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undead-supernova · 6 months

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I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

Monsters in the Darkest Dark / Masterlist

Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

plot: "I broke my own heart 'cause you were too polite to do it."

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: media/public scrutiny of reader's body, hurt/no comfort, fighting, mention of smoking, my apologies

wc: 3k

You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

Honest to God, your intentions were nothing but pure.

And yet, against all odds, your fate was sealed the moment madness broke loose.

The morning had been gentle, awoken by the smell of burnt toast and melted butter. Eyes opening to the sight of Eddie handing you a plate and a cup of coffee. It was simple. Effortless.

He greeted you with a slow kiss, leaving behind the drag of your teeth against his lips. Toast left to grow cold on the nightstand as you dragged Eddie back into bed.

Most of the morning and afternoon seemed to slip away seamlessly, with gentle kisses and sunscreen and the promise of Jeff’s cooking. And it was all fine and good that evening, laughter pouring from your lips as you sat with Eddie. With Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie. Playing an awful round of drunken charades and talking about what was next for the band. Wondering what the next album would sound like. Ultimately, Jeff was the one to shut it down, walking into the room with ice cream and a promise to watch Taskmaster.

But Eddie wanted to head to the beach alone, saying he wanted a moment to himself. You couldn’t blame him. This night was especially beautiful, the stars sprinkled against the obsidian of the sky. The air was just right, blowing a cool breeze through your overheated bodies and leaving behind warmth.

You paused at the halfway point between the beach and your shared house, watching him tuck a cigarette between his lips. Told him you’d see him soon. You let him go, disconnecting your matching calloused fingertips before heading back to your room.

Downed a few glasses of water. Laid back on your bed. Grabbed your phone for quite literally the first time since you’d called Este the previous morning. It’d been left idle on the nightstand, finding the lack of connection quite freeing.

But there you were, ready to venture back on.

So, you opened Instagram.

It was supposed to be a silly little post. Really, that was all it was supposed to be. A moment of nonchalance. Nothing too big. Just a wish for Mary to have a happy birthday tomorrow when you couldn’t be there yourself. A small gesture of appreciation during the stress of finals.

But as soon as it was posted, you saw the comments grow.

And grow.

And you knew you shouldn’t have looked.

You knew.

But you did it anyways.

You pressed on that stupid little comment icon.

And you found exactly what you shouldn’t have.

“What?” you whispered to yourself before going to Google and searching your name.

And within seconds, it was there in front of you. Articles splattered with pictures of you and Eddie on the beach. Specifically zoomed in on your stomach from the side. There was one of you and Eddie sleeping, as if that wasn’t creepy enough. Three showed a red circle drawn around your tummy and the appearance of a double chin. And then there was a video of you making out from across the street, laughing and all over each other. One or two pictures of you in the club, dancing in the mosh pit.

Of course, all the pictures made Eddie look good. A fucking dreamboat. But you? Not a chance.

The articles said nothing about Eddie other than feeling bad for him. But for you, they spoke about how you “gained weight.” How you were “unhealthy.” How you looked “horrible” compared to him. That you were letting yourself go, standing next to the Rockstar who’d only “dated” thin girls; healthy girls—trying to make the words synonymous with one another. Trying to tell the public that your normal body was the problem.

And by association, you. You were the problem.

Eddie had promised privacy, safety. That this was an island of seclusion. And here the internet was, laughing at you. Laughing at Eddie for being dumb enough to be with you. Laughing at your relationship. Despite your heated kisses. Despite the grin on his face and his arms around you. Despite every pretty word that left his lips when he was given the chance.

And, yeah, maybe his words should’ve mattered more.

But you couldn’t help but consider it.

Maybe they were right. Maybe you didn’t fit.

And it was only a matter time before Eddie saw it.

You didn’t know what the breaking point was, couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause of the shift. Maybe it was one of the comments, one of the pictures. Maybe it was the metallic taste in your mouth that began to turn sour with nausea. It could’ve been the girl from last night or the way Ronnie never stopped looked at you like you were running out of time.

Regardless, you snapped.

And you knew you had to leave before Eddie had the chance. Find a way to break him gently so he didn’t feel obligated to keep dating you. Out of pity, out of politeness.

If you left in the night, left in the shadow of the moonlight, maybe it could soften the blow.

A swift, clean break.

But as you started packing, you couldn’t help the tears gushing down your cheeks. Voices came at you from every part of your brain, screaming each vile word spoken about you in the last few years.

