#turnstile metal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

my-chemical-wheaties · 1 year ago

Text

Albums That I Listened to in December 2023

One of my New Year's resolutions is to engage with more media, including, but not limited to, more albums. As a result, I've decided to start doing this series of posts where I talk about all of the albums that I listened to in the past month and give the internet my thoughts.

In this last month (December 2023), I listened to twelve different albums all the way through from start to finish. They come from a fairly wide variety of genres, but the main theme of this particular collection seems to be albums by more "indie" artists.

In order from first listened to to last listened to, these albums were:

Glow On - Turnstile (2021)

Blue Weekend - Wolf Alice (2021)

Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard - Lana Del Rey (2023)

Infest the Rat's Nest - King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (2019)

Congratulations - MGMT (2010)

Boxer - The National (2007)

The Crane Wife - The Decemberists (2006)

Picaresque - The Decemberists (2005)

Angels Without Wings - Heidi Talbot (2013)

Cerulean Salt - Waxahatchee (2013)

The Crook of My Arm - Alasdair Roberts (2001)

Pink Moon - Nick Drake (1972)

If I were to rate and rank these albums, it would look like this:

The Crane Wife - I am an absolute sucker for baroque, folksy-sounding rock music and this album scratches the itch for me so well. As someone who also takes an interest in theatre, literature, and a little bit of mythology and folklore, I also thought it was really interesting how The Decemberists weave their retellings of the eponymous Japanese folktale and Shakespeare's The Tempest into the instrumentation and lyrics of the different tracks. Even better, these songs are great as standalones, too. I will probably be coming back to this one. 8/10

Picaresque - Like I said in the section on the other Decemberists album I listened to, The Crane Wife, I love baroque rock music and this album scratches that itch just as well. I don't remember it as well as some of the other albums on this list, but I have a suspicion that I will be giving it a few more listens and that I will likely view it as better than The Crane Wife by the end of the year. Each song is like its own short story and I find the ways in which Colin Meloy crafts these vignettes interesting. 8/10

Glow On - This album is infectiously fun and some of the songs on here are super catchy. I love how Turnstile incorporate elements of dream pop, shoegaze, and even a little bit of dance rock and funk into the hardcore sound they are already known for. I've found myself coming back to this album a lot and I am interested to see what else this band has in their discography. 8/10

Pink Moon - This album is considered a classic for a reason. The tracks consist of some really beautiful acoustic guitar-driven rock songs that have almost a folk or country edge to them. On top of that, Nick's singing voice complements the guitar well and creates an intimate sonic environment, as if he is playing these songs in the same room as you (Especially if you're listening with headphones or earbuds). It's also a surprisingly short album, so give it a listen if you haven't yet. 9/10

Blue Weekend - I had heard a few songs from this album like Smile and Lipstick on the Glass before, so I decided to give the whole album a listen. For the most part, the tracks are a lot slower and softer than I was anticipating, but this isn't a bad thing at all - they still sound good. I love frontwoman Ellie Rowsell's singing voice, it complements the instrumentation really well. This album sounds like driving through a city at night during the Summer. 8/10

Congratulations - I've noticed that I like to gravitate towards more experimental albums, and this is definitely on the more experimental side. This is probably my favorite MGMT album that I've listened to so far, and it slightly makes me hope that their upcoming album will be experimental, too. It's Working, Flash Delirium, and Siberian Breaks are my favorite tracks. 8/10

Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard - The amount of critical praise I have seen for this album is bounteous, to the point where I felt like I had to listen to this album to see why people love it so much. The songs on this album have some beautiful piano, and Lana's reflections on her family, death, religion, her career, and even herself as a person are intriguing to listen to. I feel like I need to give this album a few more chances, though, because it is extremely long and the sheer length of this album kind of wore me out when I listened to it in one sitting. 8/10, but there is a possibility that it will go up to 9/10.

