#settle your scores band

[tomsmusictaste]

Settle Your Scores // How To Screw Up Your Future And Disappoint Your Loved Ones

#settle your scores #how to screw up your future and disappoint your loved ones #the wilderness #christian fisher #ricky uhlenbrock #caleb smith #patrick bryant #jeffrey borer #pop-punk #easycore #lyrics #pop-punk lyrics #easycore lyrics #sys #settle your scores lyrics #settle your scores band #lyric edit

[mutantleaguerecords]

🌈/250 Pre-order: HERE

#settle your scores #pop punk gifs #Easycore #easy core #Pop punk #punk #mutant league records #vinyl #band merch

[urhoneycombwitch]

my baby puts his mouth on me

foreword: okay this is kind of written as a bonus scene for i know what they call you bc that version of reader deals with being quiet, too! (not necessary to read that one first but does provide a bit of context as far as interpersonal setting.) sort-of AU that ignores most s4 events. anon request can b found here 💖

wc: 2.2k

cw: discussions of college, shy!reader, oral + fingering (R receiving), R has breasts and a V, weed usage, softdom!Eddie, shifting POV a bit soz 

___

Somewhere between Eddie’s late nights at band rehearsal and your early morning diner shifts, you’ve both been too exhausted to properly fuck when you do see each other, barely time for a spare handjob in the past week. You’re crawling out of your skin by the weekend, missing and craving Eddie in equal measure.

So when your Saturday off happens to line up with his, Eddie makes an afternoon of it- picnic lunch on the shore of Lover’s Lake, lazing around in the August sun while your food settles, then stripping down to your underclothes (even though the spot Eddie scored was totally isolated, you’re still leery about skinny dipping) and cooling off with a quick dip in the lake.

You’re both sprawled out in the blanketed back of Eddie’s van, sun-warmed bodies pressed together, legs dangling out of the open rear door; smoke hangs hazy in the air from the joint being shared. 

“Almost end of summer,” Eddie says, nestling his nose into your neck, arms wrapping around your middle. He can’t look at you, dread unfurling in his stomach but needing to ask, to clear the air, to prepare in case this is one of the last times he gets to touch you like this- “Thinkin’ of going to any colleges?”

”Maybe.” One of your hands slides into Eddie’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp while the other lifts the joint to your lips for a long drag. “They love me at the diner and I make good tips, so I’ll prob’ly keep doing that. Can’t afford anything fancy, anyways- I’ll likely just go to Hawkins Community.”

You still haven’t told him the full story of the mall fire, yet- or about the underground world simmering beneath the surface. He never pushes you to share more than you’re comfortable, which you’re grateful for, but he knows something happened: something that paints your sleep with dark night terrors, something that causes you to slip in the middle of conversations, mind spiraling where he can’t follow. 

For reasons you can’t fully explain to Eddie, college is real low on your priority list- you’ve dedicated this summer to reconnecting with base instincts (weed and Pretty Boy being at the top of the list).

Meanwhile, Eddie tries to still the vibrant thrum of his heart at the news of you staying local, possibly for the next few years; he lifts his head to press his lips against your collarbone. “You should go to college. Jus’ try it out, at least. You’re certainly smart enough.”

“Mmm-” you hum around the joint, another inhale-exhale of smoke before murmuring, “So are you. For the record. We could apply to be nerds together, if you want-”

With a sharp gasp, your sentence drops out of midair when Eddie kisses over your nipple, already peaking through the thin material of your bra. In his hair, your grip tightens, and Eddie groans.

In one fluid movement, he props himself into his elbows on either side of your torso, bottom half of his weight pinning you in place, plucking the smoldering joint from your grasp to dampen it into a nearby ashtray.

“Gonna be my little student,” Eddie says, wet kisses trailing down your neck, flash of teeth making you squirm. “Get you some academic… skirts. The ones with the pleats. Maybe some stockings…”

“You’re so- oh, fuck- dirty…” It’s hard to keep the admonishment in your voice as Eddie noses between your thighs, bumping at your clit through the thin cover of high-cut cotton.

“Mm-hmm.” He seems pleased with the already-visible wet patch, your core leaking steadily as he burrows deeper, until all his senses are blacked-out with nothing but the sharp tang of your honeyed arousal- who needs weed. He could get high off your smell alone.

Eddie suckles at your throbbing clit, purring encouragement low in his throat when your hips jolt forward. “And you love it.”

He’s one deep inhale from being completely pussy-drunk, mouthing sloppily at the junction where thigh meets pelvis, nibble fingers toying at the band of your underwear. He slides them down and off your legs, and you let him, wiggling in anticipation against the pressure he’s keeping you pinned with.

“Could take an electrician course.” Well aware of how close to the wire this conversation is sliding, you let the crown of your head tip back, staring at the van’s ceiling, handfuls of the flannel floor blanket squeezed into fists as you try getting one last word in- “You’re good with your h- hands.”

Said hand is cupping your bare sex, warm and wide between the V of your legs, other hand pushing your thigh back to spread you wide, obscene and on display how Eddie likes; embarrassment blooms hot in your chest as he runs a finger through your folds, slick practically loud against the far-off backdrop of forest sounds.

“What was that about my hands?” He’s teasing now, can hear it in his voice even though you can’t see the lazy grin it’s paired with; a long middle finger breaches your entrance, wet warmth swallowing the length greedily.

Your eyes flutter shut, sighing. There will be a time for arguments again but right now, with a second finger addition and Eddie’s mouth working you up, there’s no room for speech.

On your end, at least- Eddie’s proven on multiple occasions to be a master at multitasking, talking you through it while managing your pleasure, and this afternoon is no exception. His fingers curl expertly into the gummy front wall of your cunt, mouth running every second it’s not latched on to your pulsing button, dirty talk smooth and easy in his low timbre.

“Yeah, honey, that’s it. Fuck, you’re so hot. Can feel you squeezin’ around my fingers, y’so tight, angel, shit… like that- there you go…”

Etcetera. Until he’s bullied his way completely into the cradle of your legs, lying flat on his stomach to get as close as possible; until your cunt is spasming around the push and pull of his fingers, wet dripping and pooling into his palm and down your ass to the blanket below.

There’s a familiar tightness coiling in your stomach, thighs bracing around Eddie’s ears in anticipation of the unraveling. A pleasure-soaked sob gets caught in your throat, dull whine escaping instead through clenched teeth, grip on the flannel doubling until your knuckles creak in protest.

“Hey.” 

There’s a confusing lack of authority or command in Eddie’s voice; you sift through the brain fog of arousal, propping your weight up into your elbows to look down at him.

Eddie looks crazy. Debauched. Lips pink and spit-soaked, chin shimmering, pupils blown out with lust as he presses a chaste kiss to the wiry curls at your mound. “Kinda quiet up there. Everything okay?”

His thumb sweeps a comforting path up the soft skin of your thigh, the abrupt switch from animal to gentleness making your head swim. He’s still looking at you with those puppy-brown eyes, fingers still buried to the hilt but unmoving; you stammer out an excuse.

“Um- yeah. M’sorry. It’s just been awhile, since you’ve had me… like this.”

It’s the truth; over the last busy week in your lives, time has eroded some of what Eddie’s been working on building with you, bravery at making noise faded with the lessened practice time.

“No one else out here, ‘cept you and me, sweetheart.” Eddie’s coaxing his fingers back into steady rhythm, watching your face carefully for any signs of withholding. “Can make as much noise as you want. Lemme hear. Please?”

Usually, Eddie’s not so soft- a sharp crack of palm to ass, flesh jiggling as he draws all the noises he wants from you- but here, in the back of the van, heady weed and warm sun an intoxicating mixture as he asks you to melt for him. 

You obey. Let the floor take your upper body’s weight again as you fuck yourself on his fingers, hips lifted and seeking release. His mouth seals over your clit again, tip of his tongue lashing quick and precise against it, frizz of his curls tickling the insides of your legs as he shakes his head.

The weed is certainly a help as trapped noises heave from your chest, mouth falling open, lax and pliant with moans. “Oh, my god, Eddie. Fuck. Holy shit. Hah- right there, please, don’t stop-”

As if he would. Eddie moans in tandem with you, his own hips chasing the maddening pressure of the floorboards against the hard jut of his cock, leaking through the front of his boxers as he adds a third finger, spurred on by the fountain of breathy words this pulls from you-

“Oh god, oh god- f-fuck- Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie-”

Your speech devolves into a mindless, babbling chant of his name. That coil pulls taut, has you crunching forward in a half sit-up, hands fisting at the roots of Eddie’s hair to hold him in place (perhaps harsher than you intend but based on the way his hips stutter and grind, you can safely hazard a guess that he’s into it). 

The pattern breaks when he grazes his teeth against the pulsing nub in his mouth; you have just enough time to gasp out, “I- I’m coming, Eddie, shit, m’gonna come-” before the orgasm hits you full-force.

There isn’t room in your brain to hide all the noise that threatens to suffocate, so you let them all out, muscles tightening and flexing around every bright point of pleasure that he fucks you through. High-pitched whines, panting that wracks your lungs, a moan to top it all off that feels like it comes from your toes. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, sounding wrecked himself as he climbs back over your body, silver chain necklace and dark curls swinging in front of your blissed-out face. “Fuck, princess. That was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Bashfulness hasn’t fully settled in yet, you’re still loopy from the force of your pleasure, arms slipping over the boy’s freckled shoulders as he leans down to kiss you.

His tongue has a bright tang of you, as you lick into his mouth, one hand leaving his shoulder to trail down his chest. Dark ink whorls beneath your fingertips as you reach the scratchy trail of hair just before his boxers-

“Shit.” Eddie hisses, forehead thunking into yours when you palm the hard length of him, precum soaking through the fabric, softness of your palm contrasting with the damp and rough drag of cotton. His long lashes tickle your cheek, eyes fluttering closed, soft exhale magnified by close proximity as he slowly pushes into your hand. 

You’re mildly surprised he hasn’t come, yet- usually Eddie gets off on getting you off, then uses the rest of his energy to make you both come again, together. 

What Eddie hasn’t told you yet is that he’s done some prep of his own, this week: every night you haven’t spent in his bed, his own spit-slicked fist has taken him right to the edge, stopping just short of coming with a choking grip at the base. The idea was to build up his stamina a bit, to take advantage of lonely evenings in service to a future you.

A very noble cause that is quickly being forgotten as your hand moves with more intent and pressure against his aching cock- the drug haze is almost enough to have him completely at your mercy, to tuck his nose into the curve of your neck and find sweet release by way of your pretty palm.

But he recovers. Get just enough distance from the warmth of you to clear his mind and snake his own hand down between your bodies to capture your twisting wrist. 

The protest dies on your lips when Eddie brings your hand to his mouth, sucking your middle and index finger against the pad of his tongue, saturating your digits in spit.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do.” His eyes stay locked on yours, even as he guides your newly-wet fingers back down your bodies to rest atop your cunt. “You’re gonna touch yourself until you come. Again. And if I feel like you’re holding out on me with your noises, I’m gonna make it real difficult for you to make any noise. At all.”

A thrilling shiver races up your spine, goosebumps prickling in response to the shift in Eddie’s tone. His eyes flick to your lower lip, which he bites, unable to help himself, before following the path of your hand south.

There will be time for unwinding the past, for dreaming about the future. For now, there’s a boy between your legs and the feverish glow of summer calling your name. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

[steveseddie]

shootin’ hoops

steddie | rated: t | cw: none | 4,6k | tags: eddie munson lives, but his clumsy ass gets hurt, worried steve, minor injuries, sharing clothes, first kiss

for my stficbingo prompt: “‘m just tired.”

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie has always known basketball is evil. 

Over the years, he’s been smacked in the back of the head by plenty of basketballs, or smacked elsewhere by the dumb jocks that play the game. Only a few weeks ago, he was being chased by Jason Carver and his band of basketball-playing goons. 

So, basketball. Evil.

Eddie knew this, and somehow, he still agreed to “shoot hoops” with Steve Harrington.

Him! Eddie Munson! Agreeing to play the stupid game where you toss balls into laundry baskets! All because of his stupid crush on a boy.

If any of his friends could see him now, they would kick him out of the band and dethrone him as their Hellfire leader. 

Well, no. First, they would laugh at Eddie- currently starfished on the Harringtons’ basketball court having knocking himself out after the ball he threw missed the hoop completely, slammed against the board and bounced back straight into Eddie’s face.

Then and only then, after laughing themselves into a coughing fit at Eddie’s expense, would they kick him out and dethrone him. Can’t have your fearless leader succumbing to forced conformity or whatever. 

Luckily for Eddie, there’s no one here to witness how the mighty have fallen. 

Well. No one but Steve, the guy he’s pretty sure he’s in love with which is fucking great.

When he agreed to play, after Steve pleaded, pouted and hit Eddie with those deadly puppy eyes, he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to ogle Steve in his tiny little shorts, trick Steve into putting his hands on him to show him the right way to throw a ball and maybe even score a goal and shit and get a proud grin from Steve, maybe even a high five or a hug. 

But all Eddie has managed so far is to sweat through his clothes (Steve’s clothes actually- a pair of basketball shorts and an old Hawkins High swim meet shirt because the long sleeve and the ripped jeans Eddie showed up in weren’t basketball appropriate) and embarrass himself by getting hit square in the face by an evil basketball, probably giving himself a concussion in the process. 

Because- fucking ouch! His head is pounding right now.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Steve’s sneakers squeak against the court as he jogs towards him. “Eddie, Jesus Christ!” He gasps, dropping to his knees next to him. “Fuck, man, are you okay?” 

Eddie groans when he hears the concern in Steve’s voice. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Eddie knows he’s flushing bright red and it’s not because of the midday sun beating down on them. 

“Eddie, come on. Talk to me, man,” Steve urges, slightly shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Just leave me here to die,” Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes tightly shut, partly because moving his face hurts, but also because he doesn’t want to look at Steve right now. 

Steve huffs, shaking Eddie’s shoulder a little more insistently. “Nope, no way. I didn’t drag your ass back from the Upside Down to let you die here. Sit up, come on.” 

He tugs on Eddie’s arm, leaving him no choice but to sit up. Eddie hugs his knees against his chest, still not opening his eyes. He feels one of Steve’s hands settle on his back, holding him up in that position. 

“Good, that’s good,” Steve encourages, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie’s back. Because of that touch, Eddie can feel the flush spreading all the way up to his ears. He squeezes his eyes even tighter, even if it makes his face hurt, but Steve isn’t having it. “Now open your eyes for me.”

Eddie shakes his head, which is a terrible idea because it sends flashes of pain through his head, all the way down to his neck. 

“Come on, Eds, let me look at you,” Steve purrs in a sweet voice that settles deep in Eddie’s lower stomach. Then Steve’s other hand cups his cheek, gently turning his face towards him. “Please,” he says, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s cheek.

And if there’s one thing that today proved is that Eddie can’t say no to a pleading Steve. It’s what got him in this mess in the first place. 

So his eyes flutter open. He has to blink a few times to get rid of the blurriness at the edges of his vision but even then it’s hard to miss Steve’s big, worried eyes when they’re right in front of him. 

“There he is,” Steve exhales softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a relieved half-smile. “Hi.” 

“H-hey,” Eddie stammers out. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes how close their faces are. Steve’s hand rubbing Eddie’s back soothingly while the other one is still cupping his jaw certainly don’t help. 