It was too much now, the internet doing exactly what it wanted to do. You’d tried not caring. You’d tried to block out the noise and focus on the life you desperately wanted to live. Tried to let the love you and Eddie shared be the only sight, the only sound that mattered. But you just couldn’t take it anymore.

And maybe you needed to leave it all behind. Give the world what they wanted and go dark. Erase yourself from the public, from the narrative, and find a way to fade from view. Vanish into the shadows and let yourself become merely an echo in the ever-flowing chamber of public consumption.

But where would Eddie be in all of this? What would you do with the silence, with the echoes of him drifting down your hallways? How would you be able to willingly follow that treacherous quiet? And was there any chance of survival?

It all ripped through you, your sobs ricocheting off the walls.

And it was then that you heard his voice.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asked, rushing over to you. “Are you leaving? Hey, talk to me. What happened?”

He was so beautiful in his black tank top, hair finally resting over his shoulders for the first time in days. A pretty reminder of just how much this was going to sting.

“I can’t keep dealing with this stuff,” you muttered, zipping up your suitcase. “I need to go.”

“Dealing with what?”

You couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that left your lips as you opened up your phone, still honed in on a TMZ article. He took your phone, eyebrows furrowing as he scanned the pictures. Read the accompanying sentences.

But then he paused, avoiding your gaze. Voice growing quiet as he said, “I thought you stopped looking at social media.”

“I just wanted to post something for Mary’s birthday,” you explained. “And then…”

“Sweetheart,” he said gently as he put the phone on the bed. “You’re so beautiful—"

“I don’t believe what they say about me,” you stated, watching his eyes widen as they finally met yours. “I’ll make that clear. I know my body is beautiful the way it is. I know that it’s my body and it doesn’t need to look the way that I’ve been told it needs to. I don’t feel bad about my body.”

“Then why…”

“Because it’s invasive,” you said. “Because I have become a target and I’ve got a lot of easy shots to take. My dating history, my weight. The validity of my bisexuality when I write about men. All of it.

“Eddie, I am tired of being a joke. I am tired of being seen as some fictional character to write think pieces about and scrutinize and everything else. Maybe I should go into hiding for a while or something.” You shook your head, trying to go back to your frantic packing. “I don’t know. I just can’t be here.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said, pointing at his pile of clothes in the corner. “We can go back to New York and—"

“No,” you said harshly, looking at him. “I don’t want you to come with me.”

Slowly, he lowered his arm. “Uh, why not?”

You paused, knowing you had to deal the blow. Even if it was the last thing you ever wanted to do. “Because I don’t know if we should keep going. I don’t know if this is good for us. For you.”

He flinched away from you; eyes still boring into yours. “What the fuck are you even saying? That you’re just giving up on us because of strangers on the internet?” He scoffed. “Like they matter? I mean, what do they have to do with our relationship?”

His eyes widened, the reality of the situation washing over him. “If their dumb opinions win right now, what does that make me? Collateral damage? Or does that… Does that mean that I’m the problem?”

“Eddie, you’re not a problem at all—"

“It sure sounds like it,” he interrupted. “What’s the common denominator in all this? I asked you to be mine. I’m the one who got you the bikini. I’m the one who asked you to come. I’m the reason you’re given this shit.” He let out a short laugh. “I guess I’m the problem in this equation, huh? Gotta cut me out.”

“No!” you exclaimed before pointing at your chest. “I’m the problem, Eddie! It’s me!”

“Bullshit.”

“Eddie…”

“You act like you’re some problem for everyone,” he started. “With all these fucking people that love you, that see that goodness in you—see the real you. Like…you don’t even realize how much you actually shine.” He sighed, shaking his head. “And yet, you chose to be with me. I didn’t even really understand why, but I was just fucking happy to be yours.”

“Eddie, please,” you whispered. You didn’t know what you were asking. For him to stop saying these things? To stop fighting for you? To give up when you wanted nothing but to stop hurting him?

Eddie took a step forward, eyes never leaving yours. “And I was so fucking happy because I’m crazy about you. And I thought you were, too.” He paused before his face drew closer. “Are you?”

You sniffled, no longer trying to wipe away your tears. And you cracked, unable to stop yourself from nodding. Because Eddie was what made you weak, made you bend.