Infest the Rat's Nest - I have never listened to a King Gizzard album before and there are so many that I have absolutely no idea where to start, so I just picked the one that I thought had the most interesting album art. The concept of doing a metal album of which the storyline takes place in space gave me lowkey Ziltoid the Omniscient by Devin Townsend vibes, which is a good thing coming from me because I love Devin's work. I might give this a few more listens. 7/10

The Crook of My Arm - This was the second folk album that I listened to this past month and I thought it was neat. Sometimes the stripped back acoustic guitar instrumentation gets a little repetitive, but it was a pleasant listen nonetheless. Alasdair's lyricism on this album reminds me of Joanna Newsom. 6/10

Boxer - The National seem like pretty chill, wholesome people, and this album is pretty good, but I cannot remember how any of the tracks go besides Mistaken for Strangers because they all kind of blend into each other as you go through. 6/10

Cerulean Salt - I decided to check out this album because I've never listened to Waxahatchee before and knowing my music taste, I feel like she is an artist that I should have listened to by now. I kind of want to put this list higher in my ranking, but there are a lot of other albums that I liked more this past month and it feels weird putting this above Boxer. It's a decent album and there are a few tracks that I enjoy, but I think I just enjoyed a few other albums more than this. 7/10

Angels Without Wings - I love folk music and I don't want to put down a fairly small artist like this, but I have to admit that this one was disappointing to listen to. Most of the songs on here are mid and over the course of this album, start to sound like the same song being played over and over again. Heidi seems like she's a talented musician and if other people like it, that's fine, but it was just kind of a meh album to me. 4/10

If you have any suggestions for albums that I should listen to this month, feel free to comment below. I'm planning to do this for at least a year. :)

1 note · View note

rssecurityswingturnstile · 1 year ago

Text

1: dc motor speed turnstiles barriers

dc motor speedlane turnstiles barrier is a common door type, which generally includes door frames, door leaves, door manages and locks. Door frames are normally made of steel plates or wood boards, and door leaves are made of cardboard, plastic plates or glass plates. The door deal with is a device that pulls or pushes the door leaf open, and the lock is a device that avoids the door leaf from falling out of the door frame. There are normally two ways to open a door, one is to pull the door and the other is to push the door. The moving door is opened by the door handle pulling the door leaf far from the door frame, while the moving door is opened by the door manage pressing the door leaf far from the door frame.

2: dc brushless swing barriers doors

dc brushless swing barrier gates and dc motor speed turntsile barrier In comparison, train flap barriers gates is designed to obstruct water circulation through its horizontal position. In contrast, dc brushless wing turnstiles gates just manages the flow of water by changing the vertical position of eviction. subway flap barriers Eviction of gates is made up of 2 gates that can be moved horizontally to manage the flow of water. servo motor wing barriers Eviction of doors is made up of a gate that can manage the flow of water by moving vertically.

3: train flap barriers gates

train flap barrier gates, likewise referred to as movable gate, is a flood discharge facility that avoids the water level from being too expensive or too low. When the water level rises to the set worth, subway flap turnstiles gates will automatically open. When the water level drops to the set worth, subway flap barrier doors The door will close automatically. subway flap turnstile gate utilizes a water level sensor to keep an eye on water level changes and manages the opening or closing of the gate to accomplish the function of immediately controlling the water level.

4: What's the difference?

servo motor swing barrier gate generally describes closing eviction, while dc brushless fastlane turnstiles barriers describes opening the gate. train flap barrier doors and servo motor wing turnstiles gates is different from servo motor speed turntsile barrier. It is a gate installed on the water. And servo motor swing barriers gates and dc brushless speed turntsile barrier are gates installed on the wall.

#swing gate turnstile #speedlane turnstile #Walk Through Metal Detector #Metal Detector Gate #Gate Barrier Rfid #Parking Blocker #Automaticparking Lock #Facial Recognition Camera

