect.

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rhapsodynew · 11 days

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Robert Plant and the American rock band The Runaways. Surrounded by ladies. Dam, dam, yes, yes, yes.

Robert Plant Wanted Lita Ford (The Runaways) to replace John Paul Jones

Apparently, the frontman and vocalist of the British rock band Led Zeppelin Robert Plant wanted to fire the bass player John Paul Jones and find a replacement in person Lita Ford, lead guitarists of the American band The Runaways.

In her memoirs, Lita notes that Plant approached her after The Runaways performed in Los Angeles in 1975.

That's what she writes:

"(He) asked if I could play the bass. "Who should I play for?" I asked. "For Led Zeppelin."

Maybe he was drinking or just bantering, but there was simply no more serious face to be found."

More Ford didn't hear anything from Plant, but around the same time Jones is leaving Led Zeppelin.

In 1997, the guitarist The Runaways also released a tribute album called Rock And Roll in honor of Led Zeppelin's record of the same name.

#robert plant #led zeppelin #The Runaways #lita ford #musicians #music story #my music #music #music love #musica #history music #spotify #my spotify #rock music #rock #rock photography #music history #music store #Spotify

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polizwrites · 8 months

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Somewhere to Turn

This is a fill for today's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [FFF215 Mall at Night] as well as my @bingowinteriron FREE square

Fandom: MCU/Marvel Pairing: Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Rating: General Tags: No Powers AU, young Tony Stark, runaway, friendship Word Count: 845

Bucky was definitely beginning to regret watching Dawn of the Dead with Clint before starting his first shift as a night watchman at the mall. It was all too easy to look down a darkened hallway and imagine that there were zombies shambling towards him out of the shadows, inexorable in their hunger for human flesh. That and the winter wind howling across the parking lot sounded positively eerie. But a job was a job, and Bucky would be damned if he was quitting before he even started.

Ms. Hill had informed him that he needed to walk the entire building at least three times during his shift, checking in through a series of QR codes, posted on the wall at the end of each wing. At least he’d be getting some exercise, he supposed.

Bucky realized he actually missed the background music that played through the speakers overhead during the day, and wondered briefly if he had the ability to turn it back on. Sure, it was all instrumental cover versions of songs that were at least as old as he was, but at least then he wouldn’t hear the echoes of his own footsteps.

As Bucky turned the corner to enter the food court, a flash of movement caught his eye. There was something - or someone - behind the counter of Luca’s Pizza, trying to open the door to the kitchen area.

“Hey!” Bucky fumbled his flashlight from its holster and turned it on; realizing belatedly that if the intruder had been armed, he’d made quite a target of himself.

But instead, the figure froze, put its hands up and turned around. “Don’t shoot! Please!”

Bucky approached cautiously - even though part of him knew he should be calling the police, the voice had sounded young and scared.

“What are you doing here?” he called out instead, making his way over through the cluster of tables in the middle of the room. “How’d you get in?”

“I hid in the bathroom when the mall closed. You know, like in that book? Admittedly this isn’t the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but…” The guy - no, more of a kid, probably somewhere in his late teens, if Bucky had to guess – shrugged.

He was dressed in a dark long sleeved shirt with a band tee over it, jeans and sneakers - just like any other teen that had walked through the doors earlier in the day. But he was wearing a facemask and the backpack on his shoulder was nearly bursting at the seams.

“Okay,” Bucky replied, not ready to let down his guard quite yet, “but I still want to know what you’re doing here.”

The guy met Bucky’s gaze, the bags under his whiskey brown eyes proof of lost sleep and sorrow. “For what it’s worth, I was going to leave money on the counter to cover the cost of the repairs, and the food. I just needed somewhere warm to stay tonight.”

Bucky’s heart went out to him; yes, he was technically trespassing, and had been in the process of breaking and entering, but Bucky knew a little something about being forced to be on your own too young. “Listen, if you’re homeless, there’s a shelter about a half a mile from here.”

The guy shook his head. “I can’t. They’d turn me in.”

“What do you mean?”

The guy sighed and took his mask off. “I’m Tony Stark.”

“Well, shit.” The disappearance of the heir to the Stark fortune had been all over the news; with the death of his parents the month before, rumors were flying about a potential kidnapping and ransom scenario. “So, you’re, what? A runaway?”

“Something like that, I guess.” He shrugged again, a haunted look briefly flashing across his face. “I know what you’re thinking, ‘Poor little rich kid. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Never had to work a day in his life - what in the hell could he be running from?” He spat the words out bitterly.

“No, no, I wasn’t.” Bucky replied, making a decision that would probably bite him in the ass at some point. “Listen - how about you come hang out with me in the security office til the end of my shift?” he offered. “I’ve got leftovers stashed in the fridge - enough to split. I’ll call my roommate and let him know someone needs to use our couch for awhile. He’ll be cool with it.”

“Huh? What… why would you do all that for someone you don’t even know?” The mix of confusion and wariness on Tony’s face made Bucky’s heart go out to him.

“Because my step dad kicked me out of the house when I was sixteen because he found out I was gay,” Bucky explained. “I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but I figure it’s got to be pretty serious if you’re scrounging for mall pizza.”

Tony huffed out a soft laugh. “You may have a point there.” He lifted his eyes again, and this time Bucky saw a bit of hope shining there.

