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shytastemakerthing · 3 months ago

Note

Congrats on 300!!! 🎉

May I have an order of Caramel Raspberry boba with a bit of sleepy lion prince please? 🦁 Also is it ok if the execution of the confession is humorous & silly? Thank you!

A/N: Hello and thank you for this request and for the congrats! One order of a confession with the sleepy lion coming right on up! Enjoy!

Prompt: 300 follower event

Theme: Romantic Confession with Leona Kingscholar

Tw: None

It really wasn't supposed to be this hard, working on a confession, but how exactly were you to put such strong feelings into words, especially when these feelings are going to be expressed to a certain lazy lion who seemed to be just as emotionally constipated? Not to mention, it wasn't as if you could really go to anyone to help you out with such a feat. Ace would tease you, no doubt. Deuce would mean the best, but in the end it would be a no-go. There was always Rook, the man who always waxed poetic every moment you saw him but you knew without a doubt he would go too overboard.

You were stuck.

Countless nights awake, slouched over a piece of paper, many more crumpled on the floor around you, the trash overflowing with failed letters of confession.

Perhaps it was time you take advice from the number of rom-coms you had seen and just go full in.... but could you really do that?

Chances are, your heart would combust on the spot.

Another sleepless night.

When did you get to the botanical gardens?

Ah, that's right, Professor Crewel's assignment for the day, had you really zoned out for that long?

This stupid confession had been plaguing every bit of your waking moments.... and even in your sleeping ones.

With a sigh, you discarded your bag before kneeling down to gather what was currently required, hands deep in the mid, the ferocity at which you were taking it all up coating your face and clothing in sprinkles of it.

Grumbling, there was a particularly difficult herb as you anchored yourself down, pulling with all your might, only to yelp as soon as it yanked free, causing you to loose your balance, falling flat on your back.

But that wasn't the worst part, no. If the shadow that was now looming over you was anything to go by, the tale-tell lion ears, those beautiful emerald green eyes you had grown to love, you just had to fall flat on your back, covered in mud, in front of none other than Leona Kingscholar.

At this point, you just wished that the ground would swallow you whole as you sat up rather quickly, trying to scramble to your feet, hoping that he couldn't hear that furious beating of your heart, but if that slight grin that was on his face was any indication, he possibly could.

"Falling for me already?"

Oh, you have no idea........

The air was rather quick to change, the grin falling from his face, body seeming stiff and still.... did... did you just say that out loud?

"I swear, I had this planned out a lot better than this..."

Your voice seemed too small yet too loud at the same time as his silence certainly didn't help with the current situation.

Just as you were about to high tail your way out of the gardens, his hand had grasped your wrist and he spun you back around to face him.

Wait... was he... blushing?

"Don't you leave me now, Herbivore. I hope you know what you're doing, cause you're stuck with me now."

Thank you so much for your request! I hope that this was okay, a full one shot is certainly an area that I am still working on ^_^

Have a wonderful day/night!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #twst imagines #twst leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #shy's 300 follower event #shy writes #shy answers #requests are open #oc ask box open

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twistmusings · 4 months ago

Text

Character Analysis of the Twisted Wonderland Dorm Rooms - Savanaclaw

Thanks so much for your input on the first post everyone! Honestly a lot of you have much sharper eyes that I do, so I'm making it a habit to add addendums when people spot things that I don't.

At any rate, here is the examination of the rooms for Savanaclaw!

Dorm Room Character Analysis Series

Leona Kingscholar

To start with the obvious, Leona is probably the most disorganized dorm that we've seen so far. He's noticeably left his clothes lying around the room. It's of note that he's got an empty hangar in his closet, which could mean that some of these clothes are clean and he cba to hang them up.

Leona has a chess set with three pieces displayed - what appears to be a Knight, a Rook, and a Pawn. I believe this may be a reference to the story arc of book 2, considering that Rooks are a powerful piece in chess. If we consider in terms of chess, if I had to guess, I would say the Knight is Leona (known for it's unique movement which can be used to strategize and take tactical advantage of board placement), the Rook would be Ruggie (known as one of the most powerful pieces in chess because it can move any distance in a single line so long as it doesn't jump another piece, thank you anon for correcting me on this!) because of his unique magic being the lynch pin of Leona's plan during book two, and Jack, or more generally, the rest of his dormmates, being the pawns, that are used to set a strategic defense.