0 notes

szrssecurityswingturnstile · 1 year ago

Text

dc brushless speed turnstile barrier also called gain access to swing barriers door, which comes from the gain access to control system, is among the essential parts of contemporary entryway and exit control. The door wings are driven by the control system and open and close immediately. The operating mode can be chosen through programming settings: As soon as it is verified that the individual entering is authorized, the door wings open automatically. It closes after a hold-up, and the delay time is adjustable. Typical dc brushless speed turnstile barrier are divided into scissor doors (train flap gates door) and swing doors. (1) Scissor doors are typically used in rail transit, and common scissor doors are primarily utilized in trains and other places. The door wings extend from the within the box, which can efficiently seal the passage and play the function of gain access to control. In addition, an infrared sensing device is set up inside the door body, which can recognize the purpose of "a single person, one card" for people to pass through. (2) The swing door appeared behind the scissor door and belongs to the 2nd generation dc brushless speed turnstiles barrier. Such servo motor speedlane turnstile door is that the door wings run in the front and back direction. The operation process is within the human body's line of vision, which is more secure. In addition, because the door wings do not require to be withdrawed into the box, The styles of swing doors are more different. Due to the above characteristics, swing doors are normally utilized in banks, corporate structures, high-end office buildings, and so on. Anti-trailing function: There is a total infrared light band detection location in the channel. The switch state can be changed by software according to the consumer's accuracy requirements. The application of the light band to adjust to different requirements avoids the shortcomings of point-type infrared detectors that are easily contaminated and affects the dependability of judgment, and can effectively judge the future. Tag reader who checks out the card. When the system figures out that tailgating has actually occurred, the system will react based on the area of the legitimate cardholder returned by the infrared detector. After the door opening signal is sent out, there are still some unusual uses that will activate an alarm.

#swing turnstile barrier #ada turnstile #old turnstile gate #turnstile control #turnstile with metal detector #tripod turnstile access control system #rotating barrier

0 notes

tripodturnstile · 1 year ago

Text

three arms turnstiles barrier from RS Security Co., Ltd(www.szrssecurity.com) Ideal for all types of public places that require organized passage of pedestrians, such as scenic spots, exhibition halls, movie theaters, docks, train stations, bus stations and other locations that require ticket verification; places that need authorized entry such as factory presence, canteen intake, golf courses, monthly card leisure centers, and so on; anti-static control areas of electronic factories, systems that require rigorous security procedures such as face acknowledgment and finger print recognition. RS Security Co., Ltd primarily produces, establishes and sells gain access to control items, such as tripod turnstiles barrier, subway flap turnstiles barrier, dc brushless swing gates gate, translation gates barrier, one arm turnstiles door, full body gates gate, half height turnstile gate, fastlane turnstile barrier and other channel turnstiles barrier products, and traffic barrier, acknowledgment video camera, rising bollard, road bocker three arms turnstile door Integrated electronic tickets, gain access to control and participation, club consumption/catering, anti-static, finger print, palm print, face recognition, iris recognition Integrated application of other series of products; full stainless steel frame structure, Taibang motor, independently established and produced movement; one-way/two-way turnstile door/ swipe to release the lever button and the upper lever is optional, with Counting function can recognize RS485 direct interaction with the computer system; three rollers turnstile gate prompts and direction and alarm prompts; automated fall of the pole when power is off and manual fall The pole is optional, and it receives the switch signal to open turnstile door; it can be equipped with a card reading control part, and multiple systems can be connected to the network; it can be equipped with magnetic card and proximity card combination techniques; it can be ordered according to different functional requirements. Do. A fully rainproof box made from alloy aluminum or stainless-steel, compared to the city flap turnstiles door servo motor swing turnstiles barrier and other pedestrian passage devices, three rollers turnstile door are more economical. It has a personalized installation interface (such as card reader, sign light setup, etc) to ensure that the system integrator's control turnstile door devices is easy and practical to install. The movement of the three-stick gates door machine has an automatically adjusted hydraulic shock absorber. When using the three-stick gates door operation, the noise is really small and quiet. Effect, turnstiles gate bar instantly slows down back to center. The surface of the movement is plated with yellow dichromate. Can be programmed with turnstile gate machine control, a couple of instructions control (set by user). The base is fixed with growth bolts.

#face recognition waist height turnstile #optical swing turnstile #glass turnstile #metal turnstile #turnstile counting system #used turnstiles for sale #fingerprint scanner turnstile

0 notes

childrenofcain-if · 2 months ago

Note

The D scenario was way too sad, author, I'm begging for you to make it up for our sad rockstar cowboy/cowgirl 😭👺

here’s the pt. 1 of this.

the phone call ended with a terrible finality. the sound of D’s voice cutting off mid-sentence felt like a door slamming shut, loud and unmistakable.

you stood in your new york city apartment, one hand still gripping the phone, the other clenched at your side. your heart was racing, every beat a thud of regret, anger, and guilt. the city hummed outside your window, a discordant symphony of car horns and distant chatter, but you barely noticed it. all you could hear was D’s voice echoing in your head, sharp and raw: “i’m here, waiting by the damn phone every night like some—some pathetic—”

you ran a hand through your hair, pulling at the roots as you began pacing back and forth across the narrow strip of space between the kitchenette and the window. the floorboards creaked under your weight, an old building’s way of reminding you it was there, but it couldn’t anchor you.