His face was so close, and his cheeks were flushed. You could smell the ocean and the faint hint of nicotine wafting off him. Could feel your callouses brush up against one another. And you were curling into yourself, daunted by the weight of his presence. By his stare.

How could someone like Eddie still want you through all of this?

“Y-yeah,” you uttered. “Yeah, I am.”

Closer now, his forehead met yours. But your eyes still held each other, neither one of you able to look away.

“Then why can’t that be enough?”

A ragged breath left your lips. “We know why.”

“They don’t matter.”

“Maybe they’re right,” you whispered. “Maybe they see what we can’t.”

His features softened, his lower lip beginning to tremble. “Am I not worth it?”

You shook your head. “Don’t say that about yourself. Please.”

“You told me last night that you never wanted to be with anyone else,” he said, jaw tightening as his eyes glassed over. “And now you’re breaking up with me? Did you really just lead me on for six months? ‘Cause I thought you wanted to stay. That…that, I don’t know, you trusted me. Trusted what we have. Because it’s real. It’s all real. At least…at least it is for me.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. Emotions darted across his face, seeming to change every few seconds.

Frustration, anger.

Sorrow, grief.

And then he sniffled. Tears spilled over. His face fell into a scarlet flush, lips curling open as a sob left his mouth.

Every little detail that was surely going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“I just don’t fit in your world,” you whispered.

“That’s fucking horse shit,” he cried, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes. “You fit in so perfectly to my life. Can you not fucking see that?”

You could only reflect him, trying to cease your tears as you watched your hearts break in real time.

“I don’t,” you whispered. “You just don’t see that yet. I’m doing this for you.”

“No, you’re doing this for you.”

“This is the right thing to do!” you exclaimed, a hiccup escaping your lips. “This is how I protect you!”

“This is how you protect yourself.”

“Eddie, please. You can’t see it yet, but I promise I’m not good for you.”

Everyone knows it, you wanted to say. They see right through me.

And in due time, he would, too.

Eddie stepped towards you, lifting his hand to your face as if he was going to caress your cheek. But he stopped, curling his fist before bringing it to his lips to try and suppress a hiccup. Shook his head. As if he knew he had lost. As if this battle was already over and he was collecting his participation trophy.

“If you do this, you’re hurting me!” he exclaimed, gasping. “And if you sit there and act like you’re not good enough for me? You’re not just wasting that shit on yourself. You’re losing me in the process.”

“Eddie, I…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence. It was all there, lodged in your throat, unable to escape.

“Do you want to lose me?” he asked, tugging at his hair. “Do you care?”

“You know I care,” you said harshly. “That’s why I have to do this.”

“No, no, no. I’m showing my cards, okay?” he croaked, pressing his hand against his heart. “I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you. I want a life with you, and I don’t want to sit here and have to wonder what anyone else thinks about it. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t trade you for the world.

“Could you say the same?”

Your eyes darted between his, soaking in his words as they spilled from his lips. He was saying all of the right things, all of the tiny things that made you want to cave. Made you want to call this off and get into bed. Forget that you ever made a decision. But you knew that you had to do this. If it wasn’t now, it would happened eventually.

And your silence was enough for him.

“I just,” he sighed. “I love you.”

A short gasp left your lips.

He’d said it. He actually said it.

And you were still standing there, saying nothing.

Doing nothing.

Eddie crossed his arms over his stomach, digging his fingernails into his elbows. You could see him pushing into his stomach.

“Say something,” he pleaded.

“I’m setting you free, Eddie,” you replied, barely above a whisper. “Goodbye.”

Grabbing your suitcase, you reluctantly took a few steps towards the door.

“Why do you have to do this?” you heard him whisper, voice cracking. Like he was saying it to himself. Like he knew that this was done.

You turned back.

“I’m here fighting for you. And you’re just…walking away.”

And though you watched him fall to his knees, cries getting louder, you didn’t help him up.

You wanted to. Oh, how you wanted to fall back into him and explain that you wanted him so badly that it was tearing you apart. That you also wanted to fall to the floor, contort yourself into a fetal position and hyperventilate. That you understood.

But you didn’t.

Like a coward, you walked away.

You sat on a bench by the pier for a while, sobbing into your hands, drenching your skin in salty tears. Listened to the crashing of the ocean, the white noise driving you to the brink of insanity. You stayed there until the sun came up, regretting everything you’d said. Everything you did.

But it was already too late, catching the first boat back to the mainland.