#writing stuff #fanficlet #Flash Fiction Friday #mcu/marvel #winteriron #Tony & Bucky #shameless self promo

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girldewar · 21 days

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🥰 or 😭 or 😵‍💫 <33333

woe! timbrady be upon ye. this is from a teenage runaway thing i was working on a couple years ago that i'd really love to revisit but unfortunately sort of left my brain in 2022 :/

It’s a nothing night, some random house show with a no-name high school band that was put on by a friend of a friend of a friend who Josh is maybe trying to fuck. Tim agreed to go because he’s seventy percent of Josh’s impulse control, and because if he didn’t, he’d be spending his Friday night fruitlessly dialing Shane for calc answers.

But it’s been an hour and the band’s just started their set, finally, now that everyone’s high enough that the singer’s whispery excuse for vocals sound revelatory instead of shitty. Josh disappeared half an hour ago with the girl, the friend’s friend’s friend, and Tim is standing sort of toward the edge of the crowd, largely uninterested in showing up to practice tomorrow with a bunch of extra bruises from the mosh pit.

He shoves the last of his gas station bag of Ruffles in his mouth, and he pulls out his phone. His messages are barren, Josh having ignored the rosy-cheeked emoji Tim shot him about ten minutes after he vanished. Besides that, the last thing Tim sent anyone was the house’s address, which has likewise gone unanswered. Tim flicks his phone off and slips it back in his pocket, frowning lightly. Pulls it out again unconsciously and feels the crease between his eyebrows deepen when the lock screen still comes up empty.

It’s not like he’d owed a response, obviously, but Tim’s not used to being ignored. For a moment he debates the merits of stepping outside just to leave a voicemail, but he wouldn’t be able to get back inside. Josh got them in the first time, and Tim’s pretty sure plus-ones don’t get priority re-entry.

He’s pulled the thread back up to double-text, because fuck it, honestly, he’s too bored and a little wasted for this, and anyway he has a faint headache coming on, when a voice says, too loud and too close to his ear, “Someone keeping you waiting?”

Tim bites down on a ridiculous grin. “Just this guy. Said he’d meet me here but he’s running late.”

Hands settle on his hips briefly before lifting up and away, rubbing over Tim’s upper arms. “Well that’s rude of him.” Tim can hear his smile. “What an idiot, bailing on a guy like you.”

“Oh yeah? A guy like me, huh?” Tim gives it another second for the incredulous laughter to bubble up, and then he spins around. He is sure his face is ridiculous. He’s smiling incandescently and his cheeks are flushed from the crowd and it’s so good to see Brady that he can barely remember to breathe. “Hey there.”

Brady’s smiling a little dumb and open-mouthed. His eyes are clear. He must have driven here from his parents’ house. “Hey. Sorry about that. Dinner ran late.”

Tim shrugs. His headache’s completely cleared up now and everything. “Just glad you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” Brady says, drawing it out a little and looking around. “This is kinda ass, isn’t it?”

Tim shrugs again. He’s feeling very magnanimous. “You’re just too sober to appreciate it.”

“Don’t actually know if that makes it better.” Brady doesn’t wait for an answer, and Tim doesn’t really want to give one anyway. He’s not sure why he’s defending it. He’s only here for Josh, and it’s not like Josh is around to hear them talking, now. But Brady — and this is why Brady is the best, why Tim texted him to come along instead of Shane or Jacob or, god forbid, Drake — Brady leans in close and breathes hot into Tim’s ear. “You wanna get out of here?” He puts on an affect so it’s a joke.

Tim swallows. His face hurts from smiling. “Where are you gonna take me?”

“Dunno.” Brady’s hands are back on his hips. “I know this real nice place near here, great food, sit-down service.”

“Sounds fancy,” Tim hedges.

“Well,” says Brady. He pulls back so they’re a normal distance apart. A safe distance. “Worth it, for a guy like you.”

#ty britt!!!#ask #alltheprettyplaces #rpf talk #718

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im-notbean · 5 months

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Punz x Male! Soccer player! Reader. Pt 1.5

A drabble inside of my AU of Punzo <Link here if you want context lol>

Punz went Live!: Introducing...with face cam???

Y/N sat in his boyfriends gaming chair he had told him that he cpuld use his computer any time Y/N wanted and yes, he were using that to his advantage. Y/N waited about two minutes before testing the mic out.

"Hello..? I don't know hoe to work this thing so...uh is the mic working chaters?"

Orange_: its working

i-heart-mum: ayee punzo...that aint fucking punz-

Fossabot: im_notbean subscribed with a teir 1! Their on a 18 month streak!

gayfrogo: WHERE IS PUNZO-

"In case your wondering, no I'm not Luke. But I do know how to work his setup, which is his fault for teaching me how to use."

bee.boied: damn-

Fossabot: Orange_ subscribed with Twitch Prime! Their on a 5 month streak!

"Damn indeed but eh, his problem now. I do know I ain't messing with his valo and stuff, I swear he loves that shit more than me-" "Y/N." "Fuck-" "Seriously?! I know I told you that you could use my computer anytime you wanted but why the hell would you go live?!!." "Because why the fuck not? Plus you taught me how to use this shit." "Your lucky I love you." "That's gay." "Bitch."

im_notbean: we gonna ignore that orrrr....