“what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice harsh in the quiet room.

your anger had already started to unravel, leaving only the jagged edges of shame. you replayed the conversation in your head, your own voice rising, defensive and cold. and then D’s, breaking apart in places they hadn’t meant to let you hear.

D wasn’t needy. not really. at least not to you. they were just... D. passionate, fiery, always a little too much and never quite enough, all at the same time. and you—you were a mess in your own way, carrying your ambitions like armor and forgetting, sometimes, to reach out from behind it.

you slumped onto the couch, your elbows on your knees, your head in your hands. this wasn’t who you wanted to be. this wasn’t the kind of partner you wanted to be.

after what felt like hours, you finally sat back, exhaling shakily. the truth was as clear as it was painful: you’d both been wrong. neither of you was handling this well. the distance, the texts, the calls—it was a pressure cooker, and tonight it had finally boiled over.

but you loved D. that thought settled over you like a weight and a balm all at once. you loved them, and love meant showing up, not just when it was convenient, but especially when it wasn’t.

you grabbed your phone, fingers flying over the screen as you pulled up flight options. austin. friday night. it wasn’t exactly cheap, but money wasn’t an issue. you booked the ticket before you could overthink it, the confirmation email lighting up your inbox a second later.

***

the week passed in a haze of classes and half-hearted meals. every time your phone buzzed, your stomach twisted, but the messages were always mundane. updates from classmates, a sale alert from your favorite store. nothing from D.

by the time friday rolled around, you were vibrating with nerves. your luggage was packed and sitting by the door. you made sure your phone was fully charged, and set your alarm two hours earlier than necessary. you checked on your luggage three times before finally locking it and hauling it out of the apartment.

the subway station was crowded, the air thick with the smell of metal and sweat. you stood with one hand on your phone, your other clutching your bag, eyes darting to the mytransit nyc app and the digital displays above to make sure you don’t miss the subway leaving for the airport. five more minutes to go.

and then you saw them.

at first, it didn’t register. just another figure in the sea of commuters near the turnstiles, fumbling with a yellow metrocard at the machine. but then they turned, and your heart stopped.

they looked different here, out-of-place but somehow not. the edges of their leather jacket were fraying, and their doc martens were scuffed, a sharp contrast to the polished shoes and sleek coats of the people bustling around them. but their eyes—those stormy gray eyes you could pick out in a crowd of thousands—were unmistakable.

D saw you at the same moment.

for a second, neither of you moved. the station swirled around you, a blur of noise and movement, but it might as well have been silent.

then, like magnets, you were drawn together. you barely registered your feet moving, barely noticed the way people swerved to avoid you. and then you were there, your arms around D, their arms around you, and it was everything.

the kiss was messy, desperate, and entirely too public. you could feel D’s hands shaking where they gripped your shoulders, could taste the salt of what might have been tears.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, you were both laughing breathlessly.

“w-what are you doing here?” you asked, the words tumbling out between shaky breaths.

D gave a sheepish smile, one hand rubbing at the back of their neck.

“i was coming to see you. i couldn’t—” their voice caught, and they shook their head, trying again. “i couldn’t stand it. i couldn’t stand being apart anymore.”

“i was on my way to the airport,” you said, still holding onto them like they might vanish if you let go. “i booked a flight to austin. i was coming to apologize. to fix this.”

D’s arms tightened around you, their eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“you don’t need to apologize,” they said, their voice low and rough. “i’m the one who... god, i’ve been a mess without you. i keep overthinking everything, and then i get scared, and then i just—” they broke off, exhaling shakily. “i love you so much, and i’m sorry. for all of it.”