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, I’m great! Just wishing the Upside Down would open up and swallow me whole so I can like, die of embarrassment there,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve makes an exasperated noise, either because he didn’t get a real answer to his question or because it’s too soon for Eddie to be joking about dying in the Upside Down. Eddie sighs, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I’m fine, man, just hurt.” 

“Where does it hurt?” 

“My dignity.”

This time the joke does land and it makes Steve snicker. “Since when do you have any?” 

“Ouch. Kicking a man while he’s down, Harrington? Shame on you,” Eddie says with a laugh, which is quickly followed by a wince. “Shit, okay, maybe my dignity isn’t the only thing hurting. My whole head is fucking pounding, I think I hit it against the ground after the ball knocked me down.” 

Steve’s face pulls into a frown and the hand that was on Eddie’s back moves to the back of his head. “You’re not bleeding, thank God, but you could still have a concussion.”

“Of fucking course,” Eddie mutters, resting his head on his knees.

“We can get you something cold or I can drive you to the ER if you’d rather get checked out.”

Eddie starts to shake his head and gets dizzy so he aborts the movement, raising his hand to wave Steve off instead. “No, no ER. Some frozen peas will do the trick, good sir.”

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay, but if you start talking nonsense, I’m taking you there. I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not.”

Eddie gives him a lazy smirk. “How will you know I’m talking nonsense because of the concussion and not because I’m, you know, me.” 

“I know your kind of nonsense, Munson,” he says with a snort. The words sound almost fond to Eddie’s ears. “Now, let’s get you inside. I’m gonna help you up. Slowly, okay? You might feel dizzy or even like you’re going to throw up so- careful.”

Eddie squints at Steve. “You sure know a shitload about concussions, Harrington.” 

Steve makes a face. “That’s because I’ve had like, three. And surprisingly enough only one of them was Upside Down related.”

“Damn, dude.”

“Yeah, but at least you know I’ll take good care of you.” Steve shrugs. “Okay, come on.”

He stands up in one swift movement and offers both of his hands to Eddie, who grabs them and lets himself be pulled to his feet. As soon as he stands, his vision goes black and he sways forward. He would’ve face-planted if Steve didn’t catch him by his elbows.

“Woah, I got you,” he tells him, breath ghosting over Eddie’s face.

“Just need a minute,” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing his thumbs over Eddie’s forearms, which only makes him feel more dizzy. 

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s face is right there again and he gets lost in his hazel eyes for a few more seconds before he feels ready to move. “Okay, I’m good.”

Steve nods, letting go of his arms but staying close to Eddie as he starts walking towards the house, just in case. They walk past the evil basketball and Eddie glares at it. He thinks about kicking it, just to give it a taste of its own medicine, but knowing his luck, the ball would probably bounce against the wall and hit Eddie again, so he just ignores it. 

In the kitchen, Steve heads for the freezer while Eddie flops down on a chair and folds his arms over the table, letting his head rest over them.

He jumps when he suddenly feels something cold press against the back of his head. “Motherfucker!” When he looks up, Steve is giving him a sheepish smile and holding a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Dick,” Eddie says, snatching the peas from his hand and pressing them against the back of his head. He still flinches, but at least he’s prepared this time. 

“Is that better?” 

Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. The cold helps with the throbbing, but his head still feels like it was put through the wringer.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I take a quick shower?” Steve asks. Eddie glances at him, who’s eyeing him back warily and biting his lip, probably worried about leaving him unsupervised. 

“I think I’ll live, man,” Eddie says with a snort.  

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He stands up to leave but hesitates. “Call if you need anything.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he smirks up at him. “You’re gonna come to my rescue dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel? I might call you just to see that.” 

Steve’s cheeks flare the brightest Eddie’s ever seen. “Never mind, you can die,” he says with no heat at all before turning around and leaving Eddie alone in the kitchen. 

This time when Eddie laughs it doesn’t make his head hurt nearly as much, which means that the frozen peas might be helping. He presses the bag against his face next, trying to dull the throbbing there as well. He sits there at the kitchen table, moving the frozen peas back and forth from his face to the back of his head until he starts getting tired and his eyelids start feeling a little heavy. 

He drops his head on his arms again and instantly starts to doze off. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, not if he has a concussion, but he’s tired, and taking a nap right now sounds so good-

But just as he’s about to, Steve’s voice drags him away from the brink of sleep. “Eddie, hey, Eds.” 

Eddie burrows further into his arms, trying to ignore Steve who shakes his shoulder a little frantically. “Eddie?” 

“I’m fine,” Eddie mutters, twisting his head to the side, towards Steve, but keeping his eyes closed. “‘m just tired. Want to take a nap.”

“Uh, yeah, no. No sleeping while concussed,” Steve says in that bitchy tone of his. “Eds, come on.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Steve nearly growls. “Eddie Munson, I will drag your ass to the ER if you don’t open your eyes right now.” 

“Fuck, you’re bossy,” Eddie huffs, but he opens his eyes, giving Steve a look that’s supposed to say happy?

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, sorry for not wanting you to die on me again.”

It’s probably not Steve’s intention, but Eddie immediately feels bad. He might not remember a lot of what happened after the hell bats attacked him, but he knows that at some point his heart stopped beating from all the blood he lost and Steve had to perform CPR on him to bring him back. And unlike Eddie, he probably remembers everything about it. It’s not fair that Eddie is making him relive that kind of worry right now. 

So he forces his head up, blinking his eyes a few times so they adjust and apologizes. “Sorry.”

Steve’s face softens almost immediately and he waves Eddie off with a shake of his head. Droplets of water hit Eddie’s face and he notices that Steve’s hair is wet, water steadily dripping to the floor from the few strands that hang over his eyes. Eddie has seen Steve after a shower before but he always dries and styles his hair before coming out of the bathroom which means he skipped his hair routine today, probably so he wouldn’t have to leave Eddie alone longer than necessary. 

“How’s the head?” Steve asks, brushing his hair back with a hand. 

“Hurts but the peas are helping. Or they were. I don’t know where they are now.” Eddie frowns when he realizes he can no longer feel them against the back of his head, they must have fallen to the floor when he started to doze off. Oh well. “How was the shower?” 

Steve snorts. “Quick,” he says. “Do you wanna take one?” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “I want to but there’s a big chance that I will fall in the shower and crack my head open if I do.” 

He almost wants to risk it just to get rid of some of the sweat, but then he thinks about falling in the shower and Steve barging in to help him while he’s naked on the floor and quickly changes his mind. There’s only so much embarrassment he can take in a day. 

Steve nods in understanding. “Maybe later then.” He jerks his head toward the door that leads to the living room. “Do you want to move to the couch? Just because you can’t take a nap doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.” 

“Sure, man.” 

When Steve stands up, Eddie’s eyes end up at the same level as his shirt. Which, thanks to the familiar Black Sabbath logo, Eddie realizes is actually his.

“Is that my shirt?” Eddie asks even if he knows the answer. Steve would never own a Black Sabbath shirt, not to mention Eddie remembers turning his room upside down looking for his the other day only to give up when he couldn’t find it- because it was at Steve’s house apparently. 

Steve looks down at himself and his eyes widen like he’s only realizing now that he’s wearing it. 

“Oh, um, yeah, you left it here the other day. I washed it and left it in my closet to like, give it back to you, but I guess I accidentally grabbed it just now,” Steve explains, running his hand through his hair a few times. 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, big eyes staring up at Steve in his goddamned shirt. 

“Do you- do you want it back?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. It looks better on you.” And it’s true- Steve looks good in Eddie’s clothes. “Besides, it’s only fair,” he adds, gesturing down at himself, still wearing Steve’s swim meet shirt and old basketball shorts. 

Steve chuckles, ducking his head and saying a little shyly, “Well, those look good on you too.” 

Eddie twirls some hair around his finger and tugs it in front of his face to hide his blush. He’s ridiculously bad at accepting compliments, especially when they come from Steve.“

“Okay,” Steve says, remembering why he stood up in the first place. “Come on, to the couch.” 

Standing up doesn’t make Eddie as dizzy this time and he manages to stay on his feet without Steve’s help. Slowly, he drags his feet to the living room and then flops down on the couch, tilting sideways until his head comes in contact with the cushions. 

“No sleeping,” Steve grumbles when he sees Eddie’s eyes start to slip shut. 

“I’m not!” Eddie says, his eyes flying open and finding Steve raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I am, but you gotta help me stay awake, man. Put on a movie or something.” 

With a frown, Steve says, “I don’t think you should be staring at screens or any bright lights right now.” Then he perks up. “Wait, I have an idea!” 

And then, without explaining any further, he leaves. 

In his absence, Eddie sighs and burrows his head deeper into the cushions, but before he can even think of taking a nap, Steve comes back. 

“I think I might be having like a concussion-induced hallucination because there’s no way that you, Steve Harrington, actually own a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring,” Eddie says when he sees the worn paperback that Steve is holding in his hand. 

Steve glances down at it. “It’s actually Dustin’s, man. Kid gave it to me forever ago, but I never read it. It’s not really my thing, but it’s yours.”

“It most definitely is, Stevie boy,” Eddie says, “but I don’t think reading will help my head any more than staring into a screen.”

“You won’t be reading, Eds. I’ll read to you,” Steve says with a shrug. “Now, lift your head.” 

Eddie pushes himself from his lying down position so Steve can sit next to him, but before he can sit upright, Steve tsks and pushes his head back down so it’s resting on his lap, the right side of his face coming in contact with the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. 

Eddie is too stunned to protest or move, but he does subtly pinch himself, a little suspicious that he might’ve slipped into some kind of concussion dream.

With one of his hands, Steve holds the book open and the other finds its way to Eddie’s hair. He’d tied it up in a bun when they started playing, but it’s mostly undone by now. Steve carefully tugs on his hair tie, freeing the rest, so he can run his fingers through the curls.

It sends shivers down Eddie’s spine, makes him feel like he’s going to melt through the couch and into a puddle on the floor. He can’t stop the whiny noise that slips through his lips. 

Steve’s hand freezes. “Did I hurt you?

Embarrassed, Eddie just shakes his head no.

“So this is okay?” Steve asks, scratching his scalp. Eddie just nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth some other embarrassing noise will slip out.

Eddie can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good.”

After that, Steve clears his throat and starts reading. 

Eddie quickly realizes that Steve didn’t think his plan through- he heavily underestimated how soothing his voice is, how comfortable his thigh is and how good his hand feels in Eddie’s hair. 

Within minutes, Eddie feels himself starting to doze off again, but before he can, Steve jostles his thigh, the movement waking Eddie up.

“Hey, talk to me so I know you didn’t die.”

Eddie groans, pinching Steve’s leg. “I hate you.”

Steve chuckles softly. “That’ll do.” 

After that Eddie starts to focus on the words that Steve is reading and it makes it a little easier to stay awake, mostly because he can’t help but correct Steve when he starts butchering the names of the characters and locations in ways that Eddie can’t begin to comprehend. It’s not until a snigger slips past Steve’s lips when Eddie tells him that it’s “Bilbo, Steve! Not Bobbin!” that Eddie realizes he must be doing it on purpose so that Eddie will talk to him. 

After a while, Eddie stops feeling sleepy and his head stops hurting as much so, instead of just correcting Steve’s pronunciation, he offers commentary about the book here and there and quotes the book as Steve reads it, which earns him a fond nerd and a playful tug on his hair.

After a few chapters, Steve complains about his voice getting tired, but Eddie isn’t having it, he wants to listen to Steve read some more. 

“You owe me, man,” Eddie says.

Steve snorts. “Me? I’m nursing you back to health, why do I owe you?” 

“Because you made me play with you!”

Eddie can hear Steve’s eye roll. “I didn’t, you could’ve easily said no, Eddie.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort because the idea of him saying no to Steve is completely ridiculous. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he blurts out, “Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on.” 

Silence falls over them. Steve drops the book on the couch. His other hand freezes in Eddie’s hair. 

“What?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie realizes what he just said and his whole body goes rigid. Oh shit, oh fuck.

“Nothing,” he says meekly. 

“No, you said-”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did, Eddie,” Steve says, annoyed. Annoyed at him. Eddie bites down on a whimper- this is his worst nightmare, the thing that stopped him in his tracks every time he so much as considered telling Steve how he felt. Suddenly, he can’t keep his head on Steve’s thigh, he can’t bear to have his fingers in his hair. Eddie sits up abruptly, his vision swims, he feels sick. 

“I, I have a concussion, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Eddie mutters, sitting on the far end of the couch, away from Steve.

“Eddie-”

“Steve, please just- Ignore it, please,” Eddie pleads, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands coming up to cover his face. 

“I can’t ignore it-”

Of course he can’t. Your friend having a crush on you isn’t something you can just ignore. God, Eddie really fucked up. 

“Fuck.” He squeezes his palms against his eyes until they hurt. 

The couch dips as Steve moves- is he leaving? Eddie’s heart falls as he wonders, but a moment later, Steve is sitting right next to him, their thighs touching and their arms brushing.

“Eddie, I don’t want to ignore it,” Steve says, and his voice is unbearably soft. He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore, maybe he wasn’t annoyed at all, maybe there’s some truth to what people say about Eddie being dramatic.

“Why?” Eddie asks warily, but God help him, also slightly hopeful. 

Steve scoots even closer, bumping their shoulders together. “The guy I’ve liked for weeks just said he has a crush on me, why would I want to ignore that?”

The words have Eddie whipping his head back to stare at Steve so fast that he goes dizzy. His face pulls into a grimace. “Shit.” 

“You okay?”

Eddie waves him off. “Did you just say you like me? Because if you didn’t, maybe I do need to go to the ER because I’m hearing things,” he says, his wide eyes blinking at Steve.

He gives Eddie a sweet smile. “I did say that. I do like you.”

His eyes go even wider. “Holy shit.”

“Do you like me?” Steve asks, a little shy. “Or was that just the concussion talking?”

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “No, nope, definitely me. Maybe the concussion made me say it, and for a moment there I thought I fucked up, but I meant it, Steve, I like you so much that I ignored everything I stand for to fucking shoot hoops with you. I don’t even care that I got a concussion because of it!”

Instead of smiling like Eddie expects him to, Steve seems troubled. Eddie wonders if maybe he said too much. “What?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t kiss you while you have a concussion,” Steve says, biting his bottom lip and having the nerve to glance at Eddie’s mouth. “But I really want to.”

Eddie’s stomach flip flops and he needs a few seconds to remember how to form words because Steve wants to kiss him! “Ever heard of the expression kiss it better?” He asks, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it applies here,” he says, but Eddie can’t help but notice how he’s started leaning in.

“We can still try,” Eddie says, leaning in too, knowing that Steve is about to break. He thinks back on the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips he gave Eddie when he asked him to play basketball with him and decides to give it a try, batting his eyelashes at Steve and sticking his bottom lip out. “I really want you to kiss me, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his breath leaves him in a whoosh, Eddie can feel it against his face. “Fuck, you were right.”

“About?”

“Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on,” Steve says, echoing Eddie’s words. 

Eddie starts to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat when Steve cups his cheeks and closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together. Eddie whines instead, low in his throat, his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and sinking them both back onto the couch. They’re touching in so many places, but Eddie wants more, so he opens his mouth and hopes that Steve takes the invitation. 

And he does- licking the roof of Eddie’s mouth, and angling his head to kiss him deeper. And it’s so good, it’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt, and for a moment, he actually worries that he knocked himself out on the court earlier and this is just some elaborate coma dream. 

But Steve feels so real- his lips against his, his shoulders under Eddie’s hands, the sinful noises that he keeps making. 