So now you were sitting on the back of a boat, staring at the empty dock as you waited to pull away.

And in the distance, you thought you saw Eddie standing there.

But it wasn’t him.

It was Ronnie, with her arms crossed over her chest, giving you a scowl. Body rigid as she watched you go.

“You’re nothing but a coward.”

“I know you’ll gladly throw it away just because it isn’t the fucking fairytale you imagined.”

But there was one other thing Ronnie had said to you, the one that stayed stuck in your mind the entire way back.

“Don’t drag someone into your fucking mess if you can’t clean it up.”

And that’s exactly what you were. A godforsaken mess that had to be removed before you could ruin Eddie’s life any further. And if it cut you to the core, sobs wracking your body the moment you fell into Scott’s arms at the airport, then so be it.

“What did he do?” he asked, pulling you further into the private lounge.

You merely shook your head, clutching your fifth tissue smattered in tears and snot. “It was me. I’m just a fucking mess. A stupid, idiotic fool. A coward. A fucking idiot. I—”

You choked on another sob, curling further into his chest.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “You’re not any of those things, okay? You’re only human.”

Not to anyone else, you wanted to say. I’m not a human being. I’m just a machine for others to gawk at.

“I wish I could go back to the beginning.”

“As much as I wish I could take you back…” Scott sighed. “Darlin’, none of us can go back.”

Seven hours later, you ended up back at your New York house without paparazzi sneaking into the airport. Sat in the deafening silence, all alone. Went to your bed, alone, staring at the made bed. Shook your head. Decided to go back downstairs. Laid on the couch, curling into a fetal position.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, making yourself as small as you could. But you watched dusk turn into dawn. And as the cold light of morning washed over you, you realized that your life was never going to be the same. Eddie Munson was gone.

And as far as anyone knew, so were you.

as always, a big thanks to @strangergraphics for her lovely dividers. sorry to *gunshot* you all in the process of releasing this!

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #rockstar eddie munson

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rejectclone · 1 year

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I’ve been on a huge Splatoon kick for MONTHS at this point, so I’ve finally decided to make a Coroika-like OC team! Because since they’re kinda Coroika themed, they have two names, so they’re either named after their gear OR have a codename they use while battling! 🎨🔫

🦑💙🌀 Low-Vis AKA Reject 🌀💙🦑

* Female inkling, she/her

* Natural ink color is is a bright turquoise, which is almost blinding when it’s caught in bright sunlight

* Hairstyle is the iconic Hippie cut, and she’s never changed it in her entire life

* Noticeable facial feature is some near-constant dark circles under her eye mask, even though she does get a full night’s worth of sleep every day. Additionally, the shaping of her eye mask is quite odd, as it’s almost shaped like a pair of sunglasses and is ‘flat’ on top, akin to a straight line

* Sloshing Machine main, secondaries Octobrush (biased towards Sloshers and Brushes + Rollers in general, and they absolutely LOATHE Splatlings and Blasters)

* Hails from Inkopolis, born and raised there for their entire childhood and young adult years

* They’re a indie sofubi artist who moved into Splatsville to sell her original (ancient human culture inspired) sofubi figures to some solid success so far. She does make ends meet by working at Grizz Co., but she has been making good money with her tendency to win small Anarchy tournaments at a good rate

* S+ ranker, pretty big Splat Zones and Tower Control fan, but does enjoy playing Turf incredibly causally

* Leader of the team and is a excellent all-rounder type player, but tends to be a bad sore loser though when suffering from multiple losses in one day, ESPECIALLY after getting a real bad pull from the Shell-Out Machine *cough* pulling a meal ticket *cough*

🐙💗🎛 Aux Box AKA Spare 🎛💗🐙

* Male Octoling, he/him

* Natural ink color is a soft light pink, almost cotton candy-like

* Hairstyle is the Afro cut, but he does have a small X shaped scar on the back of it

* Noticeable facial feature is that due to years of using his favorite main weapon, there is a noticeable ‘dent’ below his right eye socket, on top of his eye mask. Additionally, there are faint scars on top of his knuckles, due to how often his fingers would hit the backside of the trigger guard….. plus getting into occasional fist fights with other competitors

* ONE-TRICK E-Liter 4K Scope main, as he refuses to secondary anything (you’d have to literally kill him to make him just TOUCH any other non-special weapon)