“i love you and i’m sorry too,” you said, reaching up to cup their face. their skin was warm under your palms and the familiar scent of expensive marlboros, leather and cinnamon made your head spin pleasantly. “i should’ve called more. i should’ve—”

“stop,” D interrupted, shaking their head. “we’re both idiots. let’s just agree on that and call it even.”

you laughed, a wet, shaky laugh that felt more like relief than humor. “deal.”

a few people were giving you strange looks as they looked over you two, but you both ignored them. one older woman smiled as she passed, muttering something about young love.

you took D’s hand, threading your fingers through theirs.

“come on,” you said, a grin breaking through the tears. “i can’t wait to show you around the city.”

D huffed a laugh. “don’t know if i’m gonna like it too much,” they said, but their eyes were soft, and their grip on your hand was firm.

“you’ll like it,” you promised. “i’ll make sure of it.”

D glanced at you, their gray eyes soft and full of something that made your chest feel too small.

“maybe,” they said. “but even if i don’t... i’ve already found you here, that alone makes the city tolerable in my book.”

#D never beating the clingy simp allegations when they’re dating MC #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro: d diaconu #ro scenarios

180 notes · View notes

peterparkouryo · 6 months ago

Text

fell from the sky into my lap | ⍣ ೋ

⍣ ೋ

prompt; You encounter a very charming boy on the train.

warning: fluff, fluff, and did i mention fluff?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: meet cute!! i missed writing <3 (also ignore the fact that i used this gif once b4, feel free to send me tom gifs for future fics 😭)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

You step out of Midtown High, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. You had decided to stay after school, opting to have a small study session with a few of your friends for an upcoming test for the gruesome mathematics class, also known as calculus. The weight of your backpack pulls slightly at your shoulders as you make your way down the stairs of the school building, balmy wind blusters against your skin. Descending down the stairs finally, you keep your head down and walk across the football field, creating a safe distance between you and the ongoing practice taking place.

What seemed forever, but in reality was maybe a good two to three minute walk off the school grounds, you head toward the train station. The familiar hum of chatter and the rhythmic clack of shoes on the sidewalk fill the air, blending into a comforting soundtrack of the end of the school day.

As you approach the station, the distant sound of a train horn echoes, signalling its arrival. Just in time, you thought to yourself. You quicken your pace, the excitement of heading home, mixed with the anticipation of the journey itself, propelling you forward. The station is a bustling hub of activity, with students, commuters, and travelers weaving in and out of the crowd.

You swipe your transit card at the turnstile, the beep granting you passage onto the platform. The cool, metallic scent of the train station mingles with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You glance up at the electronic display board, noting the arrival time of your train. It's right on schedule.

The train glides into the station with a soft hiss of brakes and a rush of wind. The doors slide open, inviting you inside. You step onto the train, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the warmth outside. You find a seat by the window and settle in, reaching into your backpack and digging through to find your wired headphones, despite begging your parents for regular ones.

You open your phone, clicking the green app for music, scrolling through many playlists you've obsessively created for various different scenarios. Picking a playlist you don't remember creating, you let out a tired yawn and sit back, wandering your eyes to the left, and daydreaming about your bed.

The train ride was relatively quiet, aside from a crying baby (not that you could hear it, but breaking your daydream to observe your surroundings, you could see a crying baby), and the loud music blasting in your ears.

For the next six minutes, the music from your headphones consumed your ears, guaranteed to worsen your hearing in the next twenty years or so. You were at an unusual ease you normally don't feel when you're alone on a train by yourself. It could do with the fact that there was maybe five or six people onboard, you weren't too sure.

You lay your head back against the seat and stare out the window, the passing buildings rapidly leaving your vision. A bored sigh leaves your lips, the spotify ad only adding onto the exhaustion you felt.

The train stops, indicating people were either leaving or stepping on the train, and you tear your gaze away from the window out of curiosity, watching a couple people swipe their transit cards. You notice the last person, a boy with hair as brown as a bear, swipe his card more than once, and you can only assume something was wrong.

The more you watch the boy struggle, the more you feel bad because not only was the operator getting impatient, the passengers moan and groan as well. Slowly you dig into your pocket for your card, standing up and swiftly walking to the front of the train. Showing the boy a friendly smile, you glance at the operator, who's eyebrows were furrowed and a permanent frown carved onto his face.

"Um, he can use my card." You say unsurely, not entirely positive thats even how transit cards work.

The man narrows his eyes and stares between you and the boy for a good while before he exhales a huff.