Eddie swings his leg over Steve’s lap, straddling him and breaking the kiss for the first time so that he can grin down at him. 

“I think we found another way to make sure I don’t fall asleep,” he says, eyes roaming over Steve- his red bitten lips stretched into a dopey grin, his hooded eyes that keep darting to Eddie’s mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, the exposed collarbone thanks to how worn the collar of Eddie’s shirt is, the mole-covered skin there that’s just begging to be kissed, bitten, marked up. 

“I changed my mind,” Eddie says, picturing what a love bite on Steve’s chest would look like and wanting to get on with it.

Steve’s hands freeze where they came to rest on Eddie’s thighs, his pinkie brushing against the bare skin after his shorts rode up. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?” He asks, earnest eyes darting over Eddie’s face, looking for any sign that he’s in pain. 

“Not about this,” Eddie says with a little shake of his head that makes his bangs fall over his eyes. He tugs the collar of Steve’s shirt down- his shirt. “I changed my mind about wanting my shirt back.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips tugging up in a smirk. “Well,” he says, voice dropping low, his fingers teasing the hem of the shorts that Eddie is wearing. “As long as you give me my clothes back too.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, warmth pooling low in his stomach. “It’s only fair.” Then he remembers something else. “You know, I could use that shower that I passed on earlier.” 

Steve raises his eyebrow. 

“But I still feel a little dizzy,” Eddie says, putting the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting maid, waggling his eyebrows at the same time. “Think you can give me a hand?” 

Steve grins. “Yeah, I can do that.”

They both try to stand up at the same time, and Steve almost sends Eddie toppling to the floor but luckily manages to catch him before Eddie ends up with another concussion. 

After that, they make their way upstairs, to Steve’s bathroom, kissing and touching and leaving a trail of clothes behind them. 

Right before Steve closes the bathroom door, Eddie’s eyes catch the basketball shorts Steve just took off of him, discarded on the hallway floor and he thinks- 

Maybe basketball isn’t so evil after all. 

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #there's been so much basketball talk in the 911 fandom that i couldn't stop thinking about steve convincing eddie to play with him #only for it to go wrong lmao hope you like it! #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes #stficbingo

[harmonicakai]

Mr. Know It All

Pairing: Taehyun x Reader

Summary: When you finally find yourself sleeping over at Taehyun’s dorm, you start to wonder if you and him could ever be something more serious.

Tropes: friends with benefits, mutual pining, angst, fluff, college AU, tutor!taehyun

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of sex (mdni), LOTS of overthinking

A/N: This is unedited and I wrote it all in one go lol <3

"And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before" —Songbird, Fleetwood Mac

Taehyun doesn’t know how to tell you that things aren't and never have been casual between the two of you.

It started one rainy afternoon after a study session in the library. The two of you had run through the deluge into the safety of his dorm room, and when he peeled off his wet clothes to change, you didn’t look away.

So, one semester later, right after you’ve finished moaning his name, he struggles to find the words to ask you to stay the night.

He hates watching you gather up your things and leave, refusing to be held by him for even a moment after both of you have finished what you came here for.

“Y/N,” he manages to get out, his voice barely above a whisper. You turn away from the door, your hair still messy, eyeliner smudged. “It’s raining.”

It’s code for “I love you. Please don’t leave.”

“Right,” you say, glancing out the window. Lightning flashes throughout the small dorm, with the crash of thunder following shortly after. Only a fool would leave in this weather. “I don’t have an umbrella.”

“You can stay,” Taehyun says, patting the bed beside him. You nod, crossing over and settling under the warm blanket. Despite how often you’re here in this position, it’s never under these circumstances.

“It seems like the rain is always bringing us together,” you laugh. You’re careful not to say anything loud enough for his roommate to hear through the walls, although in retrospect, you’ve never considered your volume when in bed with Taehyun before.

It’s awkward. Before any of this started, he was just the guy who helped you out with your math problem sets. Add in the perfect distraction from actually sitting down and having a conversation with each other, and you barely knew anything about him.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, already sliding off of the twin sized mattress with a pillow in his arms. “I don’t want to bother you.”

You note how between sleeping next to you and on the floor, he’s decided that the latter is more bearable. 

Usually, the two of you are in perfect sync. He knows how to please you better than any other guy you’ve been with, making sure to do things the exact way that you like. Sometimes, you worry that he doesn’t think the same of you.

Are there other girls? You don’t see him as often as you’d like to, but maybe he’s just busy with other things. Kang Taehyun, the chronic overachiever and golden boy of SNU. What would he even want with a girl like you?

Surely, he spends all of his free time studying and going to band practice, you tell yourself.

At this point, your racing thoughts are never going to let you fall asleep.

“Taehyun,” you say, hoping you aren’t waking him up. You haven’t taken your eyes off the ceiling since he moved to the floor, half out of guilt that he’s even down there, and half worried you’ll catch yourself staring at him while he sleeps.

“Yeah?” he answers, his voice low. You wonder what it sounds like when he sings with his band. Maybe, if he asks you to, you’ll go to one of his concerts soon.

You hesitate, wondering whether or not he’ll say yes. “Can you come back up here?”

When you hear him gather his things and stand up, you finally let out the breath that you've been holding. Within seconds, he’s climbing in next to you, his body warm and strong.

“Are you cold?” he asks, pulling the covers up over your collarbone. “Sorry. I think the heater is broken and I haven’t had time to call maintenance.”

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly,” you confirm, although the temperature is fine. In fact, it might even be a little too hot.

“I can, uh,” Taehyun starts. You’ve never heard him stutter before. “I can hold you, if you want. That might help.”

“That would be nice,” you say, mentally cringing at how formal the exchange is. He positions himself behind you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back.

“Is this better?” he asks, his voice still shaky. You worry that this level of intimacy is making him uncomfortable, but he nestles his head over your shoulder in a way that makes you finally stop overthinking. Maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way you do.

“Yes,” is all you manage to squeak out. He lets out a quiet laugh in relief before pressing a kiss into your shoulder blade. The small gesture sends a shockwave through your body.

“You’re cute,” he says, snuggling into you further. Is this really what things would be like if you didn’t run away after every hook up? It seems like second nature to him, making you question whether it actually means anything.

Still, he doesn’t bother to touch you now like he’s always dying to after you show up to class in a short skirt or send him a risky text when you know he’s running office hours. 

“I can hear you thinking,” he mutters, startling you. You break away from his grasp to turn and face him, his piercing eyes already fixed on you. “Is something wrong, Y/N?”

“No,” you attempt to lie, although your face says otherwise. Taehyun feels you stiffen in his arms, your gaze locked on his.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he concedes, his voice icy and monotone. “But I know something is wrong.”

How could he know that? What could Taehyun possibly know about you besides what you look like with your clothes off?

When he first got assigned to tutor you, he had scolded you for being late, and again for being unorganized. If you don’t open up to him now, he might actually revert to the same cold demeanor as before. 

Even worse, he might stop meeting up with you. With the school year ending next month, you’ll have no excuse to see each other anymore. The thought of being alone again brings you to tears.

Taehyun’s expression softens at the sight of you breaking down. “I’m sorry,” you cry, burying your face into his chest. His hand reaches up to stroke your hair, the other gently rubbing your back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”

“I do,” he sighs. You pull back just enough to look up at him through teary eyes. “I pushed things between us too far. I should’ve known that you wanted to keep things casual. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stare at him, awestruck at how wrong he is. You want nothing more than to know anything and everything about him.

Still, when you search for the right words to explain this, your brain draws a blank. The only thing you can do is cup his face and kiss him, your nerves finally settling when he melts into you.

You’ve kissed him hundreds of times by now, but this one feels like the first time.

It feels like forever before he pulls away from you, a wide grin on his face. “Please, please, please let me take you out to dinner.”

“Okay,” you smile back, unable to contain your giddiness. “I’d like that very much.”

“Tomorrow night?” he proposes. His eagerness makes you giggle. He might be the busiest person on campus, but he’ll clear his entire schedule if it means he gets to spend time with you.

“Sure,” you agree. “It’s a date. If we ever manage to get out of bed, that is.”

Taehyun laughs a little before pulling you into another kiss. By now, the rain has stopped, but you aren’t going anywhere.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @beomgyubabybear @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don't want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to make a note <3

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt fic #txt x reader #taehyun x reader #taehyun #kang taehyun #txt taehyun #taehyun fluff #taehyun smut #taehyun angst #txt fluff #txt angst #txt smut #taehyun imagines

[sophaeros]

arctic monkeys for clash magazine, april 2010

ON THE ROAD WITH… ARCTIC MONKEYS

Words by Simon Harper Photos by Jason Joyce

As Britain’s favourite band headed out on the European leg of their ‘Humbug’ tour, Clash discovered that Arctic Monkeys were less sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, and more cakes, ping-pong and Coco Pops…

The city of Offenbach, about twenty minutes south of Frankfurt, was once noted for its abundant leather industry, and is currently the base of the German weather service, but such claims don’t negate the fact that it’s basically a sterile, grey, typically German suburban borough. The arrival of a fleet of trucks and buses, carrying Arctic Monkeys, their crew and stage gear, heralded the notion that for one night only, Offenbach may just come alive with suitably bustling energy.

Offenbach’s Stadthalle is the smallest venue on the Monkeys’ three-week tour of Western Europe. The band have been through Portugal, Spain and France, and know how to kill time during the day while everyone works around them, building the stage for that night’s show. And so, when Clash finds them, upstairs in the Stadthalle’s back rooms, they’re in the middle of a fierce ping-pong match – the game scores being tallied up across the tour. The table, it transpires, is the band’s own, and follows them wherever they go. A set of football goals lie waiting for action, but the small white balls prove more enticing.

It’s a cold, February Tuesday, and these back rooms are where the band will spend the whole day.

Previous encounters with Arctic Monkeys have been somewhat tough – notoriously reticent and famously press-shy, there’s a tangible wall that surrounds them, which is seemingly hard to penetrate. Suspicious stares cut through you, while succinct answers frustrate you. Today, however, they couldn’t be more accommodating.

Clash sits with the quartet in the band-only room, where their personal equipment is kept in a vertical flight case of drawers, and a small fridge is at hand for cold beers. Nick O’Malley, Jamie Cook and Matt Helders sprawl on the leather couches, while Alex Turner perches on the table, often pacing the room, then escaping in search of a lighter. We’re here to talk about life on the road. What starts as an interview eventually descends into louche conversation; daft chat punctuated by much laughter. Perhaps they’re glad to see a friendly face; perhaps the monotony of touring makes them crave any respite; perhaps there’s nothing better to do in Offenbach.

Is being on tour like real life, or does it feel like you’re detached from what real life is?

Matt: It’s probably real life. It doesn’t seem like it’s too separate or miles away.

When you go home is that normality or is it just a continuation of what you do on the road?

Matt: I don’t find it hard to settle back and switch between the two.

Nick: You feel like you’re unemployed when you go home properly.

Like you’ve got nothing to do?

Nick: Yeah, or like if you’ve got a couple of weeks off.

Matt: Like school holidays.

Alex: Does that make this school then?

Matt: Yeah, but it’s like basketball camp or something you enjoy.

How do your friendships cope with life on the road? 

Matt: It’s fine.

Nick: Yeah. We know how to not annoy each other. We’ve never really had friction, because we’ve all got a similar outlook on how not to annoy people, I suppose, so there’s never really been any problems.

Alex: (Mock nastily) That’s what you think, mate.

Nick: (Laughs) I suppose if you see the same people every day, after a while you’re bound to get a bit annoyed, but as long as you keep in your mind that it’s just because of the situation and not because you don’t like the person, then you can kind of avoid outbursts that you might not mean. It’s never really been a problem so far.

Do you notice a huge cultural difference between touring Europe and America? 

Alex: Even between places in Europe. I mean, often, to be honest, certainly at this stage that we’re at, days like today aren’t uncommon, where you’re out of town and you don’t even really see where you are, as I’m sure you’re aware. But you can really tell the difference just in the show, from the crowd. We did Madrid and Barcelona over t’weekend, and last week Portugal, and they were really excitable and there was like a frenzy going on when we were playing. Whereas I think crowds elsewhere can be a bit more reserved, can’t they, depending on where it is. I reckon one of the best crowds on this tour was a gig we did last week in Porto. We’ve never played there before. There was this real appreciation or something just from the start. You can just sort of feel it, can’t you; ‘We’re all here to have a laugh’.

Alex lives in the States now. Have any of you considered moving to somewhere you’ve visited on tour?

Matt: Yeah. It’s good that you do get to see places that you might consider moving, like Berlin. I could imagine living there.

Does living apart make you appreciate each other more when you’re back together?

Jamie: [Long pause] Mmmm…yeah.

Gone are the days when you’re living round the corner from each other.

Alex: Yeah, I suppose that’s true. You’ve got to sort of organise to be in one place. I suppose that is a bit of an inconvenient drag.

Are there any essential items that you have to pack before you come out on tour?

Jamie: One of them rolly things that gets fluff of your coat. (All laugh)

Alex: I feel like you’re a lot better equipped than the rest of us with things like that.

Yeah, you’re looking very bobble-less.

Jamie: Ah, cheers. Yeah, I did it this morning actually. A quick roll.

Matt: A skipping rope – except I forgot it this time. I’ve lost mine.

Nick: DVDs, stuff like that.

A ping-pong table?

Jamie: A ping-pong table is essential actually. I don’t think we’d go on tour without that.

Alex: Some kind of series…

Matt: A box-set.

Alex: Kinda really discovered that this last year. It was summat I’d never really got into before.

Nick: Any HBO series.

Alex: (Laughs) Yeah. I’ve really learned to appreciate that sort of continuum, because you can follow a thread.

Matt: You know what you need to do the next day.

What have you been watching?

Alex: We’ve got into Deadwood a bit on the last tour. That’s what’s been missing, I think, for me on this tour, some sort of thing like that.

Have you done The Wire?

Alex: Yeah.  I went Wire mad on that tour. I just got so greedy. I get so greedy with them things.

Matt: I couldn’t catch up.

Jamie: Yeah, he ditched everyone. I got ditched on t’second series!

Matt: Six in t’morning, I could hear him.

Jamie: You’d get up and that [theme] song would be on. It’d just be crisps all over, a bottle of…

Nick: ‘Wire Beast’s been up all night again!’

Alex: ‘Where’d you get that dressing gown from?’

Jamie: Just laying there with crumbs all over him.

Have you ever had any scares at customs? 

Nick: I got searched yesterday actually.

Matt: It was your squeaky wheels, just as I’d said. I said, ‘Them wheels are gonna attract attention.’

Nick: In Germany. A very thorough search, but luckily no glove action.

Jamie: They probably wanted to mend your wheels for you.

Matt: ‘I’ve got summat for that, some GT85.’

Nick: They were really suspicious of me. They really took everything apart and didn’t put it back as neat as I’d put it in.

Alex: At this end, yesterday?

Nick: Yeah, when we arrived in ‘Munchen’.

Alex: They’re quite, like, strict, aren’t they, Bavarian authorities.

Nick: Yeah. They had a look at me belt, everything. All me case and bag. Took everything apart. Then he were like, ‘Where have you come from?’ I went, ‘Barcelona’. He were like, ‘Have you had any contact with drugs in Barcelona?’ I went, ‘No.’ He went, ‘What do you do?’ I said, ‘I’m in a band.’ And he went, ‘Ah’, and then, like, swabbed everything.

Alex: When I got in t’car yesterday, the fella were like, [German accent] ‘If you like to do drugs, do not try and do it in Bavaria.’