Also of note, Leona has a plant in his room. Of course, it could be fake, but if it is real, it shows a nurturing aspect to Leona that is interesting given his characterization that we know of. Minor Spoiler Warning for Book 6 that has definitely been pointed out by other people, but we know that he lets Riddle rest on his lap during the book when he's knocked unconscious, so he does, indeed, seem to have aspects of a nurturer in his characterization that he tends to hide by being prickly. If I had to read further into this, I would say it's another aspect of his motif overall - Leona has the capacity to care a great deal about everything, but he doesn't because he isn't given the same opportunities as Falena, and so you see those parts of him come out in other places.

This may be a bit of a stretch, but I believe this pillow in Leona's room is intended to be a call-back to Lions and their manes. When Leona lays his head down on the pillow, the pattern would be splayed out around his head like one.

Leona, of course, has textiles in his room, which is mentioned to be important for his homeland in the Tamashina Mina/Cloudcalling event as they are handmade and the primary source of income for Sunset Savanna. This is of note because Leona is not the only one in Savanaclaw to display tapestries like this, but these tapestries are notably similar to those shown in the Tamashina Mina.

So this is going to be a very long and not particularly important sections, so feel free to skip if you CBA to read it, but I wish there was a little bit more information about the inspiration drawn for Leona's homeland because it could be particularly informative of the actual symbolism in the textiles. If we are considering what we know about his homeland, Leona mentions a few things that give us some hints as to the location.

Generally speaking, the Lion King is considered to be set in Tanzania, and this is in line with the Hibiscus and the Baobab that Leona mentions in the Cloudcalling event, however from my most definitely not expert research, a lot of textiles produced in Tanzania are wax dyed. (Mind, I am far from an expert in African Textiles.) This becomes important when Leona mentions that the tapestries and clothing in the Sunset Savanna are woven. While it's not always a rule, typically woven clothing and tapestries are dyed before they are woven, and weaving is what produces the pattern. With wax dyeing, the textiles are produced first, and then waxes are used to create layers of dye that are arranged in patterns. (This also gets called batik dyeing).

The left, above, is a Tanzinian Batik Kitenge Fabric from east Africa, while the right is a Ghanaian Woven Kente Cloth from West Africa next to Leona's Tapestry to show more of what I mean, which throws a wrench into examining this further because we are talking about two different cultures across the continent from one another.

The gist of this being, it does seem that Leona's tapestry and blankets would seem to be more in line with woven fabric as opposed to batik dyed fabric. If anyone has more information who is more versed in this subject, I would love to know more! Basically, this is the long way of me saying I can't exactly identify whether or not any of the tapestries or blankets in his room hold any particular meaning in their patterns or colors because I wouldn't know what culture it would be drawing inspiration from! To be quite honest, it is entirely possible this is a case of Twist mixing several cultures together to paint a more general picture of African culture.

To change the subject back to the room - Leona has a notable lack of study materials in his room. In fact, I don't see a single book in his room. If Riddle is the one who is the king of the little readers club, Leona was the kid who filled in all the stamps on the summer reading list to get the prizes without reading anything.

While it's not as prevalent as Cater or Trey, Leona's room features a lot of darker yellows and reds. It's possible that Leona favors these warmer colors, which is funny considering his rather gloomy outlook on a lot of things, as these colors are generally associated with happiness and passion.

The hidden mickey in his room is just below his overhead lamp.

Jack Howl

Jack, as we know, has a little cactus garden in his room. it is of note, his cacti are flowering, which is a sign that his little cacti are as happy as could be.

This might be a bit morbid, but if I had to guess, I would guess that Jack's rug is a synthetic wolf-skin rug given the jagged design on the edges. This is only a guess of course, as the bedrooms and backgrounds in twist tend to have a slightly flatter style than the rest of the game, so it's hard to tell if it's actually fur or not. Regardless, we see see a lot of the members of Savanaclaw's animals represented in small touches in their room.

Jack is pretty organized in comparison to the other freshmen! All of his books are put away, and even his weights and resistance bands are tucked away as much as they can be.

Jack seems to have soy protein, a protein shake container, and a stick of deodorant ready-to-go! Jack might be a bit extra with his workout routine, but at least he seems to be responsible about it by making sure he's getting the nutritional support he needs to build muscle and taking care not to smell rank.

Jack also has a textile on his wall. Given the Shaftlands seems to be generally inspired by Europe, I would guess that the tapestry is most similar to Nordic knitted and woven fabrics. The motif of the tapestry seems to be floral designs or snowflakes and pine trees. This seems to be a cute callback to how Jack likes to snowboard and how he comes from a snowy place.