"Go ahead, you're holding up my line." He mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance behind you, seeing that it was only the boy and no one else, but you decide not to say anything about it.

You swipe the transit card, watching the red dot change to green, and the boy sighs in relief.

"Thank you." He says, watching your every move as you put your card back into your pocket.

You nod and your eyes drift to his face, studying him carefully, because boy, he was gorgeous. The boy had eyes just as brown as his hair, maybe even a little lighter with the golden specks straggling within them. If anyone was lucky (such as yourself) to stand so close to him, one might be able to see the small barely visible, but undeniably delightful freckles scattered across his nose.

Your eyes trail down to his lips, but not in a weird way, the small smile etched on his face captivated you and deep in your stomach, you swore you felt butterflies erupt. The smile was warm and inviting, and one of his most endearing features, capable of lighting up his entire face. It gave him a friendly, yet approachable demeanour.

He was the kind of person who had the-boy-next-door kind of vibe, and you can't help but gaze longer than intended, making him uncomfortable in a way you had no intentions of doing.

So, you clear your throat, and quickly look at your shoes.

"Its no problem." You mutter.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

That challenge, however quickly crashes when you glance at him only to see him gazing back, in a way that wasn't entirely creepy, but cumbersome for the both of you. You do your best to show him a smile, cringing slightly when you realize its more of a nervous grimace than what you intended.

Though, he shows no signs of being weirded out by your so called "smile", he waves as you wave back. A rush of warmth and pleasantry overtakes you when he looks away. You'd think this is the first time any boy has ever showed you this much attention, no matter how little it might have been.

Minutes pass in a blur as the train carries you forward, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Ultimately, you reach your stop and you gather your things, albeit a bit reluctantly. As you leave, you bite your lower lip and share a scrutiny when you walk past him, making your exit off the train.

While you step off the train, and make it your mission to ascend up the stairs, a hand purchases on your shoulder causing you to flinch fearfully, many thoughts running through your head as you make the stupid decision to turn around to face the culprit.

All fears subside once you meet the familiar chestnut brown eyes of the boy from the train.

He realizes your initial fear and holds up your tangled headphones. "You left these on the train." He blinks.

"Thank you." You obligate, retrieving the headphones from his hand.

The boy nods and buries his hands in his pocket, unwieldy looking around.

You tilt your head as a thought comes about.

"Is this your stop?" You wonder.

He breaks his train of thought and stares right at you before laughing awkwardly. "Um, no my stop was actually three more blocks away." He informs and guilt fills you at that information.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You apologize, frowning.

He shakes his head quickly.

"No, its fine I was just going to stop at Delmar's anyway." He reassures and smiles, holding out his hand.

"Also, I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker."

You return the smile and shake Peter's hand at his dorky introduction, speaking your name in greeting.

"I know, we share a gym class." Peter says.

You blink at the revelation, having no idea he even went to Midtown. Small world, you think.

"Anyway, is it okay if I walk you up the stairs, in a non weird way that seems creepy." Peter offers shyly, interrupting the barely there silence. There was something about his adorably dunce proposal that made you appreciate him despite only knowing the boy for ten minutes at most.

"Sure." You agree all too eagerly.

With new found courage, you and Peter make your way up the stairs of the train station and you're greeted with the bustling New York city, of what you can only describe as chaotic, honking cars and fellow civilians either on their arguing or arguing on their phones.

You felt excited to be walking next to Peter, no matter how small your interactions have been or how little you two new each other, you were grateful for his presence.

Grateful that you decided to take the train. Had you would've walked, only god knows what could've happened, the foreign feeling of butterflies in your stomach would not had been, that's for certain.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog

shoutout to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff

227 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 10 months ago

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway.

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it.

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too.

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then.

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried.

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change.

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang.

Trust I seek and I find in you

Every day for us something new

Open mind for a different view

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work.

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original.

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar.

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground.

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart

Forever trusting who we are

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case.

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords.

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt.

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to.

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question.

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.”

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity.

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since.

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips.

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money.

Fuck it.

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight.

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide.

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it.

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles.

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you.

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless.

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone.

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?”

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride.

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours.

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?”

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed.

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours.

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.”

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station.

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped.

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo.

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags.

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up.