American customs scare me most. 

Matt: Yeah, it’s a load of questions.

Alex: ‘What are you doing here?’

Jamie: New Zealand were quite funny. We all got pulled…

Matt: We had to sit in them chairs for a bit…

Jamie: And this guy was asking us directly the last time we ever did drugs. Then someone came over who worked for us…and he soon disappeared rather fast. We were fine. (All laugh)

Alex: I’ve come to quite enjoy the American customs people. (All laugh)

Matt: They’ve always got weird names.

Alex: They’re like, [American accent] ‘So you���re in a band, huh?’ You go, ‘Yeah, yeah.’ ‘What do you do in the band?’ ‘Oh, I’m the singer.’ ‘Yeah? You don’t look like a singer to me.’

Nick: ‘Do you sound like Coldplay?’

Alex: Yeah, ‘What kind of music do you guys play?’

Jamie: ‘Do you sound like Staind?’ I went like, ‘Staind? I know them… Fuckin’ hell!’ It took me ages. ‘Yeah, yeah, we sound a bit like Staind.’ When he said it I were like, ‘Yeah, a bit.’

You’ve said before that you wanted to try and get an album out this year. Do you get any time on the road to do any work on that?

Alex: Not really. That’s a bit of a pain in the arse, not being able to rehearse and work stuff out. I don’t think I write very good songs on t’road. They’re all a bit wonky. You get back and you’re like, ‘Hmmm’.

Does it detach you from what we were talking about earlier, ‘real life’? Does it detach you from the things that you want to be writing about?

Alex: I dunno. You can still use your imagination, but I just think, yeah, in your surroundings there’s always about to be something that’s going to happen. You can’t think. I always write wherever I am, but I dunno if the things that come out when you’re touring around always have the shelf life that the other things do.

Have you got any songs earmarked for the next album?

Alex: Yeah. I mean, there’s some ideas, but we haven’t really had the chance to get out the fine toothed comb.

‘Humbug’ was a departure in sound from your previous albums – do you think you’ll continue in that direction, maybe bring Josh Homme in again?

Alex: Not sure, really. We would like to do something with Josh again – it was terrific for us to go on that adventure – but whether or not it’s this next thing, I’m not sure. And also, like, he’s busy! (Laughs) He’s got a schedule himself, doesn’t he?

You went to record over in his place, so do you think next time you’ll have him over to...

Alex: High Green? (Laughs) Homme in High Green? I quite fancy that.

Nick: He’d look like a superhero in High Green, all the bad genetics there are in High Green. He’d look amazing.

Matt: He’d be the biggest man there.

You’ve released a couple of singles exclusively through Oxfam. What made you decide to do that? 

Jamie: Laurence and Jonny at Domino came to us with that idea – a great idea for the charity reason, and then cos Woolworths and stuff had shut down, but there were always an Oxfam.

Alex: Like, in towns where there perhaps aren’t, like, an Our Price or something.

Do you have to think of more creative ways to get your records out there?

Jamie: Yeah, rather than just sat at home.

Matt: They should think about making the journey exciting – paint paths a nice colour to the record shops.

Alex: The yellow brick road.

Matt: Something that makes people want to walk to a record shop. Even if it’s just free parking. (All laugh)

Jamie: It’s just too easy to buy music now.

How do you feel as artists about the devaluing of music? Does it annoy you that you’re working hard to make something, but people can just pick it up from their friends?

Jamie: I suppose we were never in the industry when it were big money, when people used to sell twenty million albums. Has that ever happened since we’ve been around?

Probably someone like Dido has.

Jamie: Yeah, that were probably the last.

Matt: It’s like, we wouldn’t expect anything like that to happen to us, so…

Alex: I do think there is people that always will want to go and get records.

Matt: Yeah, it won’t change everybody.

Alex: I was reading a couple of months ago about there’s an idea where you won’t even have – you know like you pull songs off iTunes or whatever – but they were saying you subscribe to a database and pay to get ’em…

Jamie: Spotify, that’s what that was.

Alex: Yeah. But you can’t get them on…

It streams the music – you can’t download them.

Alex: But you can’t do that on your phone, can you?

Matt: Yeah, you can do Spotify on your phone if you pay about £10 a month. Nokia did that thing where you can just pay a monthly thing and you can have as many as you want…

Alex: The fella had a quote, he’s like, ‘There’s nothing sexy about an MP3 on your desktop’. (Laughs) He’s like, ‘There’s nothing sexy about having a subscription to a database’. (All laugh) But then you could just sort of buy a record and stand it up against your wall. Not that that’s particularly sexy, but, you know what I mean… I like things that you can stand up.

Jamie: Like you said the other day, everyone’s just gonna have an empty house.

Matt: Yeah, there’s gonna be nothing on t’shelves. Not even books now.

Jamie: No one’s got any photos anymore, no ones’s got any CDs or records…

Matt: You’ll just have a screen and a chair.

Jamie: You’ll just go, ‘Sound. This is sound.’

Matt: With nowt on your wall.

Jamie: You can just have everything [at your fingertips]; turn your fire on, open your curtains…

Alex: You’d get in it for your bath. (All laugh)

[Alex goes into the band’s equipment drawer, pulls out a giant figure of Freddie Mercury in full-on rock pose. “See, he said he likes things that stand up,” Matt says.]

Does being on an independent label give you the freedom to experiment with your marketing or promotions? 

Matt: Yeah. They [Domino] have as many ideas as us for stuff like that, like the Oxfam thing. They tend to think on a similar level, and, at the same time, if we have a suggestion, they’re open to it. It sometimes is a good thing to have a label like Domino, cos they’re experienced in doing weird stuff, and have obviously signed things that aren’t necessarily to make any money or anything, so we’ll listen to them if they have a suggestion, and vice versa. They’d put records out on tins of beans and all sorts. (All laugh)

Jamie: I wanted to do it on a conifer. I wanted to put an MP3 out on a conifer.

Matt: Or just seeds. Christmas tree seeds.

Alex: Yeah. What did they actually do?

Matt: There’s a Jewish guy, I forgot what his name is, and they did it on a kosher chicken noodle soup or something. You buy the soup and you get the code [for the MP3]. Which is good in a way, because he’s just poo-pooing the fact that there’s not much point. It’s an incentive, but it doesn’t get it in the chart, you see. It’s a give-away. So you can sell anything and just have an MP3 code on it. You can sell a car and you’d just get one song.

Jamie: But then it doesn’t count towards t’charts?

Matt: No. The Oxfam thing don’t either, does it. Only the download bit does. You’re not allowed to give away incentives like free stuff, because that’s obviously encouraging people. See, that’s the thing – people might buy the soup and not download the song. ‘I wonder if they make good soup?’

Jamie: When you see a good cover sometimes…

Matt: Yeah, you buy it for the cover.

Alex: Perhaps the epitome of that is you buying a Lady Gaga picture disc. (Laughs)

Matt: Yeah, I did. I’ve been a fool.

Alex: It’s great, cos she’s wearing like a fuckin’ box of Coco Pops or something. (Laughs)

Matt: You could buy that Freddie Mercury thing and get a Queen album, for instance. You don’t need to put it on or owt.

Jamie: You want to make it awkward.

Matt: Buy a chair. Buy a flat pack piece of furniture and you get a code for an album.

Jamie: You have to put your furniture up and send a picture to someone, then they send you the MP3.

Alex: That would make a good video: playing in a bowl of Coco Pops. (All laugh) Remember that kids programme where they used to have to go swimming in a bowl of cereal…

Jamie: Ah yeah. Didn’t they used to do something like that on The Big Breakfast?

Matt: They did, yeah.

Jamie: It were a massive cup of tea and you used to have to get the sugar lumps…

Matt: Yeah, yeah, that was it: One Lump Or Two.

Jamie: One Lump Or Two, yeah!

Alex: It would be great: kid comes down, he’s having his breakfast – Coco Pops – and then, like, Arctic Monkeys are in his cereal. (All laugh)

Jamie: Hot milk, though.

Matt: Hot milk in t’afternoon.

Alex: (Laughs) ‘Why not try Coco Pops after school?’

Jamie: (Laughs) I love that advert!

Alex: It’s the best!

Do your fans give you CDs of their bands?

Matt: They throw them on t’stage! Imagine if you got one of them in t’eye! Fuckin’ hell! Remember in America, a kid got on stage and he had a handful [of CDs] and someone had to grab him to get him off, but he threw them. So he were getting pulled away and he threw them.

Alex: I’ve been getting less CDs though…

Matt: Now they’re throwing download cards at you!

Alex: I got a pair of underpants…

Jamie: People are chucking downloads at you. You’re like, ‘What the fuck?’

Matt: People are throwing zeroes and ones at you – it’s like the credits of The Matrix!

Jamie: You can’t get any flick on a download.

Alex: They’re chucking Spotifys at me. Maybe that’s what them pants were – some sort of code.

I think it’d be a totally different sort of code! Do you listen to the music that fans give you?

Matt: I listened to one that someone gave me the other day. It just were at home though, he just gave it me.

Alex: No more than I’d wear that pair of pants! (Laughs)

Matt: It were just convenient – I were getting in me car and there’s a CD player there.

What’s the strangest thing a fan has given you?

Matt: Just in Japan – everything you get is weird! Like, a monkey hat – it left your own face in but it’s got ears and a tail.

Jamie: And sweets.

Matt: A lot of sweets.

Jamie: We once said, ‘Oh, we like these sweets’ in an interview…

Nick: There’s someone that makes baked goods.

Matt: You got a good one, where it were like a picture of you…

Alex: Yeah, I got like a diagram of myself…

Matt: A diagram, pointing at every bit, and then asking to fill in, like, what his favourite brand of jeans were.

Alex: Hand it back, and then she’d sort of kit me out.

Matt: She’d buy it all! So, like, ‘Favourite shoes? Trainers or boots?’ It would be like that. He’d fill it in and send it back and then she’d buy it. ‘Will this do?’

Alex: Back it came with this jumper that were perfect actually. She really knew me better than I knew meself.

Nick: With baked goods, I know it’s not [spiked], but you never know… It’s probably fine – it’s more than likely fine – but it is a gamble.

Matt: It’s innocent, but someone might have seen that opportunity.

Jamie: I don’t think I’m ever gonna eat a baked good that some stranger’s made. You learn about that. There is a story there…

What’s the first thing you do when you get home after the tour is finished? 

Nick: See your friends and family that you’ve not seen.

Matt: I go and get my photos developed. That’s actually one of the first things I do.

Alex: I usually pick up me guitar. Honestly. It’s a deep breath.

Later that evening, Clash is back in the ping-pong room. The tour manager comes to break bad news to the band - the curtain at the front of the stage is broken. They won't be able to make their usual grand entrance. "Ah, we've got to do it," grins Alex. Do what? "We've been saying on this tour if ever the curtain doesn't work, we've got to go on to this song." Which song? "Black Eyed Peas’ ‘I Gotta Feelin’’," Alex beams. The band are giddily bouncing around, electrified by the prospect of taking the stage to the song that's soundtracked many a menopausal vodka-stained Saturday evening's preparatory gathering.

“But when do we go on?" Matt asks.

"The rap. We gotta wait for the rap," Alex asserts.

"We should wait until "Mazel tov”,” Jamie smirks.

Ten minutes later, Clash is amidst the Offenbach crowd when the lights go out and the song bursts from the PA. A wave of euphoria swells, the irony not lost, and right on cue, just as the Peas declare, "I know that we'll have a ball", the four Monkeys stride towards their instruments.

The nineteen-song set covers their three albums - with Nick Cave's 'Red Right Hand’ thrown in for good measure. The last song before their encore is 'Secret Door’ from 'Humbug’. Just as Matt cracks the snare drum that launches the song's long psychedelic outro, cannons on the roof blast out gold and silver confetti over the joyous crowd below, proving that the Monkeys aren't averse to a bit of showmanship every now and then.

The after party is a subdued affair (well, in Offenbach it's bound to be!), with just the band, some friends, crew, and Clash, diving into the beer and nibbles on offer. A fairly drunken chat with Alex about Johnny Cash, Billie Holiday and Gram Parsons rounds off our time with the band, as they retreat back to the confines of their bus, about to depart for Dusseldor and their next gig.

Such a welcome and warm atmosphere is often rare backstage, especially with a band as celebrated as this, but the Monkeys - ever changing and ever surprising - are beginning to make a habit of defying expectations. Growing up has never been such fun.

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #matt helders #nick o'malley #jamie cook #humbug era #clash magazine #interview #not my scan #bands #screenshots from vk #in another universe they wouldve started a four white men talking podcast #eye contact #my image id

[ave09]

marriage

indiana jones x reader

“indy?”

“doll?”

“where do you draw the line when it comes to grading?” the man glanced up at you, pushing his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose, “what do you mean?” 

you slid the test you were grading across the table, “her answer is correct technically speaking, but he added a lot of unnecessary information that i had to pick the paragraph apart to find the right answer.” 

his hazel eyes skimmed the overly large paragraph, chuckling, “mark it as wrong.” you arched your brows in surprise, “really?” indiana nodded, “she’s adding in the extra information in order to try and score points with me, i’ve seen it too many times before.” 

“but won’t marking it wrong benefit her? this is worth ten points, marking this wrong will bring her to an F. therefore, you will have you will have to meet with her after class, giving her exactly what she wants, which is alone time with her attractive professor.” 

indiana stared blankly for a moment. he knew you were right. and yet, his answer remained the same, “mark it wrong.” 

you complied, using a red pen to mark an ‘x’ over the question. “well, don’t complain to me when she starts writing ‘love you’ across her eyelids.” 

suddenly, indiana rose from his seat abruptly, “maybe it’s time to show them that i already have a lovely lady.” 

“they know, i’ve been to your class before, indiana.” 

“no no, i mean like officially. show ‘em that i’m off the market completely.” you furrowed your brows, “indy, i’m not following.” the man rushed out of the room, toward the kitchen. you rose to follow him, only to hear, “don’t move!” 

so you remained seated. you heard a rummaging sound, then a clang. your gut told you to go see what was going on, but you remained compliant to indiana’s orders. 

he reentered the room, “okay,” he exhaled deeply, “i was gonna plan this out, make it nice and all, but i am known to be spontaneous..” 

then he dropped to one knee. your eyes widened as he revealed a small velvet box. you couldn’t believe it. 

“beautiful, we’ve been through a whole hell of a lot. from wild adventures, to almost dying, you’ve stuck with me through it all. and i’ll be honest, i never saw myself as the type of guy to settle down, but, then i met you.”

tears stung your eyes.

“you make me better, you make my life better. you’re the light in the darkness and i love you so much.”

he opened the box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring. 

“will you do me and the honor, and become mrs. jones.” 

you smiled tearfully, nodding rapidly, “of course i will, indy.” he grinned widely, “i had a feeling you’d say yes.” indiana then rose to his full height, you stood as well, approaching him. the man gently reached for your left hand, sliding the band onto your ring finger.

you couldn’t believe it! you were getting married!

“y’know, i think this calls for a celebration.” 

“celebration?” you were thinking he met breaking out the wine, or even heading to the bedroom. but instead, indiana moseyed toward the stereo, clicking it on.

 ‘cheek to cheek’ by fred astaire began playing. 

indiana turned around, extending a hand toward you, “dance with me?” 

“of course.” you replied, taking his hand. you two danced around your dining room, completely forgetting about the pile of papers that needed to be graded.

indiana began singing along in a low voice, “when we’re off together dancing cheek to cheek.” it was always a surprise to hear him

sing. it was one of the man’s many hidden talents, and you were the only one he’d ever sing for. 

he then spun you around, before pulling you close to him. 