Orange_: @ im_notbean we are

im_notbean: =|

"What? Your the one who's a bitch here." "How am I a bitch?" "Your acting like one Luke." "Aye." "Whatever." "Don't whatever me mister."

anons.379: anyone else enjoying the banter

i-love-karens: *Deleted Message*

Fossabot: @ i-love-karens please be nice in chat! Warning

itunes-slaphard: punzo and guest banter>>>>

"I will turn on the cam." "What would that do anyway?" "They get to see your neck?" "...Fuck you." "Already did." "That's gay." "I am though. So are you!?" "I'm bi. Their is a clear difference." "Bitch your still partly gay." "Shut up." "Also throw a fucking shirt on" "Oh piss off."

Orange_: anyone gonna clip this???

im_notbean: way ahead of you orange

Orange_: YIPPEE

Y/N looked at Luke who had thrown himself into the bed behind him and rolled the chair bsck towards him. He poked his cheek before he spun around and pulled the chair back to the desk before pressing the button to turn on the camera. Y/N blinked to adjust the brighness of the screen, he looked at chat reel quick and smiled as compliments flooded throughout the computer. He had challenged chat to see if they could guess who he was or what sport he played.

"Thank you Cristi for the 5 gifted and no, I don't play American Football...Baseball, no I used to play that." "Why can't I say anything thoughhhh." "Because you'll give away the answer :(" "Fine." "Thanl you Aprilz for the teir one...I don't play lacrosse either. Do you guys want a hint?"

im_notbean: PLEASEEEE

Orange: were beging here :((((

i-love-karens: 😭😭😭

Y/N laughed before giving a hint. "11 players and the feild is just a bit wider than an American football feild. I gave y'all some obvious ones here."

im_notbean: Soccer??

Orange_: soccer. were so dumb-

bee.boi: i feel stupid-

anons.379: bro...

"Luke is your chat saying their dumb normal-" "Sometimes but yeah, wait let me see."

Punz pulled himself from the bed and walked over to the chair and looked at chat, Punz snickered before looking bsck at his boyfriend and smiling. Y/N booped his nose, Punz looked at you confusion as he giggled. He booped his nose again.

"Boop!" "What are you doing??" "I'm booping you" "Huh..?" "You don't know what booping is?" "No, but the face when you do boop me is cute." "E-eh...that's kinda gay." "Uh- Bitch." "Whore." "Slut." "Fucktoy." "I am not a fucktoy." "You were last night." "I-Uh- Your gonna get me band on Twitch-" "Suffer." "Shut up." "Make me."

i-lovekat: wtf did i just join-

im_notbean: half of us dont even know either-

i-lovekat: fair

"Woah Y/N that's a little gay." "Motherfucker I am gay...for you ♡" "Uh- UMM...CHAT DON'T CLIP THAT." "Chat don't listen to him. Clip it." "Nooooooooo" "Ba-Luke...If you don't want them to it's fine by me, I'm just teasing." "Hmph." "Great...Chat this is your fucking fault."

Orange_: OI WHAT DID WE DO >:[

im_notbean: YEAH >:/

"You cliped that and now I'm getting the silent treatment! That sucks for me and you guys." "You can make it up to me." "I can! How!!" "Kiss me." "...What." "You heard me. Kiss-"

Y/N pulled Punz down and kissed his cheek. You could see Y/N say something but the mic didn't pick it up. All chat knew was that these two idols and idiots were in love.

Sorry this is so short :(

But I wanted to get something out because I got grounded lmao so yeah-

#Spotify #punz #punz x reader #punz x y/n #dream smp punz #punz x male reader #punz x you #dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #im-notbean #im-notbean writes

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chaseadrian · 2 years

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don’t sabotage the lightshow

Six years out of high school, you've carved your own little home and built your own little family at a dive in Chicago, a family of runaways and survivors, like you. But when the new band shows up, a familiar face brings back all memories of Hawkins you wanted to forget. Threatening the sanctity of what you've built, you find yourself wondering if it might be worth tearing down anyway. [SERIES MASTERLIST]

pairing. eddie munson x f!reader tags. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, original side characters, best friends to enemies, hate sex, reader smokes weed, mentions of drinking, semi-public sex, m receiving oral, vague references to traumatic past word count. 5.7k+ an. uh yeah i'm obsessed with this dude. this does take place in 1990, it's never explicitly said but just for clarity sake that's where we're at.

“Bandits surround you in the treasure room, prepared for a fight, but before anyone can draw their weapon, the corner of a stone pillar crumbles over Baron Hayes. Pebbles knock against your head, sending you stumbling into a shrine in the wall. The ground rumbles underneath you, and the bandits start falling one by one, a vibrant purple mist rushing in and out of their ears.

They die before they can scream, blood trickling out onto the floor. You look around at each other, nerves seizing as the mist bends around you. This couldn’t be your last moment, could it?”

You look around at the wide eyes in front of you, the grimaces and crossed fingers.

The room swells with silence, and Baron Hayes breaks it, his eyes leaving yours to stare across the table. He reaches out, “Lilian, my lady, if this is our last mome—”

“Silence!” You shout, deepening your voice, “A booming voice shouts, and the mist swirls between you, blossoming into a thick mushroom cloud before it takes corporeal form, ‘This will not be your last moment. You need not fear me.’ The figure before you has pallid skin, he is adorned with jewels and dark hair, and the mist that felled your enemies swirls from his waist down.”