Like the other first years, Jack doesn't seem to have decorated his bedsheets much. He does have a bedrunner in a flamestitch sort of pattern. Though the flamestitch pattern isn't commonly attributed to any one country, it is generally considered to be of European origin, adding to the European inspiration of the shaftlands.

The hidden Mickey in Jack's room is next to his tapestry.

Ruggie Bucchi

Mr. Pig. More seriously, Ruggie found it abandoned on the street and took it home. There's a meerkat version as well that Ruggie has mentioned getting in his Birthday Boy Vignette. He also mentions that it sings or lets out a happy squeal when you put coins into it.

Also, Ruggie has a framed photo on his desk, similar to Deuce. I would guess this is a photo of him and his grandmother.

Ruggie actually seems to read quite a bit! He has books in his bookshelf, as well as stacked next to his bed within easy reach to read there if he would like to. These don't seem to be textbooks, so it's an easy conclusion that Ruggie probably reads in his free time. My guess for the textbooks is that Ruggie likely downloads them online from a library resource. Or illegally. To be quite honest, good for him, textbooks are expensive for no damn reason.

Ruggie is also quite well organized - he doesn't have a lot of personal items in his room, but the ones that he does have are put away.

Following on that last point, Ruggie's lack of decorations aside from a handful of things likely lends to him being raised in poverty.

Interesting note, but Ruggie has roommates. In fact, a lot of the Twisted Wonderland cast do, but you can actually see snippets of Ruggie and Jack's roommates space in their cards. The freshmen are mentioned to have four to a room, so though I didn't include this in the first post, Ace and Deuce have two other roommates.

While it might be easy to assume that Ruggie's comforter is giraffe print at first glance, the coloration and spacing of the pattern actually leads me to believe this is meant to be the pattern of a spotted Hyena.

Ruggie's hidden mickey is on the wall next to his closet.

#not writing;;#twisted wonderland #twst #mod azul #leona kingscholar #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #You have no idea how hard I have to try to not refer to the hidden Mickeys as 'hidden michaels' every time.#because I refer to Mickey Mouse as Michael Mouse almost exclusively.#character analysis;;

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aphrogeneias · 10 months ago

Text

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x manager's daughter!reader

summary: eddie has hit rock bottom. it's been a long time coming. there's only one person who can help him, but he hasn't thought of her in a long time.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of drinking and drugs (licit and illicit), and issues with the excess of both. brief mention of a small injury.

series masterlist / taglist is open!

The first thing Eddie ever noticed about you was your laugh. It was your most striking feature.

It commanded a room. It said everything there was to say about you. Loud, unabashed, not scared to call attention. The kind of laughter that makes you throw your head back, the kind that makes everything funnier. Impossible to miss.

He heard it, clear as a bell, across the hall from your father’s office, the first time he walked through the halls of that office building, shoulder to shoulder with his friends and bandmates, ready to sign Corroded Coffin’s first ever major deal.

A lot of firsts in one day. Too many life changing circumstances. The first fallen domino in a long, crumbling chain.

He can still see it all. The outdated, 1970s wallpaper and carpet, creams and oranges and swirls. The tour posters and platinum records littering the walls. The smell of cigarettes and hardwood floor wax coming from his future manager’s office as they went in. Into the lion’s den, wide eyed boys with hands that trembled too much for a confident handshake.

The girl sitting on top of the big office table, laughing at her father’s jokes. He couldn't hear what he told you just before they came in, but it seemed like an intimate moment. Father and daughter, their own world.

That laughter, though. It caught him by surprise. It shook the entire room. She barely spared them a glance as they were ushered in, and climbed down with a kind of feline grace. Her hair bounced behind her as she walked away, hurriedly blowing a kiss back at the man behind the desk.

Expensive perfume, the glint of golden jewelry on her skin, the sway of her hips just before the door closed behind her. His eyes struggled with tearing themselves off the door that hid her from him.

The first time he saw you. You, you, you.

Eddie Munson had never met anyone like you. He wasn't sure he ever would — and he was right, after all.

CHATEAU MARMONT HOTEL, LOS ANGELES, 1990

The sound of the telephone wakes him up.

He doesn’t know when he’s gone to bed, has no memory of it, but he can feel the toll last night took on his body. His tired body drags itself across the mattress, and the first thing Eddie notices is that he’s naked. The second is that the phone is still ringing.