“i love you.” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you. 

“i know.” you replied, only to have him

jerk back, “ i know? that’s all i get? i know?” you let out a loud laugh, “i love you too, indy. more than anything.” you then pressed your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

— — —

the next morning, indiana jones walked to his classroom with an unexplained pep in his step.  the students exchanged confused looks, the professors were curious.

the man stepped into his classroom, clapping his hands as he grinned at the students, “good morning class!”

“good morning, doctor jones.” they replied. one of the girls, the very one who had added all the entire information onto her test, raised her hand. 

“yes, miss fisher?”

“you seem very happy this morning, doctor jones, has something happened?” the man’s smile somehow grew bigger as he thought back to the events of the night before.

“something has happened, miss fisher, and i’ve been waiting all morning to tell you-i’m getting married.” 

#indiana jones x reader #indiana jones #indiana jones and the temple of doom #indy #indiana jones and the raiders of the lost ark #harrison ford x reader #harrison ford movies #young harrison ford

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 少年歌行/The Blood of Youth

The Blood of Youth is a 2022 live-action adaptation of the tale of a deposed, disabled, and incredibly cunty prince who's on his way back to settle the score with his asshole father, and the rag-tag band of weirdos he accumulates along the way, including Spear Girl, Bad Monk, and Fire Puppy (pictured above).

I hope you like shounen anime, because this is the most shounen anime something is allowed to be without actually being based on something running weekly in Shounen Jump. What if Nirvana in Fire were also Naruto? It would be the Blood of Youth.

This show is an underrated gem of action-packed fun that not nearly enough people in English-speaking fandom have seen. In an attempt to correct that -- and ahead of an announced second season and prequel in progress -- I'm here with five reasons you should try it out.

1. Zero thoughts head empty

You do not have to pay an enormous amount of attention to this show to understand what's going on. The show itself does not always know what's going on. It got distracted by a shiny object over there, and now we're all gearing up to go punch the shiny object. We'll get back to the main plot when we're done with the punching.

It has a million billion plot threads going on at any given moment. Bad guys roll in from sects you've never heard of before, using superpowers with stupid names, only to get kicked into next week. There's approximately eleventy thousand characters -- so many, in fact, that I ran into problems several times while making this rec post, because there aren't readily available photos of everyone I want to talk about. Just look at the DramaWiki cast list. See how it goes on for like fifty screens? That's a little what the show feels like.

Except I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing, because the show knows it's doing this, and it acts accordingly. It telegraphs pretty well who's important and who isn't (and then it goes out of its way to color-code the latter, which is handy). What you're left with is absolutely a manga-style plot, complete with training arcs and semi-relevant sidequests, all working up to the final boss match.

It is an extremely self-aware show. On multiple occasions, something would happen, I would crack a joke about it, and then a beat later the show itself would make the exact same joke. I wouldn't call it an outright comedy, but it's still very funny, and on purpose. It has no illusions about being some kind of profound, meaningful epic. Mostly it's just here for a good time.

Yet this lightheartedness is what makes the powerful emotional parts really powerful by contrast. The show is not stupid; it's just goofing around most of the time. When it knuckles down, it can be devastating. And you know what? It does wind up being profound and meaningful about some stuff. How about that.

So yeah, if you're up for something that bops merrily right along and only occasionally rips your heart out, here you go!

2. Putting the poly in polycule

Bisexuals, rejoice! It's representin' time!

Here you go, I made a relationship chart of about 40% of the show's potential and canonical ships. I could have included so many more, but I only had so much space on the image, so I had to leave out some amazing ones, like the sword hedgehog who's real into this one cougar who could easily wipe the floor with him, or the rich nerd who thinks he has a chance with the aforementioned hot butch, or the fancy MILF who cheated on the emperor with a dreamy jianghu man and is trying not to cheat on him again with a different, slightly less dreamy jianghu man. See? There's just so much.

I would also say these are not exclusive ships. They are extremely inclusive ships. I am a fan of most (though admittedly not all) of the pairings listed here, and in fact of many of the three-and-more-somes indicated by these lines. They're such a cuddle puddle of shared intense feelings that it's hard to imagine anyone getting more than mildly jealous. Moreover, the potential for romance does not get in the way of hetero friendships; a boy and a girl who are each dating other people can go do adventures together, and (mostly) nobody gets weird about it, which is nice. If anything, what makes the overall dynamic so polycule-like is how equally friends and love interests get treated, meaning that it's not difficult to see a lot of crossover potential between those two categories.

If you're like me, you're hesitant about canonical romance, especially when it's straight, mostly because so many straight love stories wind up being tiresome, gross, and/or skull-poundingly boring. You will then be pleasantly surprised by how the canon pairings with members of the main cast are not like this at all!

Xiao Se and Sikong Qianluo are the main textual romance, and golly gee, they're just cute as heck. As the chart above indicates, I like interpreting them as two Kinsey 6's who have found their single exceptions, Mulder-and-Scully-style. Maybe one of the best things about their relationship is that it gets sidelined all the time for the plot. They're not so busy being in love that they forget to get shit done. Then they get a bit of downtime and get to go on a date, and you're like, aww, those sweet gay disaster babies are gonna do a little bit of heterosexuality. Just precious.

Tang Lian and Fairy Rui are right up there with the cuteness. She's a sex-positive dancing beauty who wants to ride that pretty boy like she stole him, and he's a shy sword boy so tightly bottled up that he'll explode if he sees a bare ankle. Avoiding spoilers, I will simply say that this is a pairing of two relatively soft people, until a bad thing happens to one of them and the other hardens up about it. If that's your jam, they're here for you.

Lei Wujie and Ye Ruoye are probably the most magical and the most practical of the bunch. They have a beautiful, super-dreamy, really horny sword-dance meet-cute, complete with its own pop song ... and then that's it, they're basically just together. She likes him, he likes her, good for them. In-laws aside, it's a refreshingly low-drama situation. Besides, I always love it when the hypercompetent woman gets the sweet, devoted himbo who'd do anything for her. Ruoye's had a hard life, and she deserves someone who can dick her down good at night and make her a nourishing breakfast the next morning.

And then there is, of course, The Ship:

Xiao Se and Wuxin are canonical, textual soulmates. The show treats their dynamic as more important than any other. It's so important, in fact, that the show has to sideline Wuxin for huge parts of the drama, lest everything get too damn gay. They each get a boyfriend catch on the other. They both do fairly reckless things when the other is in trouble. They are the secret hidden happy ending to the series. They share the kind of ride-or-die relationship built on mutually being the hugest bitches in any given room. Whether or not you think this is romance, it is extremely romantic, and the series agrees as much as it can, all things considered.

And if none of those flavors of love float your boat? Well, have you considered ... eunuchs?

3. She likes e4e

So I'm on record as being real into eunuch characters, right? Well, if you're with me on that, you are in for a treat here, because these are some absolutely buck-wild eunuchs.

There's five main ones, and I can't even begin to scratch the surface of what's going there. Like, really, I don't even think I understood all of what was happening with them. They're kind of the bad guys, but then they're kind of the good guys, but then some of them are the bad guys, but then they're just working for the bad guys, but then they screw over the bad guys, and ... it's just a lot, okay? It's a lot, and it's all happening with this bunch of catty bitches.

Also, you would not believe the difficult time I had finding any images for this section. I guess for some reason, fandom isn't way into a bunch of canonically dickless color-coordinated middle-aged men in weird hats? Whatever, man, they are missing out. If, however, you have the good sense to be into the intense and complicated (semi-romantic??) relationships among colleagues who also professionally just happen to be missing their external genitalia, buddy, strap in (and maybe strap on, depending).

Don't let me oversell how much these guys are in the show. They're not. They're vaguely important at points throughout, and they become incredibly important near the end, but they're hardly main characters. They're mostly back at the palace, doing their various schemes and looking absolutely fantastic.

So if they're such a minor part of the story, why do they get their own selling point? Well, I think their presence is a good example of two specific things about the show:

Specific thing the first: It's so queer -- not gay, but queer. Thinking back to my last selling point, you will notice how many of those straight pairings may look normie on the outside, but once you get down to it are not playing by cishet rules. (For instance, I've seen a lot of people read Tang Lian's resistance to sexual advances as asexuality, which, sure!) Likewise, there are lots of incredibly important, intimate relationships that don't conform to standard romantic pair dynamics. Add to that a lot of bodies with unusual characteristics and conditions, and you've got the makings of plenty of delightful non-normative love stories.

Specific thing the second: There are so many things going on with so many side characters that there's a kink here for everyone. Don't care for eunuchs? How about slinky villains with mind-control powers? Devoted servants who would do anything for their masters? Former bad guys who owe life-debts to the good guys who saved them? Bonded pairs traipsing around the jianghu together? Sons nursing legitimate grudges against the men who killed their fathers? Alcoholic widowers with incredibly slutty necklines? Mysterious cross-dressers with unconvincing moustaches? Vengeful brides? Martial siblings? Murderous royals? Guilt-ridden half-siblings? Boring star-crossed lovers? All these and more! It's a smorgasbord of rarepair fuel!

Also, I just love these toxic drama queens. It's like if RuPaul's Drag Race had the authority to have you executed.

4. The most intriguing outfits I've ever seen in anything (and yes, I'm including Winter Begonia)

Time for a fashion show!

The asymmetrical fits, the detailed embroidery on everything, the brilliant colors -- everybody just looks so good. And yet everything still looks ... eh, I don't know if "practical" is the word I want, but at least wearable. Nobody's dragging ten-foot trains of fabric behind them or wrapped in eighty floofy layers of gauze (except Rui, but she's special). Their outfits are strange and elaborate, but they don't defy physics.

What's truly stunning is how often they get new outfits. Xiao Se alone changes clothes about once every other episode, and more if he's getting a flashback. He is the fashion plate of the whole series, and every look he serves is pitch-perfect.

They're not outright color-coded, but the main characters do have certain colors associated with them -- which is extra-fun when you watch those colors bleeding into their friends' clothes as their relationships get stronger. I also think -- and I'm willing to be proven wrong on this point, but I think I'm right -- that they recycle some characters' outfits into parts of other characters' outfits. On more than one occasion, I'd swear that Lei Wujie shows up wearing the left half of something Xiao Se was wearing a few episodes back (tailored to fit him, of course, because that dumb ponytail boy is tall).

Where I think the costume design gets massive points, though, is that the costumes are themselves adaptations.

Before the live-action series, there was a 2018 3D animated donghua. I have never watched the latter, but apparently the drama is intensely faithful to the animated visuals, to the point where some fights are shot-for-shot remakes.

Of course, you can do a lot more with unreal clothing and bodies in animation -- and you can show a lot more skin, at least according to Chinese content laws. The live-action costumers chose to preserve about as many of the appearance beats from the donghua as they could manage, while still accepting the limitations of real-life bodies and materials. You can see some side-by-side comparisons here. The live-action outfits manage to be instantly recognizable without being slavishly devoted recreating to their inspirations.

So if you're sick and tired of dreary, ill-lit shows with bland palettes, this vibrant, colorful drama may be just the thing for you. It's a rainbow from start to finish.

5. Actually a good central plot?

Despite all the wacky delightful shounen nonsense that this show has -- and it has a lot -- the core of the whole narrative, which is Xiao Se's story, is surprisingly great and cohesive.

The short version is this: Xiao Se used to be Xiao Chuhe, sixth prince and somewhat heir apparent. Then he and his jerk-ass dad had a falling-out that resulted in the prince's having his martial arts abilities all but taken from him. He's been living the life of a very well-dressed innkeeper for several years, trying to avoid all of that palace garbage. But now his jerk-ass dad is dying, which means that a lot of horrible decisions are finally having unfortunate consequences for everyone, and Xiao Se's got to get back in there to make sure everything does not go to shit and land someone terrible on the throne -- even if it has to mean taking it himself.

His central conflict is between what he used to be and what he's become. Does he miss being Xiao Chuhe, high-ranked martial artist and future emperor? Or is he happier being Xiao Se, long-suffering nobody who can barely run a business, much less hold his own in a fight? What would he be willing to do to get back what he's lost? What are his obligations to himself versus his obligations to everyone else? How much is he responsible for his father's bullshit? And why has he wound up having to babysit this stupid Fire Puppy?

It's okay, they're best friends now. Lei Wujie decided.

No spoilers, but I liked Xiao Se's ending a lot. I feel it's very true to the character and shows a real understanding of who he is and what he values. And really, at the end of the day, sometimes all you need for a happy ending is your girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend's boyfriend who's also your boyfriend, your other boyfriend, his girlfriend, and your long-distance for-real soulmate.

Feel like giving the youths a try?

You can find them on YouTube or on Viki. But be absolutely sure that no matter where you watch it, you make sure to go watch the epilogue as well. (And if you get real into the story, well, here's a link to information about all the other adaptations.)

You are also welcome for how I did not spend this post going off for five hundred years on how much I love Wuxin and his funky relationship to Buddhism. I figured that's way too niche of a selling point for most people, and might indeed have even been counterproductive. But know that I could have.

Also, I'm very happy about the announcement of a second season, because that's going to mean Liu Xueyi has to shave his head again, and he looks unbearably good with a shaved head.

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the whole motorcycle photoshoot?

In case you hadn't noticed, the whole cast is stupidly hot. Hachi machi.

#the blood of youth #少年歌行 #bloody youths #i made this #rec post #the party is a polycule #LeiDHD

[yoichiris]

if i had a choice | isagi yoichi x reader

✩ you think you never stood a chance. ✩ highschool fic, heavy pining, angst with happy ending, manga spoilers for u20 arc

i'll be watching with all my support. i like you, isagi-kun.

you leave the note, along with a pair of wristbands, in isagi's locker the day of qualifying match for nationals. you had believed he would make it.

isagi doesn't come back to ichinan after losing.

you don't hear until a week later that a special program organized by the jfu has begun, and all of japan's top strikers under 18 have been invited to participate. you have no doubt that isagi is there, because he's been amazing since you've known him.

another week passes, and you hear that his mom has passed by to pick up everything from his locker.

you remember sitting with isagi at lunchtime the weeks before, pouring over strategy notes for the game. you remember watching him practice after school, turning to grin at you when he would score a goal.

you remember the coldness that had washed over you when matsukaze won the qualifying match for nationals and saw the look on isagi's face.

he disappears after that.

your heart pounds when you hear about the blue lock's match against the u20 team.

you are not prepared to see isagi on this stage. he looks completely different from the last time you saw him on your tiny high school field. there are thousands of people around you, hollering, and he's right in the middle.

you watch as he weaves across the field, his movement evolved, executing plays that you two couldn't have even have dreamt of in your notebook.

you can't take your eyes off of him. the determination that had been simmering under him before was in full force, and you could feel it. that he wasn't going to settle for less, anything worse than the best.

you grip the notebook that you had stupidly brought. it was nothing compared to this, to project blue lock. you were nothing compared to them.

you cry when isagi scores the final goal. everything about it is perfect, down to the millisecond. you understand, after all, that he's no longer the boy in your class, someone you could share your passion for soccer with.

he becomes isagi yoichi, the striker who will lead japan to win the u20 world cup.

you're at your desk studying, the notebook off to the side, when your phone buzzes.