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters.

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over.

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind.

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in.

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life.

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket.

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it.

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him.

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son.

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened.

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours.

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer.

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water.

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp.

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke.

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you.

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks.

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation.

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back.

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill.

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye.

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard.

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates.

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you.

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays.

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie.

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say.

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.”

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car.

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave.

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat.

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings.

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target.

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication.

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger.

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap.

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.”

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and plundered on.

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences.

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance.

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution.

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too.

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat.

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all.

taglist (now closed ♥):

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

#eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

375 notes · View notes

clownstillwritesfanfic · 1 month ago

Text

So Come One, Come All - Five Hargreeves X GN!Reader (REUPLOADED)

PLEASE READ: my old blog (clownwritesfanfic) was deleted when my main blog attached to it got terminated for some unknown reason. I can’t get it back so I’m reuploading everything I had saved in my notes app. Sorry for any inconvenience or disappointment, trust me, I’m devastated, but with your help I can get back to my former glory so PLEASE reblog if you like it 🙏😭

Summary: After you find out that your husband of 40 years cheated on you with his own brother’s wife, you give up on figuring out how to fix the apocalypse and run off. That’s when you’re lead to a suspicious deli full of the exact face you never wanted to see again.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 1,663

Warnings/Notes: implied/referenced cheating, heartbreak, rushed writing, happy ending

Disclaimer: Five is canonically in the body of an 18 year old in this season. Not to mention he aged like 7 more years with Lila. Also, obvious Season 4 spoilers. This season was awful and Five was done so dirty and he’s still ooc in this fic (or at least a version of him is)

This is part one of my The End series (part two and three coming soon)

———————————————————————

You had no idea how long you had been walking for. All you knew was that you were tired.

Tired of everything. Of the constant apocalypses, the fighting, the stress, …the lying, the heartache. Everything.

You had to get away from that place. You couldn’t stand to be around anyone from that family anymore. Around… him.

You and Five have been married for forty years. You both met in the first apocalypse as teens. You weren’t special like him or his siblings but you were both grateful to have someone else around.

You slowly fell in love over the years as you grew older together. You had a makeshift marriage with a ring Five had made for you out of random bits of metal he had found.

You had both been recruited into the Commission together and quickly became the most badass couple in the entire organization. You were always put on missions together for your efficiency and speed.

You had followed Five back in time to see his family, consequently getting stuck in your younger body as well. You followed him everywhere. You would’ve given your life for him.

So, how could he do this to you?

Forty years, thrown away all because he supposedly got stuck for seven fucking years in a stupid timeline traveling subway station with another woman.

You wanted to kill him. He knew that you didn’t like how comfortable Lila was with him since the beginning and he had assured you he wasn’t interested in her at all and that you were all he wanted. What a load of bullshit that was.

You had left after their explanation. You saw the way he looked at her. The exact same way he used to look at you. For him at had been years since he last saw you. For you, it had only been a few hours since he last looked at you like you were the world.

You had slipped off the wedding ring and threw it at his face before leaving. You could hear him trying to get you to stay and try to follow you but he was stopped by Diego.

You were so lost in thought before you found yourself in front of the entrance to a subway station. This must be the one they were talking about. You looked behind you, making sure no one had followed you but also as a way to look back on this life.

If they were telling the truth about the timelines…then you weren’t going to be coming back to this one. Maybe there is a timeline where you’re happy. One where you and Five don’t meet. Or maybe one where none of this happens. Where you’re both a normal married couple.

You took a deep breath as you gazed down the steps. Once you took your first step down, you knew there was no going back.

As you descended the steps, the eerie silence unnerved you. You could hear only your footsteps on the ground and the squeaking of the turnstile as you pushed through it.

You were startled by the sound of the speakers playing some sort of announcement. It was impossible to understand considering it was all backwards.

Soon, the subway entered the station and came to a halt. The doors opened and you stood still, you were still a little creeped out. Five always made you feel more comfortable in situations like this…but he wasn’t here anymore.

You swallowed your unease and entered the subway car. You slowly took a seat and looked around before the doors closed and the subway started moving. You looked out the window as flashes of colour went by.