Reaching out, his face hits the pillow once more, smushing his cheek against it as he grabs the receiver and pulls it to his ear. “Munson residence. Edwin speaking.”

“Where the fuck were you, man?”

The voice on the other side of the line sounds like Jeff, but Eddie’s never heard him quite like this. On the verge of tears, but maybe his still drunk brain is playing tricks on him. He doesn’t need to look around to know that the room is a mess. There’s a sheet on the floor, and a bottle of booze on his field of vision, and another at the side table next to the phone. Both empty.

He’s just glad he didn’t wake up to someone next to him in bed.

“What do you mean, where were you? At the hotel, I think. You were here too.”

“Last night, Eddie. We waited for you. Where were you? We thought you were dead.”

Last night. He didn’t remember last night. A rooftop, a pool, a sunset. Too many bottles, too many pills. A girl putting something on his tongue while she sat on his lap, and shutting his jaw closed with a delicate hand. Tripping on lounge chairs, falling on the pool. Blood on his knees. Someone dragging him up and into the elevator.

“What day is it?” He mumbles.

A record label party in their honor, to follow the success of their fourth album. Followed by a… concert.

A concert.

All that comes from the other side of the line is a drawn out sigh. “They’re sending someone to go get you. I hope you get your shit together until then.”

Then, it goes silent.

The concert.

Stumbling on himself, Eddie tries to stand up, and falls. The memory of his skinned knees comes as quickly as the pain does, and he notices they’re bare, still bleeding a little. He finds his underwear on the floor, next to the rest of his clothes, and slips them on as he moves towards the door, propping himself up on the wall.

He yanks the door open, and sprints through the hall as best as he can, catching the attention of one of the maids, who he promptly stops in front of, suddenly much too aware of his own nakedness. She freezes, trying to keep her eyes on his face.

“What day is it?”

A lump grows on his throat. His own voice sounds foreign, like it’s coming from someplace else.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“What day is it? Today, what’s the date?”

“It’s the 17th. August 17.”

All he can do is nod, and make his back to his room as if the world hadn’t just fallen from his feet.

A day too late.

THE RAINBOW BAR & GRILL, SUNSET BOULEVARD, LOS ANGELES, SUMMER 1987

“Pinch me.”

There had been plenty of “pinch me” moments in those last few weeks. Eddie wasn't sure what Gareth meant, though, as he sat straighter against the cushion of their booth.

It was dark inside, and every surface gleamed red. From the cherry red booths to the bottles on the bar shelves, the dark wood on the walls, the chandeliers. He couldn't tell most people's faces, and they'd probably wanted it that way.

The line to get inside was turning the corner, the people there having a party within themselves, under the lights of Sunset Boulevard. It was loud, and bright, everywhere they went. Eddie thrived around it all.

He'd never felt more alive in his twenty-one years than in the months he had spent here.

The younger boy scooted closer to him, a glass of something colorful in hand. Courtesy of one of the girls whose booth he'd been sitting on until now, surely. Not he'd blame him, he'd lost count of the glasses he had himself, feeling light in his seat.

“Fucking”, the drummer hit him in the arm, pupils taking over the blue in his eyes, “pinch me, man!”

“What the fuck for?” He laughed at his friend’s tone.

“Do you see that?”

Gareth pointed forward to a booth a couple of tables from them. It was full, with mostly women, their teased up hair and flashy clothes demanding all the attention. As his friend pointed out, some of them looked over to them, waving with delicate fingers. Eddie waved back, throwing in a wink for good measure.

He'd easily feel intimidated with those eyes on him, but the alcohol in his body threw those inhibitions away.

“Those girls,” Gareth continued, “those beautiful girls, invited us to a private party at their apartment.”

Eddie nodded along while Gareth emphasized the words private and apartment. As if their intentions weren't obvious from the beginning of the night. He could see Grant on his seat, soaking up the attention from a blonde girl with her hand on his shoulder, and Jeff standing to the side, deep in conversation with a guy in a similar black leather jacket.

From afar, none of it looked real.

If he was being honest, he never thought he'd be living his father’s life this soon — or ever. Eddie wondered about it all the time. What was Al Munson doing when his mother was reading him to sleep back in Nashville, or later, when his uncle was working the late night shift to get both of them by.

The fame, the contacts, the booze, the money. The women. The more he learned, the less he knew.

All Eddie knew was that he promised himself he'd never turn out like his old man, a promise he'd made himself a long time ago, long before he landed in the City of Angels, but seeing what he'd seen in the small amount of time he'd spent there, he wondered if that was really possible.

Corruption seemed tempting, inevitable even, amongst the red and maroons of The Rainbow. Demons, sirens, and the small town boys drawn to them. Hell itself, in disguise.

“And,” Gareth continued, putting his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, grinning at him, “they asked me to call you over.”

Just as he thought. Tempting. Matching his friend’s grin, Eddie reached over to his arm and pinched it, hard. Gareth’s subsequent yelp was dulled by the loud music and chatting, and Eddie only grinned harder when the boy went for him.

They wrestled for a bit until the drummer pulled him from his seat and up, teasing him, “C’mon, man. You need to get laid”.

“You need to get laid! You're the one who's been begging for that secretary’s number. What’s her name again? J-”

He stopped on his tracks, pulling Gareth with him by his t-shirt.

While he was talking and his eyes were running across the bar, unable to pay attention to just one thing at once, he saw a familiar sitting in a booth at the other side of the room. A girl near his age, a familiar face.

She was sitting facing his way, beside a guy who had his arm around her shoulder. He looked slightly out of place in his neat black sweater and Ray-Ban glasses pushing his hair back. They looked expensive, the pair of them. Untouchable, in their own bubble.

They were talking to a girl who had her back to him, all Eddie could see was the back of her head, a blonde bob shaking as she gestured with her hands, wrapped in white lace gloves and gleaming silver rings.

The girl laughed, throwing her head back and into her friend’s — boyfriend’s? — shoulder and, in that moment, he knew exactly who she was.

Eddie’s vision tunneled, and he could hear Gareth beside him, whining for him to hurry up. He pushed his friend away, making a sign for him to go on without him.

Gareth rolled his eyes, mumbling something he did not understand — he might have told him he'd come later, but Eddie was too busy with his eyes on your table to decipher what came out of his own mouth.

As he approached with unsure steps, the sudden confidence that overtook him only lasting half of the way, until he saw your male friend — he wasn't about to think of him as your boyfriend, not yet, he needed to have some hope — and the girl stand.

He watched as the guy dragged his hand from your shoulder, to your elbow, and finally held your hand in his, leaving a kiss there before accompanying his other friend to the bar. Something burned and wilted inside of him, an ugly feeling he couldn't quite place.

That's my moment, Eddie thought, as he did before every single impulsive decision he ever took — and there wasn't a shortage of them.

His worn down boots, which in hindsight might once have been Wayne’s, carried him to your table. Your borderline bored stare made you even prettier from up close, as he tried to open his mouth and figure out what to say.

Instead, he could just watch as you drowned back the rest of your drink, and reached into your purse to light a cigarette. “What are you looking at?”, you asked, without looking at him yet.

His mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, before gathering himself. “You're Ace’s daughter, aren't you? I saw you at his office.”

“Yes, and you're one of the label’s new hires who's still at that phase they're not ashamed to kiss ass.”

Finally, you turned, blowing the smoke in his direction. He barely felt it, really, because he was more focused on your smile, and the way your glossy lips stretched, and your nose scrunched.

Normally, he would have been pissed. But, with that face, you must have been used to stepping on people's toes and not getting heat because of it. He'd let you blow smoke directly on his face if it meant you'd keep looking at him.

You gestured vaguely to the seat in front of you, and he took the message. “Maybe. Am I kissing the right ass?” He grinned as he sat down.

No ring on your finger, he noticed, and maybe it was a good sign. He could be unbothered too. With the right amount of madness and a little Munson Magic, he could leave here with your number.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, but grinned back. “I'll have you know my ass is very demanding.”

“Noted.” He feigned seriousness. “I’m Eddie.”

“Munson, I know.”

Surprised, his eyebrows rose to his forehead. “How do you know?”

A chill ran down his spine at the mention of his last name. The curse he carried. Of course you'd know, your dad would know, even though he's never talked about it. Everyone knew.

“Dad isn't the only one in charge of business. At least not all of it.” You played with the piece of lime on your glass, and ran your finger through the rim, catching a bit of the salt there, licking it off your finger. “I know a thing or two.”

Right. All business, but no family.

You couldn't have been doing it on purpose. Eddie didn't think he was worth it, but the strain on his jeans said otherwise. He felt tense for more reasons than one.

“And you're not gonna tell me your name?”

“Thought you already know. Boy like you looks like he would do his homework.”

“Oh, no. A boy like me failed high school more times than I'd be comfortable sharing.”

He chuckled, and there it was again. Your laugh, freeing itself against the walls of the bar and bounced on him like a spell. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Thought your ass was very demanding.” He quoted you, grinning from ear to ear, and tilting his head. “Was my kissing good enough?”

You put out your cigarette on the table and dropped the butt on your empty glass before looking straight into his eyes. Then, you got distracted by something happening behind him. He felt it too, and turned around to look.

The guy, your boyfriend-not-boyfriend, approached with no drinks in hand, despite coming from the direction of the bar, and no blonde friend in sight. He doesn’t acknowledge Eddie, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. “Who’s this?”

When Eddie turned back to you, you were already standing too. “New meat. Doesn’t know he’s swimming with sharks yet.”

You were talking like he wasn’t not there.

Inside, he deflates. He knew your type, your definitely-boyfriend’s type. The type who looked down on him, who thought little of his ambition. Eddie thought he could approach you, even though you were every bit as unapproachable as you looked. Things had changed for him, but that wouldn’t change regardless of where he stood. He was still at the bottom of the food chain, and you, taunting him at the very top.

It wasn’t like either of you were aware of it, but it had been nice to pretend for what little he could.

Didn’t change the fact that he still wanted you to look at him — and you did, for one last time that night, as the other guy laced his fingers with yours, and pulled you away, telling you something about an after party.

“Better work on that kissing, Eddie Munson.”

ALBATROSS RECORDS HQ, SAN FRANCISCO, 1990

Eddie has a lot to think of while he waits.

It seems like some kind of punishment, one parents would dish out on their small kids. Sit on that corner, face the wall, think of what you did. Think of what you did. It was easier to think of what he hasn’t done.

Missing an important concert because he was shitfaced and blacked out was the last drop, but that glass has been full for some time now.

Out of control, it's what he's been hearing. He'd seen his own face on MTV not too long ago, late at night on a grainy television, baring his tongue back at himself. He gives himself the devil horns like a crown, a silver cross hanging from his neck and sticking to his bare chest, as he addresses the camera from the stage before diving in the crowd. Out of control, they said.

He'd barely remembered that, or that the concert was being filmed. Figures.

Though, he had to agree someone in control wouldn't end up with as many bills for destroyed tour buses and hotel rooms in his name as he did. Someone in control wouldn't have been arrested for drug possession more than once, or have almost drowned in a hotel pool across the world. Or have lost the trust and admiration of his closest friends, and the contact with the only family he has.

His head aches. Eddie lifts his fingers to massage his temples, and sighs. It's August in California, and he's cold sweating in his seat, under his t-shirt. The chill gets worse when he hears the office’s door open behind him.

He doesn't turn around, doesn't move. The man approaches the table — his table — and loosens the collar of his dress shirt before sitting down, undoing his cufflinks and folding his sleeves up.

Ace Adler is a man of few words. He never talks much, but when he does, he makes sure one will listen. Eddie doesn't know much about him outside of talking business, other than Ace Adler was definitely not his real name, but he knew to take him seriously.

It felt like being in a room with his father, but at least his old man knew how to work a room before striking.

“I'm not going to tell you about the harm that you've done, but I'm sure your bandmates had the time to inform you.” Ace started, staring him down. “I won't tell you about the money we lost, and the contracts we had to humiliate ourselves to not lose, or what my business partners told me when they got the news. You must have a feeling it wasn't pretty.”

“I can…” Eddie started, and all he received was a raised hand in response.

“You'll talk when I'm done, son.”

A pause, much too long. Eddie nods, and keeps his eyes forward. It'll be worse if he doesn't meet his manager’s cold stare. His stomach drops.

“I won't tell you about any of it because that won't change a thing. All I'll tell you is that you got lucky, because I was supposed to fire you today, but someone changed my mind.”

“Fire me? Fire me from my own band?”

Ace doesn't answer his outburst. Instead, he slips a note from across the table in his general direction. It's a piece of ripped pink paper.

Tentatively, he opens it. There's all but a name and a phone number. Your name, and your phone number. You're using your real last name, he supposes, but that's undoubtedly you. Was that your handwriting too?

“Give her a call.” Ace says as he stands again, already on his way out. “Maybe she can help you out, because I won’t.”

As he hears your father close the door behind him once more, he thinks of all the last few times he saw you. The disdain in your eyes, the harsh words he uttered. Animosity from both sides, born from years of resentment.

He goes back to that first conversation. “Better work on that kissing, Eddie Munson.”

Never had he thought it would come that day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic

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