[17:04] hey yn [17:04] do you have time come out today? [17:05] we can meet by the river, if that's okay

your heart jumps to your throat. it's been a week since the u20 match and the thought had not even crossed your mind that he still had your number.

the breezy air outside makes you shiver as you walk to the river. you sit on the grassy slope that you and isagi had shared popsicles on once.

you hear his footsteps behind you, but you're scared to turn around. you're not sure why you're here, anyway.

"yn!" isagi greets, sounding exactly like he did before he left.

you turn to look at him, straining a smile for him. he looks happy. without his blue lock uniform, you think he could be like before. but you remember the goal, and you think probably not.

you know you should congratulate him on his match, but you can't bring yourself to say anything about the event that had solidified his life away from you.

"i, uh, just got your gift," he says, after a moment of silence, "kaasan left it in my room while i was gone."

you had forgotten about the gift. the note.

"oh," you say, breathless. "do you like it?"

he laughs, "i don't wear wrist bands anymore, but i appreciate it." he looks down, "and we didn't even qualify for nationals."

ah, you think. he doesn't need them anymore.

"you won the u20 match, though," you say instead, voice on the verge of cracking, "you were amazing."

you watch as his face lights up, and even if he gets shy, you can see the way he shines. "you saw it?"

"of course," you murmur, "i was in the stadium."

you look away, picking at the grass, "that last goal was..." you try to think of the right words, "...a perfectly executed sequence of events. it was really incredible, isagi-kun."

it's quiet, and you think you've said something wrong. but when you look up to him, there's an expression on his face you can't decipher.

"you don't think it was luck?" he asks, almost incredulously.

you shake your head, "no," you say, certain, "why would it be luck?"

isagi is thinking about what tada had said about luck when he catches sight of a small package on his desk.

i like you, isagi-kun.

the words are unfamiliar. they seemed like worlds away, when all he had been thinking of are words like egoist. liking somebody was different, so fundamentally not egoistic.

he's typing to you when he receives the notification to return to blue lock. he has a few days left, he thinks, and presses send. your reply is faster than he expects.

[17:07] hi isagi-kun [17:07] sure

he recognizes the slope of your back and the wisp of your hair as he approaches the river. it feels like he hasn't seen you in forever, like his memories of you and your scribbles in your notebook are faded.

you seem distant, quieter than he remembers. he knows he's different now, but maybe you're different too?

"why would it be luck?" your words echo in his head.

but he remembers how perceptive you were, how far you'd dreamt, for him, and he feels as if he's awakened again. he takes a deep breath.

"i like you, too, y/n," isagi declares, impulsively, running on instinct. live your life as you want.

it was the last thing you had expected to hear, but it doesn't change how you feel, what you know. that he lives in a different world than you now.

"thank you, isagi-kun," you say, sounding happier than you had intended. "when are you going back to blue lock?"

he looks confused, as if that's not what you're supposed to say.

"ah, um, on monday," he clears his throat, "but i think things will be different than before."

you hum in agreement, "you're representing japan in the u20 now."

"oh, no, i meant—" he stutters, looking flustered, "i meant, i think i'll be able to contact you..."

you brush him off. you couldn't have any expectations of him, because you would never be the priority in his life. you had understood, from watching him play that match, that he would be chasing the high of goals like that for his whole life. what could you offer him, in comparison?

"and, i don't know when i'll be out next but..." he continues.

you shake your head, "it's okay," you reassure him, maybe not genuinely, "just do your best in there... for me, okay?"

you add in that last part for yourself.

isagi had thought he was talking about you and him, but he realizes halfway that you had been talking about soccer the whole time.

"yn," he calls, using your name to ground himself, "do you want to be my girlfriend?"

the blush that floods your cheeks relieves him. your face had looked so serious before, so unlike the excitement he had remembered you for. you look so cute, he thinks.

"i can't," you reply, and he can tell you don't believe your words, but he's not sure why you would say them in the first place.

"isagi-kun," you continue, hiding your face, "i want you to give your best at soccer. become the best in the world. you don't need me for that."

he's stunned. he feels as if his brain is rewiring, as if he's on the field again. but it's just you, you who had been with him since he started high school, watching videos of noel noa with him under our desk, you who had left that note in his locker right before he left for blue lock.

live your life as you want. the words echo in his mind, and what he wants is you.

"but i want you," he says.

the look on isagi's face has changed. he looks as he does when he's on the field, like when you saw him in that stadium.

but i want you.

"i—" your resolve crumbles, seeing him. "i don't—"

he stops you, and suddenly he's closer than before, a hand to steady himself on the grass beside you. he asks you again. "do you want to be my girlfriend, yn?"

the determination in his eyes makes you hopeful.

"yes," you breathe, feeling his presence overwhelm you, giving in to your instincts, "yes, i do."

he brings his head even closer to yours. "can i kiss you?"

your mind blanks, your heart races, but you nod. and when he presses his lips against yours, you can feel it: how demanding he is, how ambitious, how much he desires. as if he can keep both you and soccer.

"i'll come back," isagi whispers against your lips, "i will come back for you."

#blue lock x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #bllk x reader #yoi's crops 🌱 #from: isagi yoichi 🎀

[vole-mon-amour]

I don't think I ever gave a name to that, which results in me never truly pinpointing that, but Johnny is such an incredibly resilient and adaptive, quick thinking person.

I just did that mission with an old Samurai fan that refuses to give you the tape of the first concert(s) unless you prove to him you're also a big fan, and the way Johnny reacts combined with what we know about him? Amazing.

The game starts with Johnny wanting to kill V, but then he very quickly thinks it over and decides he has to work with V. "Changed my mind, made it pretty clear." & "I got a free ticket out of this prison, would be a fool not to take/use it."

Then, while he's still getting used to V, he says out loud that he's been watching her, been trying to understand how she works and in whose brain he's stuck with. When she asks what he wants, he says, "Help me settle my score with Arasaka." He has a clear goal, but he's constantly analyzing the world around him and adjusts if needed.

During the Samurai old tapes mission, Johnny says something like, "That's why you never bring old war heroes back. They might see that everything they fought for been turned to shit/been for nothing." Not the exact quote, but the point is the same.

After the conversation with that old fan, V asks, "The guys is your biggest fan. Not happy to meet him?" And to the entire situation Johnny basically reacts that the guys is stuck in the past. The Arasaka tower has been blown to bits by Johnny, but it's still standing, so nothing changes/changed. And V insists that "been fifty years, something must've changed and still changes, we just don't see it." Johnny says that the only thing that (truly) changed is that people (a person) used to be more than a bag of meat full of implants.

When Kerry is angry (as he should be) about his manager screwing him over and wants to attack Us Cracks backstage, upon seeing the girls, Johnny says something like, "They have potential. Kerry must be an idiot if he doesn't see that." Johnny probably saw/heard them during the first V's body takeover while he was partying, plus, he probably saw the footage that Kerry showed V at the diner while they were drinking coffee, so in theory he had time to think it through. However, it also seems like Johnny saw the band for the first time ever, heard what they were saying and how they wanted to help (that they're Kerry's fans, have multimillion contracts and are touring right here and now), so he immediately adapted—take the opportunity, don't be an idiot. While Kerry is insecure and is driven by that and emotions, and he wants to make it on his own.

The entire thing with Johnny first hoping to get out of V's brain and keep on living that resolves into him taking V to Pistis Sophia and promising her that "When it comes to my life for yours, I'll agree to get wiped." He sees what V is going through, he gets real, he thinks it over, he makes a quick decision and he sticks to his word.

There's probably more I could add, but jumping to the Temperance ending: how Johnny doesn't bother telling Kerry about V (which is both a shitty and a necessary thing to do), how he only reaches out to Rogue and updates her on the situation because it's something HE needs to do for himself. When she insults him, however, he a) he's still grieving the loss of V b) he doesn't start defending himself, nor does he bother to even reply to her messages. He told her all she needed to know, the rest doesn't (or at least shouldn't) bother him. It's a post factum to Johnny: this happened. He has to live with it & it doesn't matter what anybody says about that. And while he basically says to Steve. that Kerry is good, that he's happy for him and his success, he knows he has to get out of Night City. And who knows what happens if he calls Kerry or, God forbid, meets up with him and tells him that his partner/good pal (gn) is dead and Johnny took her place? It's like poking a beehive. Like adding salt to the wound while the wound is still bleeding. Johnny doesn't need that.

So what does Johnny say when he gets on the bus? "Didn't forget a thing. Will never forget." Johnny recognizes that everything that has happened has ALREADY happened and he should leave it in the past. He even tells to V's necklace that he can't keep on living like this, he has to move on—while the time after her death has barely passed (two weeks or two months, when you lose a loved one, it barely makes any difference. It's still an open wound.) He even tells Steve that he used to miss her, but not so much now. Which I think he tries to convince himself in order to move on and "man up" (which is a problem in itself, but that's not what the post is about), or be nice to the kid without burdening him because Steve already has lots of problems with his family, but maybe Johnny truly believes (or thinks that he does) that it's OK now. Just like with that old Samurai fan, he tells to himself not be get stuck in the past (while it's still his present, but again, that's another topic). The time to grieve has ended, gotta get on.

Again, combined with Johnny's horrible childhood, his dad selling him for a pack of cigs, Johnny losing his best friend at war and being experimented on with the new cyberware that made such an awful and lasting damage on him (and the entire untreated PTSD) that, when he emerged, everyone around him noticed that he's not quite himself, it's incredible that Johnny managed to not lose his mind and sanity completely. With drugs, alcohol, depression, but he kept being functional, managed to write songs, tour and perform.

And THEN the entire thing with V happens & he still finds enough of mental strength and energy to keep fighting for this body and this life that V gifted him. Make himself worthy of this body. Make V proud.

Johnny is such an amazing character. If there wasn't anyone and anything in this game that I liked, he and his character development alone would've kept me in the fandom. He and his story are a big part of why I keep calling Cyberpunk 2077 one of my favorite games and have around 380 hours put into the game (and it's still raising).

#johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #cb2077 #natiswriting #natisplaying #long post #cp2077 #silverv #tooke an hour to write and edit this? #okay then #If I don't write this down #I'll literally forget this observation

[motomamita]

Whiplash

Based on the movie Whiplash (2014)

Pairing: Guitarist!Eddie Munson x Female!Guitarist!reader

Summary: (YN) puts Eddie's place in the music group at risk, so he decides to visit her at night and clear things up.

Warnings: Smut, +18, a looot of cursing and dirty talk, possesive Eddie, rough sex, hatefuck, unprotected sex, Fletcher is a warning himself, violents talks, idk.

Do not copy or translate, and sorry for my bad english. Muak.

Eddie entered the rehearsal room carrying his guitar case while trying not to bump into his classmates, reading the sheet music that Fletcher had given them days before.

He had been in the select group at the conservatory for 2 weeks and still felt nervous like the first time. After Fletcher fired his previous guitarist, Eddie was chosen from among many guitarists at the conservatory to take his place. He finally had an important position on the team and he wasn't going to let anyone take him away from there.

Everyone took their places and began to warm up their instruments, practicing individually without paying attention to the rest of their classmates. They stayed like that until Fletcher came into the room. The silence became absolute and the nervousness was present.

"We are weeks away from the presentation at the exhibition." Fletcher commented looking at his musicians who kept their eyes on the floor. "My reputation and that of the Conservatory depends on your performance there." He spoke seriously. "So if any of you, fucking shits, decide to make some mistake and ruin everything...! You'll just have to pick up your stuff and leave before I kill you with my own hands, okay?!" Fletcher's voice echoed throughout the place.

Neither Eddie nor the others dared to speak. They kept their eyes on the ground and their hearts pounding, not moving to avoid attracting Fletcher's attention and automatically becoming his next victim.

"OK?!" He repeated angrily.

"Yes sir!" They all responded in unison.

"Good very good." Fletcher sat down in his chair and everyone quickly get ready to play. "We start with Caravan."

The band began to play immediately, following the scores with their eyes to avoid mistakes that could harm them. Eddie fixed his gaze on his fingers on the strings as he bobbed his head rhythmically. He had already studied this song the night before to avoid mistakes so he knew it by heart from beginning to end. He didn't want to be the victim of Fletcher's fury, not again.

It took a few seconds until Fletcher waved his hands in the air asking them to stop immediately, which they did. A grimace of disgust settled on the man's face. Someone had made a mistake and Eddie prayed it wasn't him.

"Edward. What the fuck was that!?" It had been him. "Is smoking affecting your damn retarded chimpanzee brain?"

Fletcher yelled at him from his spot, placing his hands on his hips and still looking at him. Eddie lowered his gaze embarrassed and didn't say a word, anything he could say was going to complicate the situation even more.

"I think I'm going to have to hit your damn fingers with a hammer to get them to play ONE note right! Son of a bitch.."

Fletcher was interrupted by a knock on the door of the room. He walked to open the door, welcoming whoever was behind.

"Thank God you came! This idiot is ruining everything!" He exclaimed with a certain tone of calm in his voice. "Everyone, meet (YN). She'll be our lead guitarist."

Eddie looked up from the ground when he heard the name. His eyes connected with hers, his 'former fuck' and now 'new enemy'. He hadn't seen her since the last time they fucked, before they both entered the conservatory and had a fight over who was the best player.

"Thank you for considering me and giving me the opportunity to play with you." She smiled. That damn smile.

"You deserve it, sweetie. So take Munson's seat."

Eddie smiled, anger coursing through his body. Was this all an evil plan on Fletcher's part? Did he want to humiliate him even more?

"But... I'm the lead guitarist..." Eddie tried to defend his place.

"You're not anymore. Until you improve your technique and keep your mind on the scores and not thinking about whores and drugs." Fletcher responded harshly. "Now you are going to be in charge of turning the pages of (YN's) sheet music."

The girl walked to Eddie's seat, who reluctantly gave her his place and stood next to her. (YN) set up her guitar and took out her own folder of sheet music, extending it to Eddie.

"We're back again with Caravan." Fletcher informed, returning to his place in the room.

"You heard, place my pages on Caravan." (YN) murmured with a mocking smile to Eddie, who closed his fists trying to mitigate his anger and followed the girl's orders.

"And one, two and.. Three!"

Three loud knocks echoed on the door of (YN's) small apartment. The girl, who had just come out of the shower, put on a t-shirt that reached her thighs and ran to the door still with her hair wet.

When she opened she found Eddie Munson, who also didn't seem happy to see her again. Many times he had shown up at her door, months ago, with desire and need in his eyes and then fucked her until dawn. Now, his gaze expressed pure annoyance and it was more likely that he wanted to finish her off before making her finish.

"Why? Uh? Why the hell do you want to sabotage me?" He asked placing his hand on the door frame, preventing her from closing it.

"I didn't sabotage you, you just did." She explained calmly. "It's not my fault I'm better than you." She smiled cynically.

"No! You're not better than me and you know it. It's all a damn plan to drive me crazy and push me over the edge, right?" Eddie raised his voice upset.

(YN) sighed and grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket, making him enter the apartment before the neighbors complained about the noise.

"You're really paranoid if you think I'm doing all this for you. I made the team on my own merit, I'm not part of any 'evil plan' to make you suffer, as much as I'd like to see that." She explained, taking a few steps forward to stay close to him.

"Did you fuck Fletcher?" Eddie asked quietly as he looked into her eyes.

"What?" She asked after a few seconds confused.

"You did it, right? All so you could steal my place on the team." He asked again, now more confident.

"No, I never did." She shook her head, still looking into his eyes. "But I might try, if that makes you even more jealous." She murmured mischievously after a few seconds.