You were there for a couple minutes before you stopped. The doors opened but you didn’t get up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get off yet. You wanted to be sure you were as far from the timeline you were just in as possible.

You felt something pull inside of you though. Something wanted you to get off and explore. So you did.

You let yourself be guided by this feeling deep inside. It was like your heart was pulling you somewhere.

It isn’t long until you end up in front of a building of some kind. Could you even call it that? You never left the station and it’s the only other place in here. Is it more of a building in a building? You didn’t want to think about it too much.

The words “Max’s Delicatessen” were shining brightly in your face. You were a little amused. Maybe you were hungry and it was actually your stomach bringing you here rather than your heart.

You sighed and decided to check it out.

But when you entered, you were horrified at what you saw.

The entire deli was full of copies of your (now ex) husband. This was the last thing you wanted to see and you internally cursed at your conscious for bringing you here.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up and your breathing become heavy as tears pricked at your eyes.

Finally, one of the Five’s had looked up and noticed you stuck in place at the door.

“Darling!” He shot up out of his seat, audibly hitting his knee on the table but he didn’t flinch.

Suddenly, every single Five in the place had his eyes on you, each with various emotions displayed on their face.

The Five that spotted you quickly made his way over to you. He lifted his shaking hands and held them over your cheeks, too scared to make contact in case you fade away.

You could see the disbelief and love in his eyes. This snapped you out of your confusion and slapped his hands away from you and backed yourself up into the door.

The Five in front of you looked confused and hurt before sighing and lowering his hands.

“Sorry…I forgot that you’re not the same one.” He apologized.

“What the FUCK is going on?” You exclaimed as you looked around to be met with all the Five’s still staring at you. “How did you get here? Why are there multiples of you? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Woah, woah, slow down. Breathe. You’re okay. Everything’s fine.” The Five in front of you tried to calm you down. “You took the subway right? This is a different timeline. We’re all the same person from different timelines. Usually the only new people that enter here are a version of me…or…us I guess. You’re the only…well…you, that has shown up here.” He explained.

“What?” You looked at him like he was crazy.

“They should sit down.” Another Five had said.

“Come on, hun. Come sit down and we can talk.” He had reached out towards you, careful not to touch you while he guided you towards the opposite end of the booth he was previously at.

You sat down, still in shock. It felt weird being surrounded by so many Five’s. Especially when you were trying to get away from him.

“I guess I’ll start.” Five had sat down across from you and sighed.

“In my timeline, you and I had been together for years. We met at the Commission. At first we hated each other but we were always put on missions together. Over time…I had fallen for you, and luckily for me, you reciprocated those feelings. We were together romantically for years. We were on our last mission before our contract with the Commission ended. We were planning on getting married after and retiring somewhere nice. But…it went wrong…and I lost you. You died in my arms.” He looked off to the side and tried to play off wiping away his tears.

“I haven’t seen you in years. You’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He reached a hand across the table and gently placed it on yours.

You teared up as you saw the pure love in his eyes. Your Five used to look at you like that and it still hurt knowing he no longer felt that way.

“If you’re here…then something must’ve happened to the Five in your timeline.” He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

You stilled and took your hand back, making the Five in front of you frown.

You hugged your torso for comfort and curled in on yourself slightly as you looked down at the table.

“We were married for forty years…but he got stuck in the subway with Lila and…I guess forty years didn’t mean anything because in seven years he threw it all away for… her .” You hiccuped as you tried to hold back your tears.

There were multiple grumbles and scoffs around the deli.

The Five across from you reached across the table and held your shoulder gaining your attention.

“Everyone here had a version of you in their timeline. We all lost you in one way or another. I think I speak for all of us when I say…having you here is the best thing to happen to us, and he’s a complete idiot for throwing you away like that.” He smiled as he lightly caressed your cheek.

You smiled slightly at his words.

“Aww there’s that beautiful smile.” Five said as he lightly pinched your cheek.

You giggled and batted his hand away and wiped your tears away.

A sandwich and drink was placed in front of you and you looked up to another Five holding a now empty tray.

“Your favourite, just the way you like it.” He said as he gently grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

You blushed at the action and thanked him.

Even though you got on that train in order to get away from him…you don’t think you’ll be getting back on any time soon.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #number five #tua s4 #tua season 4 #tua #tua five

101 notes · View notes