“A djinn!” Lilian says, slapping the party member next to her.

You smile behind your binder, “I am indeed the djinn Wymark,’ he says, floating closer to the Baron, ‘You have freed me, Baron Hayes.’ He gestures to the shrine, where a fading porcelain vase lies broken over a pile of jewels. Wymark holds a closed fist over his chest, ‘I am indebted to fulfill any wishes you so seek until you have completed your journey.’

Wymark waves a hand over his body, appearing before you as a full human and brushing the riches away from the shrine, revealing it to be a throne. He takes a seat, ‘I cannot, however, leave the grounds of my palace. You may bind me once more to the vase, but if it shatters again—”

A loud knock outside the room interrupts the final moments of your session, and you glare down the table at Lilian.

“Iona.” Baron Hayes whines, letting his head fall back against his chair.

She holds a finger up, “Sorry, Griff! Must be the band for tonight. One second!”

You stare at the rest of your script, fingers tapping on the table as Iona rushes out the door. You can faintly hear her voice outside, “Hi fellas, and uh, gal! Come in, come in.”

She guides them into the office, “We’re just finishing up our little session. It’s nerdy, don’t mind us.”

You make a mental note to have Lady Lilian caught in a bear trap next session.

“We’re just missing your lead singer, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s just running behind.” You look up at the musician that spoke, and flick your gaze to the shaggy-haired one that flops down on the couch with a grumble, “Running behind with all our equipment.”

Iona waves a hand, “Oh people always shuffle in here late anyway.” She turns to your party, “Everyone, these are our new regulars—what’re you called again?”

“Corroded Coffin.”

A sting of familiarity plants itself in your brain, but you brush it off.

“Corroded Coffin, yes! This is Jeff, the guitarist, Gareth’s on the drums, Robin’s backup vocals, and of course, their incredible bassist—”

“Iona, can we wrap this up? They’re not going anywhere, right?” The party member next to her empty seat sits back, throwing a hand around the chair on his other side, his voice heavy with a Spanish accent, “Rin and Griff need to get the bar squared away because they forgot to do so last night.” He purses his lips, and pinches Rin’s shoulder.

Rin rolls their eyes and sets their head in their hand.

“Yes, Javi, fine.” She turns to the band, “Guys, these are the miscreants who keep The Kindling alive. Rin and Griffin, they’ll make you the strongest drinks at any club in Chicago. Our manager Javi here makes sure the place doesn’t get busted, and Selma will be the reason it goes down anyway.”

“That’s an ominous way of saying I photograph shit, Iona.” Selma says, “It’s true though, if you’re gonna do coke, do it in the bathroom.”

Gareth frowns at her, squinting his eyes. Robin looks between him and Selma, slack jawed, “I—is she for real?”

“Shush, Selma! No, she’s not. Nobody does coke in our bathrooms…they do it in the alley.” She laughs, “Anyway, last but not least is our amazing, super creative light tech slash DM—”

You interrupt her to offer your name, nodding at the band, “Nice to meet you.”

Jeff nods back, “Yeah, good to meet you all.” He sits down next to Gareth, pulling the bassist down with him. Robin looks behind her to see the couch full, and she sits on the edge of the wooden coffee table next to it.

Iona claps her hands together once more, “Oh, good, now that that’s over! Sorry, Lady Lilian present and accounted for. Where were we?” She sits back down, flattening her palms on the table.

You take a deep breath, “Wymark throws a leg over the other, ‘If my vase breaks once more I will be unable to accompany you, bound again to the palace until the enchantment that sent my castle to ruins is broken.’ It seems you have a choice before you now. Rid the Djinn of his enchantment, or risk taking him with you in a weak vessel?” You start shuffling your papers into a stack.

“But that is a question for next time.” The group groans together, and you smile as you shut your binder.

“Alright, alright, quit the whining. You guys are gonna want to really think on this one.”

The table starts picking up their figurines, dumping them into a small metal lunchbox and breaking the game board into four squares to fit alongside the pieces. You reach down into your bag and pull a half drunk water bottle out, downing it in one go, throat tired from affecting Wymark’s booming voice.

“You running a homebrew?” Gareth asks, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees.

He directs the question to you, but Griff answers, “Oh, yeah. She puts us through the ringer with the stories she comes up with. You guys play?”

Robin shakes her head while the boys nod.

“Not so much now,” Jeff says, “With college and the band and working to even afford to live in this city. But yeah, even had a club in high school.”

“Sick.” Rin says, “We’d only heard the basic shit about you know, cults and sacrifices and all that before she got us into it.” They gesture towards you.

Gareth scoffs, “Bullshit.”

“Total bullshit.” Iona nods, “But I kind of can’t believe they let you run a club like that in Indiana. Aren’t they all like, mormon over there?”

“You’re thinking of Utah.” Robin leans back on one hand, “Indiana’s evangelical.” She makes a cross in the air with her finger. Iona mouths an ‘ohh.’

“And anyway, screw that.” Gareth shifts to show the group a patch on his other arm, smiling. “We’re Hellfire through and through.”

Your friends laud its design, chattering about their own lack of branding—“Why don’t we have a cool name?” “Yeah, we should get patches.” “Yeah!”

You laugh and lean forward to get a better look.

You know that patch.

You drew that patch. Or at least, the first draft of it.

Without making a show of recognition, you nod in approval and sit back, “So, you guys are from Indiana?”

They nod, and Jeff rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately, yeah. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Oh, I-I know. I grew up in Hawkins.”

“No way, that’s where we’re from!” Robin says, laughing to herself, “Small world.”

You flash a wan smile and scan their faces, rifling through memory to try and place them at all.

No such luck, which is great. If you don’t recognize them, they don't recognize you—and if they do, they aren’t confident enough about it to say anything. You hold onto the hope that this is just a strange coincidence. They’re a band looking for their break, this is a city full of opportunity for such a thing.

That’s all.

But even the reminder of Hawkins has you mentally checking out from this conversation, and you stuff your binder into your bag, reaching a hand out to Iona, “I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Good to meet you guys.”

You raise a hand to the band and throw the bag around your back, clapping Javi on the shoulder and bumping Rin’s fist as you pass behind them.

Climbing the stairs, you shake your hands at your sides and press your nails into your palms, trying to push off memories of Hawkins. The group chatters downstairs, excited voices lamenting stories of past campaigns, fading the further up you go.

It’s silent on the balcony, and you flop down in the wheelie stool at your setup, sliders and buttons wired to the threadbare array of lights around the stage. You spin around, kicking off with the ball of your foot and circling until the wheels scoot you close enough to the controller table and you crash into it.

When your vision stills, you look down at the stage to see the band sitting on the edge of it, kicking their feet as Iona chatters excitedly. You can’t hear what she says, not until another figure walks into view and she claps her hands.

“Eddie!” She shouts, wrapping her arms around him. He pats her on the back with one hand, and you slide the chair over to the balcony’s ledge, holding out the last threads of hope that this isn’t the Eddie your mind immediately jumps to.

Iona points up at you and waves, and what was only a vague possibility to you twenty minutes ago is now a fully realized scene playing out in slow motion.

He looks up at you, the smile on his face fading as dread and disbelief fly through you.

You push on the ledge and roll back to the controller. You try to keep your leg from bouncing, try to regain some composure and still yourself, but it’s no use when you can hear the distinct tone of his voice downstairs. Inaudible as it is, you know the cadence well.

“Hey!” A voice from behind startles you in the seat, hands grabbing the edge of the control table to keep it from sliding out under you.

Selma strolls over, “You got the scrollers? They weren’t downstairs.”

You point to a bag on the floor next to the table, “Yeah, yeah.” You clear your throat, “Javi caught someone snooping around backstage last show, he brought ‘em up here. Hey, um, did you see the lead singer?”

Selma crouches over to rifle through the color lenses. She pops a finger up for every one, and smiles, looking up at you once she’s satisfied with the count, “I know. He’s legit, huh? He’s in my Visual Language class. I got Iona’s uncle his demo, they’re really—”

You hunch over close to her, lowering your voice, “Wait, wait. He goes to UChicago?”

“Oh come on, it’s not just prep school jockies going to these nice schools now, y’know?” She taps her knuckles against your knee, “Why, you into him?”

You push back in the chair, straightening your posture, “No! No…no I just. I went to high school with him.”

Selma stands up with the bag, “He’s from Hawkins, too? Color me surprised, I kinda thought the band picked him up on the side of the road somewhere.” She hums, “Him and Jeff kinda keep things close to the vest.”

“Trust me, Sel. He is just another drop in the ocean of that town. He looks different from the normies, but he’s…” You trail off, shaking your head to yourself.

“Hey,” Her voice softens, “Being reminded of home would shake any of us, and you know we got you no matter what, okay? Say the word and Javi kicks ‘em to the curb.”

She holds the bag in front of her, feet together, features empathetic.

You roll around in the chair, resting your back against the edge of the table and crossing your arms, “Yeah, no, I know, but…they’ll be good for the club. I’m alright, promise.”

Selma squints her eyes at you, “Swear?” She holds up a pinkie, and you laugh, wrapping your own pinkie around hers.

“Swear.”

“Good, now I gotta get these downstairs. Iona said purple, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” She mock salutes you at the top of the stairs, “Standby.”

You return the salute, and roll back over to the ledge, resting your forearms on the cold wood. You plop your chin down in your hands before letting it loll onto your arm, cheek squished as you watch Selma slide the scrollers onto each light.

The band is too busy setting up their equipment to notice you watching them, Eddie’s jacket tossed on an amp, wearing a plain black shirt with the sleeves rolled up as he unwraps cords and throws Gareth’s drumsticks at him with a smile. He’s broader now, more adult. The acne that you could see from space when he hit puberty was barely visible, if there at all.

He’s kept his long locks, though it looks like he learned how to take care of them. All waves and shine converse to the matte frizz you once knew.

You put your hands out in front of you, now trying to picture them as they were when you last saw him. Were there less wrinkles? Had they changed tone in the Chicago weather? Looking in the mirror each morning, you gave little thought to how you’d changed since high school. Maybe your smile lines were deeper now, maybe there was a little more hair in the sink each time you brushed it.

Nothing much made you care. Naught except the sudden presence of someone who knew that version of you. Knew you when you were shiny and brand new, a witness to the way life broke you in. The way it broke you both until you turned on each other.

The sharp feedback from the stage cuts you from your thoughts, and you watch everyone cringe as Jeff plugs his guitar into the large amp. Eddie sticks a finger in his ear and does the same. You exhale a laugh, watching Iona press her palms to either side of her head and walk away.

Selma shoots you a thumbs up from downstairs, and you roll back to the control table, hitting buttons and sliding tabs until you can see the stage lit up in purple. Neon violet lights against the black wall contrast with the overhead rig, constant in its white-yellow hue. Eddie hovers his hand above his face, blocking the blinding light and looking up at you.

You don’t know if he can see your head poking over the control table, but you shrink down anyway, shoulders jerking back in a quick spasm of nerves. You stand up to turn the stage lights off, shaking your hands at your side before flopping down on the couch. The ceiling light burns into your retina, and you throw a wrist over your eyes as the band starts warming up.

It’s a half-assed practice, and you can hear laughter after every missed note. Right now it’s not Eddie’s voice in the mic, but what you can only assume to be Robin’s. Raspy, understated, still sweet. She makes up choruses for every melody they come up with. They aren’t great, by any means, but there’s a smile in her voice. You’d much prefer hearing her over Eddie.

They cycle halfway through a couple songs, volume on the amps lowered, music echoing through the empty club. Closing your eyes, you try once more to push away all you can of Hawkins, of Eddie. The music helps, Robin’s voice not quite fit for metal, but she makes a passable attempt. You can understand how it might fit with Eddie’s in the overall ensemble, a soothing constant to grab onto behind the bashing of drums and intricate, electric riffs.

Your friends downstairs cheer for the band once the music stops, more excited chatter and the ‘clink’ of beer bottles.

You raise your head to the familiar pattern of footsteps, a prick of relief in your chest knowing it’s not Eddie.

“Here.” Javi throws you a water bottle before walking into the control booth at the back of the room. Radio metal starts playing out the speakers of the club, and you sit up to take a drink.

He rolls around the doorway, leaning against it and fiddling with the chain around his neck.

He has to yell over the music, “You good?��

“Mm, Javi, fine.” You lay back down, throwing a leg over the back of the couch and shooting him a thumbs up.

“Doors open in ten, so I’m locking the office. Keys—”

“Keys in the skull jar, thank you, I know.”

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“All good!” You pop the cap off the water and tilt a few droplets into your open mouth, sitting up when it dribbles onto your shirt.

You brush the water off and smile at him, “Really, just go do your job.”

“Tch, you do yours!” He rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head and feigning offense.

A wave of giddiness passes through your stomach, and you laugh at him as he points from his eyes to yours, “I’m watching you!” He goes down backward on the stairs, keeping his eyes on you until the stairwell blocks the view.

He slams the office door as he always does when you’re up there alone, his calling card to tell you the door is locked. That you’re safe. The Kindling isn’t the seediest of clubs in Chicago, but that wasn’t saying much.

Patrons shuffle in as expected, and you sit once more at the ledge of the balcony, staring at the empty stage. Strangers bump into strangers, drinks in hand, spilling over the rim and onto the forever sticky floor. You turn your wrist over, and trudge to the sound mixer, silencing the speaker music just as Iona takes the stage.

You plop back down in your stool, chin on your forearm, reaching lazily over to turn on a couple overhead lights flanking her.

“Helloooo!” She speaks into the microphone, curtsying a little when several patrons whistle at her.

“I won’t waste any time up here, you’re all really gonna like these guys. Let me be the first to introduce your new favorite local band: Corroded Coffin!” She claps, and as the band enters you raise the rest of the overhead rig, illuminating them as they take their places.

Eddie throws his guitar strap over his shoulders, and grabs the mic stand, the crowd buzzing in front of them, “Alright! Alright, I, uh,” He looks over at Robin with a smile, then to Jeff and the bassist at his other side, “I won’t waste your time either.”

“We’re Corroded Coffin, let’s go!” He kicks his foot against the floor as Jeff plays the first sting, and you slide up the power on the violet lights, the crowd matching Eddie’s immediate energy.

They’re good, better than you expected. You always knew Eddie to be talented, to have a future if he actually tried. As you predicted, Robin’s voice is a subtle mix-in with Eddie’s gruff tenor, but she has the same energy as the rest of them onstage. Where Eddie’s shredding at a mic stand, she’s dragging her wired microphone around, jumping in time to the music, her short bobbed hair flicking back and forth. She’s great, they’re great, and it shoots a sharp spiral of frustration through your side.

You sit there at the controller, flicking this light and that, the violet lights off during Jeff’s guitar solo, his figure just illuminated by the white overhead rig. Purple on Eddie when he has a solo, feet planted firm and intimidating as he sings into the mic, his gaze wiping over the crowd.

People in the audience reach out for him, a woman even drops out her tits when his eyes rake over her. Oh they like them, for sure, and by the smile on Eddie’s face, by Jeff’s wide eyes and Robin’s awkward, interrupting laugh into the microphone, they also like the attention. Even the quieter patrons on the sides are singing along to the covers they know, bobbing their heads to the originals they’ll come to learn.

He tilts his head up at you several times throughout the set, brief glances behind blinding stage lights. You hate that he knows you’re up there, hate having to watch his every move. You conduct these shows from an invisible seat, and that’s the way you like it, but you don’t feel invisible now. Every time he stares up towards you, it feels like he’s peeling off a new layer, skin and muscle and nerve until you’re down to the bone. He grins at the mic as though he knows this.

After a short half hour of adrenaline and bright lights and an audience shoving their way to the front, the band is dripping in sweat, hair clinging to their faces, jackets and flannels tossed to the side every other song until they’re in tank tops and t-shirts. Eddie raises a hand above the crowd, waiting for them to settle into a normal chatter.

“We are oh-so grateful for you tonight,” He grins, “How about one last song, huh?”

They roar in front of him, and he laughs into the mic, “Now this just came out last month, so we will forgive you if you don’t know it yet,” Eddie slides his hand up the neck of his guitar and back down, “But you’re gonna learn.”

With that, the crowd returns to its previous state, and Eddie stares up at you behind the lights as he sings. You slide over to the ledge and look back; if he can’t see you he’s doing a convincing job pretending otherwise.

—reduction is addictive too

Personality overview

I can see what the cost will be

He wraps a hand around the microphone, bringing his lips right up to it.

You know I don't need you

I just can't Put You Down

I can see what it all means to me

Honey I don't need you

I just can't Put You Down

Frustration boils in your stomach once more, and you storm down the steps to the club’s breaker box and flick off the main switch. The lights shut off, the crowd shouting their disappointment as you grab the keys from the jar and rush outside.

“Sorry, everyone! Must’ve tripp—” Is all you can hear from Iona onstage before the metal door slams shut.

You pull a blunt and lighter from the pocket of your flannel, shaky hand bringing it to your lips. It does little to cool the all over fury you feel rattling your body. Frigid air nips at your wrists, at your neck. The cold seems to come earlier every year in Illinois, wind chill reaching you now at the tail end of summer.

You stand there in the dark alcove, a little space with trash cans and a pile of cigarette butts mostly blocked off from the rest of the world. You burn down the blunt until you feel it calming your mind. A calm that’s short lived before the metal door across from you opens, and Eddie strolls out, kicking a nearby brick up against the door to prop it open. You can hear the music inside, the loud chatter.

He nods at you, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

You scoff and start moving further into the alcove, but he follows you.

“Weird thing, the circuit breaker.” He slides a cigarette from the pack, and walks over to you, holding the end of it up to the blunt in your hand until it catches. “You’d think…place like this? Wouldn’t get overloaded so easily.”

“You’d think.”

“Alright, cut the shit.” He raises his eyebrows and smiles, but there’s no friendliness there. He shrugs, “Why’d you do it.”

You scoff, “Really gotta ask that?” Bringing the blunt to your lips, you take another long drag and blow it into his face.

“Yeah,” He nods, “Yeah, I do. Because if you wanted to fuck up the show, you would’ve done it way earlier.”

You kick at your heel with the toe of your boots, “Didn’t like you looking at me like that.”

“I’m looking at you now.”

“Yeah, and I don’t like it. So if you could fuck off, that’d be great.”

You flick the cigarette out of his mouth.

Eddie smashes it with the toe of his sneakers, “Come on, you really mad at me because we fell out?” He licks his thumb and forefinger, snuffing out the end of your blunt and pulling it from your mouth to toss in the trash. “It’s been what, six years? People move on.”

You swallow hard, brows knitting together, “Yeah, and I have my own shit now. My own shit that I’m not gonna let you take from me.”

He laughs at you, “You’re still on that Hellfire bullshit? It was my club!”

“It was ours, Eddie, ours!” You knock your hand against the side of the trash can.

The year flashes through your brain in a matter of seconds. The rescheduled sessions, half-assed apologies, A’s on your report card and F’s on Eddie’s. The deeper into senior year you got, the more he pulled away. The acceptance letter in your mailbox filled your stomach with more dread than excitement, but when Eddie found out, you suddenly couldn’t wait to leave.

“It was ours, and you cut me out.”

“Fuck, whatever, what’s done is done, right?” He throws his hands up, and pulls at the hem of his shirt, wiping the sweat off his face.

Your gaze drops to his waist, to the faintly toned muscle of his abdomen, taut, pale scars covering his skin. Your stomach lurches, hot and angry and tightening as he wipes the sweat from his brow. The tendons in his hands flex, and your eyes pause on each ringed finger, on the callouses at his fingertips.

He smashes his bangs up against his hairline, revealing a little spattering of acne on the skin. You smile to yourself.

Resetting your composure, you press a finger into his shoulder, catching the edge of his collarbone, “You guys wanna play your shitty little covers, feel free, but stay away from me, okay? And Corroded Coffin, really? You stuck with that stupid name from middle school?”

“And? What’s wrong with it?”

“Come on, Ed, Corrosion of Conformity isn’t that underground. And even that name is shit.”

“We had that name first.”

You look down and shrug, “Yeah, well. What do I know, anyway. Leaving Hawkins is the only good idea I’ve ever had, right?”

Eddie’s first acknowledgement of everything you created together lights you up once more with anger, your stomach knotting further.

He just stands there, and it deepens your fury.

“Huh?” You push him backwards. He takes a step back and slaps your hand away, jaw clenching.

You want to push him until he breaks.