Neither of them moved for the first few seconds. The street lights entered through the windows of the apartment, leaving little visibility and turning them into shadows for the outside gaze. The ticking of the clock resonated almost at the same tempo as the rapid heartbeats of both, creating a melody as dangerous as it was captivating.

Eddie couldn't contain himself any longer and launched himself at her, placing one of his hands behind her neck and pulling her towards him, kissing her desperately. (YN) did not refuse and received him gladly, hugging him by the shoulders and pressing her body even closer to his. The kiss became more violent, showing that there was not only desire there but also a great amount of hatred in both of them. Without separating, they moved to the couch where (YN) collided with him, becoming cornered between it and Eddie.

"Damn whore, trying to steal my place..." Eddie murmured against her lips while one of his hands moved up her thighs until he reached her core. "And you're not wearing panties... It seems like you were waiting for me to arrive and find you like this..." He growled and one of his fingers began to make circular movements on her clitoris. Her legs trembled at the sudden stimulus, closing her thighs instinctively.

"I wasn't waiting for you, but for Fletcher.." she joked, enjoying Eddie's jealous look.

In one quick movement Eddie turned her and placed her face down, with her abdomen over the back of the couch. One of his hands grabbed hers and her t-shirt, leaving her bare from the waist down. (YN) let out a moan at that, getting even wetter from Eddie's mini aggressions. He knelt, still holding her hands, and brought his head to her center.

"You smell as exquisite as always.." He spoke and then took his mouth and began to lick her folds with need. She moaned loudly, rolling her eyes back as the tip of Eddie's tongue found her clit. "My pussy, this is my fucking pussy.." he growled, tasting all the wetness of her.

"Eddie! Shit..!" She moaned desperately at the wave of pleasure he was giving her with just his mouth. The neighbors were definitely aware of what was happening.

He abruptly separated from her center, uncomfortable by the boner that formed inside his pants. He clumsily pulled down his pants along with his boxers, revealing his hard cock whose tip was glistening from the accumulation of precum.

"Shit.." He mumbled at the sight, not at all surprised at the effect (YN) had on her. "You make me so fucking hard.."

With his free hand he brought his cock up to her wet hole. Eddie released a trickle of saliva, trying to make the stretch not so painful for her, and spread it with the tip of his cock over her folds. (YN) bit her lower lip, eager to feel him inside her after several months.

In a slow but confident movement, he entered inside her making sure not to leave any centimeters out. They both moaned at the sensation and didn't move for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling. Progressively, Eddie couldn't hold on any longer and began to move at a normal pace, grunting like an animal.

"God, I hate you so much but this pussy is so wonderful.." He spoke between moans, admiring how his cock entered and left her with ease thanks to the wetness of both of them.

"Well, I hate you, you and your big fat cock.."

Eddie stopped dead when he heard her and in an unexpected movement he released her hands and grabbed her neck, bringing her back to his chest. Without warning he fucked her again, only this time with a rougher and more hateful rhythm. For (YN) it became impossible to hide her moans, the pleasure was absolute and did not seem to end.

"Moan, moan for me. Let everyone know that you will always be my fucking whore.." Eddie laughed as he heard pure moans coming from her mouth.

His balls rhythmically slapped against her clit, bringing sparks of pleasure to both of them. Her hands went to Eddie's arm that was holding her neck, noticing that out of desperation Eddie was still wearing his pants at the height of his ankles.

"Eddie..! Please..!" From the tone of her voice, he knew that she was ready to cum and it wouldn't be long until he did too.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.." Eddie repeated to the rhythm of each hard thrust, feeling her walls hug him as she cums.

(YN)'s legs shook but that didn't seem to matter to Eddie at all, who continued fucking her through her orgasm until he felt she was close. He brought his mouth to her neck, biting lightly as he stifled a moan of pleasure. After a few seconds he ended up inside her, without noticing that due to the force of his bite he had left a mark on her neck.

Slowly Eddie pulled out of her, letting some of his cum fall down her thighs and stain the floor. (YN) had to hold on to the couch to avoid falling to the floor because of how weak her legs felt. Eddie noticed and held her for a few seconds to make sure she was okay. Then, he pulled up his boxers and pants and acted as if nothing had happened, although his red cheeks and messy hair showed otherwise.

Neither of them said anything, there was no need to do so either. (YN) watched as Eddie walked to the exit but turned around before leaving.

"This doesn't end here. Soon I will regain my place on the team and you will be my whore inside the conservatory too."

Then, he left the apartment.

#eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson #whiplash #guitarist!reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn

[tomsmusictaste]

Recommend me an underrated pop punk band you’d think I’ll like

Sure thing! I just talked about these guys in a recent ask, so I'll shout them out again, Rematch are super underrated:

Very quintessential pop-punk, lnotgy-era Neck Deep kinda vibe

OR, another band who I always think deserve more appreciation is Settle Your Scores - if you like ADTR, Four Year Strong, early FOB & NFG vibes, then these guys should be right up your alley!

They've put out 3 records so far and a handful of very cool covers and I NEED them to come over to the uk sometime so I can see them live!! One of my favourite bands and they definitely don't get anywhere near the attention they deserve, but they're fuckin' awesome

Happy listening!

#asks #anon #thanks for the ask! #rematch #rematch band #settle your scores #settle your scores band #sys #live a little #do it all again #how to screw up your future and disappoint your loved ones #the wilderness #pop-punk

[clouddd-hannn]

Boyfriend Material - Park Jongseong

CHAPTER INDEX

PAIRING: ENHYPEN Park Jongseong x M!Reader

GENRE: Fluff, Angst

WARNING(S): Use of profanities, all members are aged up, they're all freshmen students

OTHER(S): Soc med AU, band au, university au, all members are college students, fake boyfriend trope, has narrations also

SUMMARY: It seems you've totally messed up when you uploaded a picture of your "lover" in your Twitter post and your "lover" happens to be a famous band member

*inspired by Best Mistake (or Marked by the King Bs)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Character Intros [ callboiz | twt accs 1 | laser | twt accs 2 ]

ch OO1: life is boring

ch OO2: settling a score with the 'boyfriend'

ch OO3: the message

ch OO4: almost late

ch OO5: strawberry milk

ch OO6: lee heeseung

ch OO7: as a friend?

ch OO8: who is it?

ch OO9: looks small

ch O1O: hold tight

ch O11: unknown is jay

ch O12: finding out the fan

ch O13: making it up to you

#park jongseong x male reader #jay x male reader #enhypen jay x male reader #male reader #bottom male reader #angst #fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #twitter au #college students au #college au #soc med au #enhypen x male reader #boyfriend material #x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpopxmalereader

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Part 5

*language, violence, mention of p*rn, mentions of dr*gs, angst, smexual situations 18+ please*

Soldier Boys POV

He couldn’t give two shits about Butcher’s vendetta against Homelander. He didn’t need his help in settling the score against Payback, I’m the first goddamn supe. The only reason why he stuck around with the boys is because of y/n. He thought he was in love before with the Countess but boy was he wrong. Sure, the Countess was gorgeous and had talent, especially when her lips were wrapped around his cock, but deep-down Ben felt like she was only doing things for him out of fear, a fear he didn’t see in y/n. Y/n had every right to be afraid, he blew up her friend and almost killed her for god’s sake, that’s not my fault, it's whatever those fucking Russkies did to me. He also killed one of her friends, MM was it, family members, okay that was my fault I was so high I couldn’t see straight. To impress y/n that he’s a better man than Butcher, Ben apologized, even though deep down he didn’t really mean it.

Ben and y/n talk about some of the most random shit. She’d tell him jokes he didn’t quite understand but would chuckle at anyway. He’d talk about meeting celebrities that have long since died and which ones were dickheads. On the rare times they had an hour free, she’d explain what was happening in Game of Thrones, ‘Why didn’t the dumbass just zigzag?” “I KNOW RIGHT? Goddamn it Rickon!” She’d have him listen to different bands from various eras; Ben decided that he liked listening to Wanted Dead or Alive. They’d bond over their love for discovering new foods, however, nothing they find will ever replace his love for a double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon.

The rest of the gang slowly warmed up to Ben once they realized how fast y/n trusted him. They understood that he was a man out of time, and he needed to be taught a few things about this day and age. What he can and can’t do, how to address men and especially women, how to work a smartphone, and how to access the internet. There was one time, okay several times, Ben stumbled across a porn website by ‘accident’ on y/n’s ipad. The loud moans on the video echoed in the living room and Ben had to remember how to turn the sound down. Is it this button? *screenshot*. Ben would continue to fumble around with the device until he decided to give up. He’ll figure it out one day, but right now he needed to crank it out.

Frenchie and Ben would talk about their favorite illicit substances, Hughie would ask some dumb fucking questions which would almost always end up with him being tongue lashed by Ben. Even MM found it acceptable to sit on the same side of the room as him, they still never interacted. The only one that appeared to have a problem with how close Ben was getting with everyone was Butcher. Ben didn’t care about that though, he can go fuck himself. Every time Butcher would try to tell Ben something shitty about y/n and how he should focus on the mission and Homelander, Ben would just go about his day and reply, “Takes a real broken man to try and bring down a woman at the top of her game.”

But after all that, Ben’s favorite thing was going on missions with y/n and watching her work, it was his new religion. The way y/n’s hips sway back and forth in her skintight tactical suit showing the world she’s comfortable in her own skin, the brutality she showed towards their victims and the confidence she now exudes, Ben likes to think he had a hand in that.

*

Y/n grabs the knife from Ben’s belt. She proceeds forward to their tied-up victim, one that’s going in and out of consciousness. This is one tough bastard. His face all puffed up, lip busted and the hinting of dark bruises forming on his face. Then, a blood curdling scream,

“Tell us what we want to know! Where are the TNT Twins?” Ben saw his knife lodged just above the kneecap while y/n shook the man by the shoulders.

“I’d tell her where they’re at. She’s supposed to play nice cop.” Y/n twists the knife and screaming rang out again.

“Y/n the bastard is gonna bleed out before we get our info.”

“He won’t bleed out, at least not as fast as you’d think. Where I stabbed him just barely misses the major blood vessels that is embedded in the synovial joint. It’s riddled with nerves so if I do this,” she moves the knife slightly, the victim screams out, “He’ll feel it. If we don’t kill him by the end of this then any infection that penetrates the joint fluid, will.” Marry me.

“I don’t know where they're at now, but I know Herogasm is in 3 days at their place outside of New York!” The man confesses and gave the address to the house, Ben left the man tied up on the chair and walked towards the entrance of the dilapidated warehouse. While the two of you were walking back to Butcher's car, Ben asked,

“Normies don’t have that much force behind them to jab a knife into some assholes knee. What kinda powers you got?”

“I was a field surgeon in the United States Army before I joined the boys, so I know my way around the human body. When I stayed with Grace, they ran me through a series of tests and realized I’ve got strength and stamina, accelerated healing, heightened reflexes and a potential for hand-to-hand combat. I’m still working on that though. When training with Grace’s men, I was be too strong for them and break a bone or something so no one wanted to train with me. That was the end of that.”

“You know, I could train you if you wanted. Will be a little harder to break my bones doll. Plus you get to be up close and personal with the nation's hero Soldier Boy.” Ben throws in a wink for good measure. Y/n giggles,

“Thanks, but no. I’d rather stick with the knives.” Y/n waved Bens knife around in the air. Ben reached out and grabbed it and placed it back in its sheath.

“Which by the way you need your own. You can’t keep taking mine whenever you feel like it.” You could take anything from me whenever you want. Shit, take me right now.

“Are you twats ready to go yet or should I circle around the block?”

*

Y/n’s scent was intoxicating, her musk mixed with the vanilla scent of her perfume, not too light, not too heavy, just right. Ben, being the upstanding gentleman he is, let y/n sit in the front seat but learned the back of Butchers cadillac was torture. The limited leg room, lack of airflow to the back of the car and the shitty rear suspension almost made Ben regret giving up the front seat. Almost. If he positioned himself just right, Ben could see y/n tits bounce up and down in her top every time the car hit a pothole. Ben had to adjust himself on occasion to accommodate the semi chub growing in his pants.

The car was placed in park, and everyone exited. Finally. Once you reached the hideouts front door, Ben commented,

“You know, you have quite a knack for that.” y/n looked up at him questioningly. “Torture. Where’d you learn it? I’m assuming they didn’t teach you that in basic training.” y/n huffed,

“No. I picked up a few things from that one there,” she points to Butcher now slamming his bedroom door shut. “I just never had the stomach to follow through. I shall never intentionally do or administer anything to the overall harm of my patients and all that jazz.” Ben poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“What’s changed?”

“I don’t’ know, but I think I like it.” y/n flicked her hair back using her hands. She was being sassy, is that what they call it nowadays? Ben poured out a glass of whiskey for y/n and they both downed the amber liquid, simultaneously let out an exhale to help rid the burning sensation.

“We’ll I’m a bloody mess, I need a shower.” Y/n went to her room and grabbed a fresh set of clothes. Ben poured himself another glass of whiskey as he watched y/n come out of her room again. She was looking right at him and had this look on her face, eyes darker. Y/n slowly walked into the bathroom, keeping eye contact and gently shutting the door. Ben downed the glass of whiskey and walked over to the bathroom. She wants to get up close and personal with Solider Boy in a different way, got it.

@butchers-girl @xmariakx

@deans-spinster-witch

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys #kimiko the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys amazon #mothers milk #karl urban #frenchie #jensen ackles #angst #hughie campbell #Spotify

[acapelladitty]

coup de foudre

Pairing: Riddler/Reader (& Scarecrow)

Summary: Drinking in the Iceberg Lounge, Edward and Jonathan set their sights on an unsuspecting woman and decide to engage in a 'friendly' competition to win her affections. (2.8k words)

“You’re annoying me.”

Blinking his surprise at the unexpected comment, Edward tilted his head back to the booth as he fixed Jonathan with a questioning stare.

“You say that so often that those words have lost meaning, Crane.”

Visibly irritated, Jonathan Crane knit his brow as he followed Edward’s earlier gaze, his sharp eyes sweeping across the Iceberg Lounge.

“I have asked you the same question twice now and twice you have ignored me. So now I want to see what has captured your interest so much that you would risk missing information.”

Jonathan’s eyes settled on the few patrons who sought refuge at the high stools of the bar.

A young couple, their hands disgustingly wrapped up in each other as they giggled at something asinine.

An older goon, his unflinching dedication to his ongoing alcoholism making him a familiar sight at the bar as he worked part-time security for Oswald in exchange for a discount on certain liquors.

A brunette woman, her shapely legs tilted to the side as she carefully adjusted the dark skirt which lay tight against her thighs-

“Ah.” Jonathan tutted. “Nygma, you pathetic beast.”

“What nonsense has captured your meagre brain now?”

“Is your attention so fleeting that you would ignore a known killer in favour of making eyes at some pretty little thing sitting at a bar herself?”

It was Edward’s turn to scowl, and he did so with open contempt, his coiffed hair jiggling in place as he turned sharply to look at the woman again.

“Some of us enjoy the company of others, Crane. We aren’t so closed off the concept of human pleasure and connection.”

“So you want to fuck her?” Pairing his vulgarity with a swig of his whisky, Jonathan took sadistic pleasure in the slight hint of surprise which crept into Edward’s features. “She’s pretty. Are you so pathetic that you’re afraid of rejection?”

“Rejection? No. But experience has taught me to take care when sniffing around the types of women who frequent this lounge. There have been,” Edward paused, “situations.”

His interest piqued; Jonathan tapped the table in impatience as he awaited a further explanation.