* Hails from Splatville, as he was born and raised there his entire life, amongst other incredibly lucky Octolings whose families dodged being forced to fight in the Great Turf War. Hence, his appearance and demeanor is radically different when compared to Octolings who were in Octavio’s army and defected, and he also seems to be totally disinterested in learning more about his culture’s history

* Once projected to be the next breakout Turf War star in the world, he had suddenly became spiteful in playing that mode and began to dominate Anarchy instead. He seems to be very closed off when being asked why he changed his initial goal in life, and becomes easily agitated when pressed even further on it

* X-Ranker, VERY BIG Rainmaker + Clam Blitz fan and he still absolutely crushes it in Splat Zones and Tower Control

* Second member to join the team, as he was impressed by Low-Vis’ prowess in a random Splatfest match, and was shockingly open to making a causal team, although he does overtake the leadership role every one in awhile (and he does rule with a iron fist, either to incredibly positive success or devastating failure)

🐙💜🌫 Yamagiri AKA Haze 🌫💜🐙

* Female Octoling, she/her

* Natural ink color is a bright lavender, but she can also turn it into a deeper red, essentially on-command

* Hair style is a mixture between the ‘traditional’ Octarian hair cut, and the Pony cut

* Noticeable facial feature is that oddly enough, her eye’s sclera are still tinted green. Additionally, she wears black eyeliner on top of her naturally purple eye mask, to try to fit in more amongst other Inkfish

* Mains Splatana Stamper, secondaries Octo Shot (the LEGITIMATE REAL thing, not at all the replica version)

* Hails from Inkopolis square, but she initially came from Octo Valley and moved into Splatsville for a fresher start in rebuilding up her life

* A former Octarian Army member, she has become disillusioned by the actions of her past and now deeply craves normalcy, once she heard the Calamari Inkantation

* Diehard Tableturf player, as she has a near-complete collection of every card that’s in active play and is a very tough competitor to beat. She makes a living off of the thrill of buying card packs and selling off the rares and secret rares she pulls, and does box set unboxing streams (although she only shows her hands when opening up the card packs, and even wears gloves when she does it to help obscure the shape of her fingertips)

* Third player to join the team, as she genuinely dislikes playing Turf or Anarchy, but does do it for the extra money and tickets at least, as she’s also addicted to the Shell-Out Machine, just like Low-Vis

🦑💛🎣 Paintball AKA Delta 🎣💛🦑

* Male inkling, he/they

* Natural ink color is a muddy yellow, but it can clear up to a more bolder yellow when they’re submerged in other Inkfishes’ ‘cleaner’ yellow ink.

* Hair style is the Spiky-Haired cut, but sometimes he does change it to the Buzz-Cut by just shaving off the spikes on top

* Noticeable facial feature is that the fangs on their beak are so long, that they peek through their lips, essentially causing them to have their mouth always agape so it doesn’t hurt as much. Additionally, their upper arms/upper legs/shoulders/back has some odd looking birthmarks, almost as if his natural biological ink is bleeding through his skin, and is dripping down their entire backside?……

* Krak-On Roller main, secondaries Explosher but on incredibly rare occasions

* Hails from Inkopolis Square?….. not even he himself is sure.

* Supposedly suffers from retrograde amnesia, as they lurk around Splatville at ‘dead’ hours, seemingly just ‘observing’ what’s going on in the area, with a almost dazed expression. It’s unknown where he even lives, as he’s almost always found at the Grizz Co building

* Profreshional Overfisher, as they’re UTTERLY OBSESSED with working at Grizz Co, as he works well over his usual full-time shifts to the point where the company had to tell him to literally go on vacation due to legal reasons. It is said that when out on the job, his normally dazed and meek behavior is RADICALLY changed to a more strict and intimidating aura, almost as if they’re a whole other person?…..

* Last member to join the team, as they are horrifically shy amongst others and is seemingly too scared to use his Kraken special for some odd reason?….. It is a miracle how Yamagiri managed to coax him into joining the team, as she does see potential in having a high ranking Salmon Runner who is INCREDIBLY acutely aware of his surroundings, when in the heat of battle

#these are just some very basic overall details for them! I haven’t decided on the rest of their gear (clothing + shoes) yet lol #I’ll definitely workshop them more later AND I want to explore more on their backgrounds and what species of IRL squid/octopus they are!#Splatoon #my silly cephalopods #yeah that’s going to be the O/C tag for them #vinyl scratching

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