“Right, Eddie?” Another shove, his heels just about connecting with the wall, and he wraps a hand around your bicep to keep you from shoving him again.. You smile and exhale a laugh, “Leaving Hawkins, leaving you, was the best idea I’ve ever had.”

He grabs the back of your hair and forces your head away from him.

Smelling like smoke and sweat, the wet hem of his shirt clings to the exposed strip of your stomach. He tugs your head back more, baring your throat, his eyes flicking to your lips and back. He swallows hard, “Yeah. It was.”

Letting out a choked laugh, you squint your eyes at him, “Well, I had to. My life was going somewhere.”

“Fuck you.” He whispers.

“You did, Ed. Remember?” Smile still on your lips, voice low and hard, “Or is that why you’ve been staring at me all night?”

You stand on your tiptoes, your nose grazing his, “Forgot I was the first notch on your belt? Wanted to check it off before you tear through Chicago, for old times sake?”

Eddie stands there staring, tightened grip in your hair, fingers pressing harder into your bicep. His breath hits your lips, hot and languid and shaking. You grab a fistful of his shirt, his chest rising and falling underneath your knuckles while he tries to steady his breathing.

“C’mon then, Ed,” You say, “Fucking take what you want.” You spit, bringing your lips to his. You leave them hovering too close for comfort, his cupid’s bow brushing against your bottom lip. He tilts his head up, just shy of a real kiss, a stone’s throw from giving in.

He pauses, and you whisper against his mouth, “Take what you want, or let me go.”

Several thick, silent seconds pass before his grip falters, big brown eyes shiny with reflected moonlight, and you step back from him.

Turning to go back inside, you mutter to yourself, “I knew you wouldn’t. Fucking coward.”

Eddie’s sneakers slide over the littered pavement, and he yanks you back just as you’re reaching for the door, “Don’t ever call me that.” His voice is rough, like there’s gravel in his throat, and his eyes burn into you when he speaks.

You hide the smile on your face and force away the excitement in your chest as he pushes you up against the brick wall. You got him; whatever bullshit tough guy act he puts on now is a front for the boy who’s always been wrapped around your finger. He fumbles with his belt while his teeth sink into your neck, and you swat his hands away when they try to undo your jeans. They come back hard on your hips, shoving you into the wall, and he yanks down the jeans.

The cold air has little opportunity to make its way between your bodies before he’s grinding himself into you, a hand coming up tight over your mouth. There’s scarce warm-up for either of you, all crude language and his teeth on your neck.

The sweaty shelf of his pelvis ruts against you, sparking the nerves of your clit, a wash of arousal building in your belly. You’d never give him the verbal satisfaction of knowing you like any of this. Love when the head of his cock pushes you open, stretching your walls with hard, fast pumps.

Before the pressure on your clit and in your stomach climbs to the point of overwhelming, Eddie spins you around, fucking you from behind, his hand squeezing your jaw until it hurts.

He fills you so entirely, but you bat away the urge to reach behind you and grab the backs of his thighs. Resist the incessant, nagging thought of your hands on his ass, pushing him into you.

Instead, you focus on digging your knuckles into the wall, the sharp sting of old brick against your skin. The top layer will be flaked and scabbing tomorrow, but it’s worth it to keep your composure. Keep him from knowing how close you are, how the harsh thrust of his cock hits you right where you need it, vitriol and hate and history just added fuel to the fire in your chest.

You open your palms on the wall, pushing into him on the edge of your orgasm. It crests as he pulls out and you’re overwhelmed by the sudden anger you feel with his eyes on you, watching you lose yourself like this. He shifts his hand on your mouth, and you bite down onto his forefinger, expecting him to yank it away. It’s a surprise that he doesn’t, that he instead grabs you by your jaw and spins you around, fingers squeezing your cheeks.

He presses one hard kiss to your open mouth, lips tasting of smoke and beer. He spits onto your tongue and pushes you down to your knees, sliding between your lips.

You drag your teeth over his shaft, staring up at him, watching pain and frustration flash over his features before he pulls hard on your hair. You concede this once, concede because he’s put himself at your mercy, given you the power. Because the man you hate has a body you love, and fuck if you won’t use it to fill your needs.

Despite this, you refuse to work for him the way you would for anyone else. You’re lazy with your lips, careless with your teeth; you keep your tongue flat and motionless under his length.

With mounting frustration and an orgasm just out of reach, Eddie starts pushing into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, pioneering a concentrated effort to make you gag.

This is another satisfaction you won’t give him, all focus dedicated to opening your throat.

It’s a success short lived when you feel his orgasm pumping over your tongue. You’d intended to spit it back at him—swallowing would be a courtesy he didn’t deserve—but you’re slow on the uptake, and before you can register how his hips jerk and his breath grows heavy, he’s pulled out.

You spit at his feet anyway, wiping your mouth and staring at him as he tugs his jeans up.

He grabs another cigarette from the pack.

Yanking the handkerchief from his back pocket, you stand up and swipe it between your legs before throwing it in the trash.

Eddie tries to catch it mid-air and fails, the glare he sends your way could burn a hole in you if you cared.

“Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other,” He says.

Fixing your jeans, you pull the keys from your jacket pocket and grab the edge of the door, kicking the brick he’d set out of the way, “Unfortunately.”

You slap a hand against the red ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on the outside of the door and slam it shut.

#eddie munson/you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #my writing #mine #live wire

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