“Some expected payment after the act. One had a husband return home early and spoil the arrangement. One even pulled a gun on me and stole my wallet.”

Jonathan barely hid his derisive snort. “How is Selina getting on this holiday period?”

“Hilarious.” Edward tasted his gin with downturned lips. “We both know she doesn’t need a gun to take a wallet from a man.”

“Brown hair. Blue eyes. Attractive. Very unlike yourself.” Listing off the unknown woman’s qualities, Jonathan could see the appeal. Her short dark skirt was paired with a deep blue shirt – the material very satin-like as the breeze of passing patrons made it shift across her back. Sensing an opportunity for cruelty, Jonathan adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses which sat atop his nose and smoothed the wilder edges of his hair before quickly standing to his feet. “If you are too much of a coward to move then perhaps I should show the lady a good time.”

Striding towards the bar with purpose, Jonathan blatantly ignored the irritated call of his name from the now-incensed Edward as he slammed an open palm on the booth table.

x-x-x-x-x

With the music fading as the hired band set up for a new song, the cocktail within your hand felt comfortably chilled as you bring it to your lips and take a long sip. The Iceberg Lounge. Not a usual haunt which you found yourself in but the weeknight specials had proven too tempting to ignore – reputation of the establishment be damned.

Your shirt felt nice against your skin, providing a good barrier to the chill of the lounge and its ice theme. Three cocktails in with very little plan on stopping, the idea of enjoying the atmosphere and maybe scoring a quick takeaway on the path home was appealing enough to make a soft sigh slip free of your lips.

A presence to your side makes you turn in place, and you find the barstool next to your own filled by an incredibly tall man, his profile showcasing his sharp chin and large nose as he caught the eye of the barman.

“Whisky. Top shelf. Three fingers.” A set of instructions which were quickly followed as he soon found himself with a tumbler glass full of amber liquid being pressed into his thin hands.

Wearing a brown suit, the colour feeling a little dated as it were paired with a lighter brown shirt, the man seemed quite comfortable as he took the drink and quickly inhaled a sip, clearly allowing the liquor to sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

“Good evening.”

Startled, your eyes widen as you realise that the man is speaking to you directly – his head having turned to showcase wire-rimmed glasses that did nothing to hide a crystal blue gaze which sparks a shiver low in your spine.

“Hi.”

“It’s nice in here, isn’t it.”

Blushing at the attention, you find yourself pressing your legs together as you turn your body to meet your new friend.

“Seems nice enough, Mr?”

“Call me Jonathan.” His expression is warm, inviting in a very particular way even as you get the feeling that this is a man who is used to getting what he wanted from those around him.

“Hi, Jonathan.” You incline your glass to him as you adjust the simple silver bracelet which hangs around your wrist. “What brings you here on a weeknight?”

“I’m a professor by trade and the last batch of essays that I received have pushed me to drink.” Jonathan answers in a deadpan tone.

Laughing at the answer, your eyes dip low before travelling up his frame as they admire just how tall he is.

“A professor! Wow! Of?”

“Psychology.”

“Oh, interesting!” Perking up at that information, you allow the alcohol in your system to do the speaking. “Can you tell me something about myself that you already know?”

His gaze once again rolls across your face and you giggle despite yourself.

“I can tell you’re a woman who isn’t afraid to drink by herself in a bar full of monsters and criminals.”

“Jon!” A second voice joined your conversation as another man approached from behind Jonathan’s back, his hand clapping on his thin shoulder for a moment as a wide grin split his lips. “I was hoping to catch you here! I got a message from your wife last night asking for me to remind you that her alimony is due and that the kids aren’t happy that you stiffed them this weekend for your court-ordered visits. Again.”

Dropping into the available stool to your right, the red-haired man continued to speak but this time in a much more hushed tone as he leaned across your space while keeping a sensible difference.

“She’s a hellcat that one! Pamela doesn’t mince her words! I won’t repeat what she said in the presence of such a lovely lady,” he paused to flash you a small smile, “but I think you’d better toddle off and give her a ring before she comes down here herself to drag your wallet from your spindly fingers.”

Turning back to Jonathan as an unease settles in your gut, your eyes widen in surprise once again as his previously warm expression is gone – utterly eviscerated by the hard lines and scowl which now decorate his features.

“Edward-”

“Come on, pal.” Edward, the new man, continued. “I would head off and sort out your mess before something awful happens.”

To your surprise, Jonathan stands and does exactly that, not bothering to spare you another glance as he stalks away from the bar and settles in a booth far off to the side where he almost disappears into the shadows.

“Nice guy,” Edward mutters, “but far too loose with his morals. A bit too fond of the drink and the ladies. A real shame.”

Feeling a little humiliated that you had been so easily taken in by such a womaniser, your elbows settle on the bar as you take another long drink from your glass, the gin cocktail warming your stomach from the inside out as you feel increasingly more tipsy.

“Any good?” Edward asks, pointing to your glass.

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. It’s fine enough. A bit expensive mind.”

“I’m not surprised. I know the man who owns the place and he’s not one for allowing even a dime to slip through his fingers.”

“You know the Penguin?”

“I work as a consultant for certain engineering projects and Mr Cobblepot has used me in that role a few times.”

“What’s he like?” Curiosity itching at your tipsy mind, you turn to face Edward as you ask the question.

“Oh, he’s a very complicated man. It would be hard to describe him in a sentence.”

“Then use more than one.”

It’s a cheeky response and it gets a smile from him, his pearly white teeth appearing almost blindingly white in the dimness of the bar.

“Then let me buy you a drink and I will try, what’s your poison?”

“French 75.” Swirling the dregs of your cocktail around the glass, the cloudy liquid swirls away prettily.

“Barkeep, a lovely French 75 for the even lovelier lady.”

x-x-x-x-x

Giggling as your messy fingers struggled to flick on the light to the supply closet, the click of the switch matched the slam of the closing of the door as Edward kicked it shut behind him. Having stumbled down the corridor as Edward guided you loosely with his hands on your shoulders, you had managed to make it past the staff without being seen as you sought out a more private space.

“I don’t normally do this.” You pant, back pressing against the shelves of extra napkins and tablecloths. “I hope you don’t think the worst of me.”

His red hair almost glowing under the lightbulb which shoddily lit the small space, Edward quirked a brow at your insistence but said nothing as he took a step towards you. The deep green suit which wrapped around his frame seemed much darker in the dimness and butterflies fluttered around your stomach as he dipped his head to catch your lips in his own.

It was a filthy kiss; his tongue immediately demanding entrance into your mouth as his firm hands dug themselves into your hips, holding you in place as he pressed his body against your own. Allowing him to lead, you bring your hands to his chest, playfully undoing his dark tie and dropping it to the floor before ruching your skirt up slightly to allow his knee to plant itself between your legs.

“Did you think you would end up here?” Edward spoke finally, his showman voice having deepened to something approaching a growl. “Being fucked in a supply closet by a man your barely know?”

“Think?” You gasp out as his hands slip down from your hips to hike your skirt up fully, exposing your black cotton panties to his wandering fingers. “No. But i’m an optimist.”

“You have a smart mouth.” Edward muses, emerald eyes flashing as he swipes his thumb along your lower lip. “Maybe it would be better suited elsewhere.”

Following his lead as his fingers deftly unzip his slacks, he quickly frees his half-hard cock as you drop to your knees – carefully avoiding a nearby mop – and quickly take his cock in hand. You can see the faintest hint of his pubes peeking free of the zipper and an absurd bubble of laughter touches at your throat as you take in their reddish appearance.

A true redhead then.

His cock feels velvety and hot in your hand as you pump along the length for a moment. He was a decent length, nothing unmanageable, and a rumble of pleasure rolls through him as you take the tip of his cock into your mouth – teasing the end with your tongue. Moaning at the slight taste of pre-cum, you suck gently at his cockhead and admire the way in which he jerks his hips forward in an attempt to sink more of his length past your lips.

“Christ.” He grunts and you glance up to see his gaze fixed on your expression. You can see yourself in his eyes, on your knees before him as you willingly suck him off and a flash of arousal curls low in your gut and the dampness of your panties makes your thighs press together.

You work his cock over for a minute, alternating between using your hands and your mouth until he is rock hard and visibly leaking pre-cum.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” You ask, batting your eyelashes up at him as you watch a small bead of sweat trail across his forehead.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He concedes and a short squeal slips free of you as his strong hands grip at your shoulders and pull you up to face him once again. His gaze is clouded by lust and you both grunt as he whirls you in place and rubs himself against your back. “Such pretty girls are never usually this good. Will you be a good girl for me?”

Nodding as a blush crawls across your cheeks and down your neck, the slight praise makes your breath quicken and you spread your knees to allow him to slip your panties free of your ass.

His fingers immediately go to work and you muffle a cry in your forearm as a firm finger trails along your slit, gathering the dampness there before spreading it playfully across your upper thigh. Pleased with how wet you were, his cockhead is quick to follow the finger as it bumps messily against your slit – swiping across your cunt and causing a bolt of pleasure to roll through your groin as it brushes your clit.

“Fuck me, Edward.” You groan out, pressing back against him as you tighten your grip of the shelf. “Please?”

“Such a good girl.” Edward purrs, wrapping his free hand around your body as his fingers come to rest atop your clothed chest – his fingers squeezing at your tit gently as he rolled his hips against your ass. With a quick thrust, he buried himself with you and the sudden discomforting stretch paired with the pleasure of finally having your neglected cunt filled makes your breath catch in your throat.

He immediately sets a quick pace, thrusting himself in such a way that his cock brushed that delightful spot within your walls that sent sparks flying up your spine with every stroke. Pressed against your back, he never pulled himself free, instead preferring to keep at least his tip buried in your cunt as he rutted against you like an animal. It was intense and it was hot, and the little grunting breaths which met every roll of his hips filled the air just as quickly as the scent of sex and sweat.

“I haven’t been fucked like this in a long time.” You gasp out between thrusts, your scrambling fingers laying atop his as he continued to squeeze at your chest through your silk shirt. “I’m glad you frightened off that other guy if this is the reward I get for making a good choice.”

x-x-x-x-x

Sitting at his original booth with a blank expression, Jonathan had watched with vague amusement as Edward wheedled his way into the attractive brunette’s graces. It was impressive how easily Edward could compartmentalise his own narcissism to feign interest in another to fulfil his more primal needs.

Charm was a skill which could be as learned as trigonometry and his own experiences had taught him that it was much easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, Jonathan narrowed his features in clear disgust as he set about getting his revenge.

“Radio and tell Cobblepot that Jonathan Crane has just watched two of his patrons disappear into the ground level supply closet and that they did not seem intent on paying their tabs once finished. Tell him he owes me for this tip.”

Recognising the name with a fearful shudder, the waitress nodded as her hands flew to the small black radio which every waitress had fitted to their uniforms as she flitted off to relay the message.

Smirking to himself as he took a sip of his whisky sour, Jonathan angled his body within the booth to offer himself the best view of the corridor leading to the supply closet as he awaited the eventual fireworks which he had just lit the fuse of in an unbridled show of pettiness.

#riddler #edward nygma #scarecrow #jonathan crane #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #edward nashton #edward nigma

[the1975attheirverybest]

The Greatest British Bake-off

A/N: Prompter day 12

Prompt: autumn treats.

Warnings: none

----

"are you...serious?" she rolled her eyes jokingly. "The theme was 'autumn, boys. You've all got brownie m=ingredients."

"Matty picked the challenge." George tattled.

Adam mumbled something about having warned them about this.

Matty cleared his throat as a pre-announcement before speaking authoritatively, "Brownies can be autumnal."

Ross whispered into Matty's ear, "I think you have a special kind of brownies in mind," and they both giggled.

"Baby, this is brownie mix. with this level of laziness, I don't think we can call this a bake-off." she eyed the ingredients he'd laid out on the counter with snobby judgement.

"I've got a few surprises up my sleeve. Just...just time us, okay? lets settle this once and for all."

the title of "Best Band Baker" was at stake. Matty's competitive side has always been both attractive and entertaining, so she'd invited Charli and Carly to collectively enjoy this madness.

"alright boys. find your stations and I'll get a timer going...."

Charli took that as her cue to pour the wine.

"Okay, everyone settled? ready...set...AND GO!" She grinned at the sound of butter packets opening, whisks circling, and Matty struggling to open his Brownie mix and crack and egg.

"You should all give up now." George stated, dipping a finger in to taste-test his concoction, "my brownies will destroy yours without a doubt."

"Less trash talking more baking, George." Matty mumbled, his brows furrowed, his tongue sticking out. "christ! I think I cut myself."

Charli chuckled reminding everyone that, as a general rule, blood in the batter disqualifies you unconditionally.

"Me, me, me! I go first! I've finished first!" Ross announced, ecstatic.

"alright, we've only got one oven, so we'll have to put all of your...uhm...masterpieces in together. it'll be a game of Tetris so let me do it."

"well, let the record show, I was the first to finish. That goes towards my final score, yes?"

She looked at her co-judges, nodding when Charli and Carly both confirmed. "Yes, Ross. It does."

---

"I think we should grade them in the order that they were finished." Charli suggested. "Which means...Ross MacDonald. You're going first."

Ross smiled luminously, cutting up three pieces for each of the ladies to try.

They watched the boys serious and apprehensive faces and decided to milk it, taking their time, whispering their comments to each other and pretending to look serious in contemplation.

"alright, so we all agree?"

"mhm...."

"well, Ross." She took a deep breath. "Upon first glance it might seem like a perfectly respectable Brownie....but, my friend, the edges are a bit too dry and crispy. You'd have to cut off a significant portion of this thing to enjoy a brownie-textured bite. so...7/10."

"George Daniel, you're next, bro."

"George....oh man. you see how it's still runny in the middle? it MIGHT have turned into a brownie at some point, if it ever finished baking. sorry, babe. 5/10."

In the background, Ross and George bickered over who would have the worst luck.

"Adam gets extra points for the presentation. Tell us, are those actual chocolate shavings on top? wow, alright...we might have a winner here. 8.5/10."

"last but not least, Matthew...." She squinted her eyes, looking up at her boyfriend. "I...this color isn't a good sign, babe."

Matty rolled his eyes, "would you just- fuckin try it?"

"you sneaky little...." Carly giggled. "he's added pumpkin to it!"

"AND cinnamon."

Matty beamed "Can't have pumpkin without cinnamon. Obviously."

"hmmm....that's smart. and on theme." Charli mused.

"But Adam's presentation is infinitely more appealing...."

"Right, cuz with the pumpkin added, the color of Matty's brownies...well, it's not the most appetizing."

"He does get points for creativity though."

The three ladies nodded amongst themselves.

"do we have a tie on our hands?"

Matty, watching their debate, began to get visibly worked up. "No! That's not fair! ties are not an option! Here, listen..." He drove the knife through the still steaming dessert, "take another bite! really think about it. let it melt, luxuriously in your mouth. Smell it! It's autumn in your kitchen!"

She smiled, teasingly, at the love of her life. "wow, you really don't like losing do you?"

"Please! we should bring someone else in! Polly will break the tie. Or...yo, Ross. Call John!"

"Hmmmm" Charli winked at them to go along. "Nah, I think if we're being fair, it's a tie."

Matty, finally unable to remain still, walked out from behind the kitchen counter. "The fuck is that fair? fuck no! I demand a re-match! Only ONE band member can be the winner. this is ridiculous! Adam and I can go again! I've gotta run to the shops, though, we'll start again when I get back...."

#promptober75 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader