#the dramatic music amps up

[iamanartichoke]

That trope, mostly utilized in drama-themed media (specifically tv shows) where a character is looking at themselves in a mirror, or otherwise indicating they are talking to themselves, and trying to hype themselves up. Saying things like, "You've got one shot at this," or "No matter what happens, there's no turning back," and so on.

The background music is usually quiet with subtle yet dramatic undertones. Bonus points if the character is sweating, clenching their jaw/fists, or otherwise giving physical hints that they are about to Take On A Serious Situation.

And then it cuts out to show that the character is hyping themselves up to finally conquer their archnemesis: the toaster, or the newfangled espresso machine they've just bought, or they're about to attempt to finally fix the leaky pipe under the sink, or - basically any mundane (yet oddly challenging) task.

Variations on the trope include: a few people are in the room, so the camera occasionally pans to their serious expressions as they listen to the main character's "pep talk," or two characters are arguing about how to handle the situation - ("Damn it, we can't afford to get this wrong!).

Idk, no matter how often it pops up, I thoroughly get a kick out of it each and every time.

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FOUR: holy waters

masterlist

“Give it up for Miss Ayesha Erotica, everyone!” Yn announced with infectious enthusiasm over the radio waves.

Miwa, sporting vibrant teal hair and an equally vibrant grin, followed up with theatrical flair, “God, I love emo boy!”

Yn shot her a smirk. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a sentiment we can all get behind, right?”

Miwa didn’t miss a beat, her excitement bubbling over as she declared, “No Yn, I really, really love emo boys!”, being sure to enunciate the s at the end.

Yn’s face contorts as a picture of Megumi flashes through her mind.“That makes one of us,” Yn quipped, “but I see your point.”

“Seriously, though,” Miwa said, barely containing her glee, “today is shaping up to be amazing!”

Yn arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? Do tell.”

Miwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she revealed, “Because Tridant has graced us with 10 free tickets to their show this Saturday, and we’re giving them away!”

Yn’s face twisted into a mix of dread and disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the studio floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered into the mic, trying to cover her panic with a forced grin. “Trident? You know I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.”

Miwa’s eyes widened in playful astonishment. “Huh, since when did you become such a critic?”

Yn leaned over and mouthed, “Just roll with it.”

Miwa nodded, her grin widening. “I know, but that’s exactly why this is going to be hilarious. We’re going to make someone’s day—and maybe even get you to enjoy yourself.”

Yn groaned dramatically. “Alright, but if I have to endure this concert, you owe me a full day of Solange on the station.”

Miwa clapped her hands together, her laughter echoing. “Deal! Alright, listeners, if you want a shot at these coveted tickets, call in now and tell us why you’re the ultimate Tridant fan. And don’t forget to shout out how much you adore these emo boys!”

As the phone lines lit up with eager callers, YN slumped back in her chair, torn between dread and reluctant amusement. Despite her best efforts to look disgruntled, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Miwa’s infectious enthusiasm. And she knew Twitter would have a field day with this one—especially with a certain raven-haired boy likely to make an appearance in the trending topics.

“Megumi, get off your phone! We need to practice otherwise Gojo will be up our asses!” Yuta barked, his voice cutting through the cluttered practice room like a drill sergeant.

The space was strewn with old gear, tangled cables, and random junk, making it look like a tornado had hit a music store. Yuta, already in dad mode, stormed out, his footsteps echoing off the mismatched walls as he went in search of something crucial.

“Yeah, but Toge’s on his phone too,” Megumi shot back, his fingers still scrolling through his screen, barely lifting his gaze.

“Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about him,” Yuji interjected from the corner of the room, where he was perched on a drum stool, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“Suck my dick ,” Toge retorted, his white hair bouncing as he turned, looking genuinely miffed.

Megumi rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reluctantly shoving his phone into his back pocket. He could feel the buzzing vibrations through his jeans and couldn’t help but smirk, taking a twisted pleasure in the fact that he was managing to irk you.

“Ugh, Megumi, why are you grinning like that? A jumpscare warning would’ve been nice,” Toge commented, half-annoyed, half-amused, from his spot by the amp.

“Go fuck yourself,” Megumi snapped back, his smugness evaporating into a gruff irritation.

Did he really find joy in annoying you? Megumi mused, a hint of doubt creeping in.

“Hey, Megumi, you seem unusually cheerful today,” Yuta announced as he reentered, clutching whatever he’d gone to fetch with an air of importance.

“See? Even Yuta’s noticed,” Toge snarked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“So what’s up, big guy?” Yuji asked, his grin widening as he strolled over, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Did you finally get your dick sucked or something?” Toge blurted out, his tone blunt and unapologetic.

“Why would that make me happy?” Megumi shot back, genuinely confused.

“Because everyone can tell when you’re sex-deprived,” Toge replied matter-of-factly, adding with a laugh, “Plus the horny slash hate subtweets you’ve been posting do nothing for your case.”

“I’m not sex-deprived,” Megumi insisted, his face turning a shade of crimson.

“MY BOY!” Yuji cheered, rushing in for a celebratory dap.

“Not like that,” Megumi murmured, his cheeks burning as the room erupted in laughter, the awkwardness of the situation making it clear that maybe he should have kept his phone in his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. We need to nail this new song for our upcoming gig,” Yuta finally says as the laughter dies down, holding a stack of sheet music with an air of importance.

“Finally!” Yuji cheered, bouncing on his drum stool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toge muttered, putting his phone away and grabbing the microphone. “Let’s see what this new song’s all about.”

Yuta handed out the lyric sheets and nodded at the band. “This one’s a bit different—more upbeat. I want to hear energy and precision. Let’s start with the intro and build from there.”

extras!

• the band in sjap is called triDANT not triDENT bc the group collectively came up with the name together but toge was the one entrusted (first mistake) who had to write it down for copyright purposes etc paper work ete anyways this man CANNOT spell so that's why it's with an A instead of an E lol

• yes the group definitely clowned him for it but they couldn't change it so it stuck and they ran with it

• toge did go to the gym but he snuck in when yuji went and they definitely blasted him on their social media page and stuck his face on the wall of shame😭

• the tickets sold out COMPLETLY and yn lowkey wanted one for herself…

• definitely did not smile to herself when panda told them he scored her tickets thanks to toge..

• dramatic ass

• megumi has convinced himself he only texts yn to piss herself and nothing more than that

• i aspire to be at his level of delusion

• yn, panda and nobara all went to whole foods and asked if they had any close to expire tomato’s at the back (they did)

• they went home with 2 crates full of the most saggiest wettest tomato’s in existence

• hope u guys enjoyed the week overdue chap :3

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Tech Support

I haven't participated in a @steddiemicrofic challenge since February, but I have missed them! Here's the August prompt plug at 437 words with a T rating.

"It's broken," Eddie repeated. "I know you think you're suddenly some kind of tech expert, but my amp won't magically turn on."

Steve sighed. "Dude, I literally sell computers. No expert, but I'm sure I could figure something out with it."

"It's dead as a doorknob," Eddie said. He cocked his head to the side. "Where does that expression come from anyway? Doorknobs were never alive."

"You're getting distracted."

Eddie stuck his tongue out. "Look, it's old. I'm lucky it's lasted this long. I've been slowly saving up because it was only a matter of time."

"Just let me look." Steve let out a long-suffered sigh. "If it is dead, what would it hurt?"

Eddie didn't hesitate at all as he said, "My pride."

Steve snorted. "Is your pride worth the cost of a new amp? And a canceled show tomorrow because you'll never get a new one that fast?"

Eddie shrugged. "Probably not." He slowly stepped aside. "Fine, oh wise tech guy! Fix my amp."

As Steve walked around him, Eddie muttered, "This should be good," but Steve staunchly ignored him. He was used to Eddie's dramatics.

Steve stood over the amp as he considered his options. He didn't know enough about the hardware to try and peel away panels or yank at the internal mechanisms. Eddie had been right that a little basic computer repair didn't come close to understanding how complicated musical equipment worked. Still, the computer had to be the more complex of the two, right? It didn't hurt anything but his own pride if he couldn't figure it out.

That little pep talk handled, Steve knelt next to the amp. He considered it for a moment, studying the knobs on the front before feeling around for any hidden buttons. His fingers wrapped around something at the back, and Steve paused.

He turned back to where Eddie had leaned against the wall for a smoke break. "Solved your problem."

Eddie waved his cigarette before dropping it. "Doesn't look like it's on to me. You didn't fix it just because you declared that you fixed it."

"No," Steve agreed, "but I bet it turns on when I plug this in."

Eddie gaped as he wiggled the cord back and forth. "You're shitting me!"

Steve laughed as he moved through the steps Eddie had forgotten, grinning at the hum of amp and speaker crackling to life together. "Sorry, babe. Sometimes it just takes an expert."

Eddie glared, even as he moved forward to wrap his arms around Steve. "Smart ass." He pressed a quick kiss to Steve's nose, an apology or thanks Steve didn't know.

[yuqiyu]

Guitar Lessons (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ part 2

Summary: During one of your hangouts at Eddie's trailer, he offers to give you some guitar lessons.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, cunnilingus, face riding, making out, eating out, fluff, friends to lovers (kinda), slight angst, dramatic reader, no use of y/n

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“How long have you played?” you ask as you graze your fingers over the body of the guitar. It’s smooth and cold, the design fitting right in with Eddie’s aesthetic.

He’s looking at you cutely, leaning back on his forearms against the bed. There’s a sparkle in his doe eyes as he shifts a bit.

“So I see you’ve met the lady of the house,” he says, a slight lilt to his voice. “Go on, take her down.” 

As you carefully step over a messy pile of cassette tapes beside another pile of clothes, Eddie makes a grabbing motion and mumbles a That’s right, come to papa. You stifle a laugh, releasing a snort in the process. He shoots a look at you, fully defensive. 

Once the guitar (or the love of his life, as he’d say) is in his hands, it fits perfectly like a puzzle piece on his body. His neck is slightly craned over it. You think he’s looking at the strings, but as you move closer, his eyes are closed.

He starts plucking out a couple chords, a sweet melody completely contradicting the visuals you are being fed. You begin to close your eyes as well, allowing the music to flow through the both of you. It sounds beautiful despite not being hooked up to an amp.

It has been only a couple of months since you first met Eddie in the hallway between classes. You recall a head full of messy curls hanging over what you thought were interesting choices in an outfit. Girls were avoiding him left and right as he picked up the remnants of his stuff off the ground after a couple jocks had so kindly knocked them out of his hands. 

When you had picked up a notebook that had fallen behind him, a few loose papers with unfamiliar charts and symbols fell out. You plucked them up for a closer study.

“Just getting ready for the Satanic rituals this Thursday,” he mused. You looked up in surprise. 

He was a very pretty man, his hair framing his slim face surprisingly well. His large eyes bore into you, and you swore you could get lost in the dark abyss behind them.

“What?” 

“Sorry, bad joke.” He looked at you sheepishly, then to the notebook in your hands.

“Right, sorry.” Even after you quickly handed it back to him, he continued staring at you, amused. 

“Are you new?” 

You shuffled your feet, feeling even more awkward than you already were. 

“Yeah.” And the rest was history.

You open your eyes when the music stops. Eddie is staring at you with a crooked grin, inches away from your face.

“Jeez, you’re so creepy,” you laugh as you push him off. Ever the drama queen he is, he falls backward onto the bed limply, the guitar following suit. His hands are clutched over his heart as his face fakes a wounded expression. 

“I just gave you the best serenade you will ever hear in your life, and this is how you repay me?” He all but shrieks at you as you continue slapping at his arm.

“ Ever? That’s such a loaded statement, Eddie. You haven’t even answered my question.”

He jumps back up, then pauses for a beat. “I don’t know, my whole life I guess,” he shrugs. 

You stare back at the guitar, still being held snugly in his arms. There was no way to stop the idea of you being there instead, but you shake yourself out of it.

“That’s pretty cool, though. I don’t know how to play any instruments.” You copy his pose from earlier, supporting yourself up by your forearms. He twists his neck towards you, that beautiful damn smile beaming a hundred miles per hour your way. 

“Really,” he questions, dragging out the word playfully. “How about I, the greatest guitarist ever, teach you some new things.” 

“Again, such a loaded statement, but okay. Hit me.” 

The next hour or so is not exactly what you were expecting. He has an old acoustic guitar hiding somewhere in his closet (which he searches for with difficulty, under more piles of items) and has you test the waters on it. With the pleasant surprise of Eddie literally wrapping your back with his arms, moving your fingers to the right formations, you are basically floating on cloud nine. 

He is a demonstrations type of guy, not an I-will-show-you-first-then-you-play kind of way, but in an I-will-wrap-my-gorgeous-hands-around-yours kind of way. This shouldn’t have shocked you, ever since he cupped his hands over yours just to help you roll some dice when you hesitated during a campaign, at least. You often took sneaky glances at his fingers after that day, how could you help it? The day he finds out about your secret hand fetish will be the day you change your identity, because not only would it feed his already inflated ego, he would never let you live it down. He already has so much ammo against you, and you dread that only one more will put you six feet under. 

Eddie was exceedingly patient with you in teaching the strings and the chords, even though you had trouble memorizing where to place your fingers. You wish you could say the same about previous teachers, who were truly wicked demons compared to him. 

You let yourself falter and lean backwards, just enough for Eddie to notice. He suddenly peels your fingers off the instrument and gives little kisses to them. 

You yank your hand back in surprise and squeak out, “Eddie!”

His stupid antics always make it hard for you not to fall for him. It sometimes feels like he does it on purpose, like he means to fuel your feelings even more. 

“Just thought they needed some healing kissies ,” he replies, his pitch increasing at the end to mock you. 

“Kissies are only for couples,” you snapped, unable to process anything but the imprint of his soft lips on your hands. You hope you don’t look as dazed as you feel right now. 

He simply ignores you and strokes the neck of the guitar, still wrapped comfortably around you. “You’re a natural at this, y’know? Maybe you should get some real lessons.” 

“Yeah, right. It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You give your hands a good shake, loosening all the muscles as you sighed in relief. Dark, red lines were etched deep into your fingertips. Looking at them only made the pain feel even more real. 

He grabs them again, gripping them tightly. “Hey—hey, careful! These hands have unknown potential! You could be a god with these.”

“‘Thought you said you were the best out there,” you smile, nudging him in the ribs. He feigns offense.

“I am, but if there’s gonna be someone better out there, I’d rather it be you!” 

You can only roll your eyes at him as he drops his chin on your shoulder. He must be bored out of his mind right now, so you push for a new topic.

“Why are you being so touchy today,” you tease, turning to look at his face. It is much easier now to admire his features now that he is sitting so close to you. His eyes are glazed over.  “Wait a minute—were you high this whole time?” 

He gives you a guilty look.

You aren’t sure if you should be impressed that he was able to teach you so well under the influence, or if you should be disappointed. His affections to you often occurred under one and only one circumstance, and that was when he was ridiculously high. He must’ve smoked more than usual. The thought hits you like a crushing weight, smashing through your heart and sinking down to your stomach in just under five seconds. You want to throw your head into your palms and cringe at how hopeful you were, even though you’re already used to the reality of this godforsaken friendship. But then the sinking feeling falls even deeper into your pit when you realized something might’ve happened to make him reach for his stash like this. 

“Did something happen today?” You don’t mean to probe, but even stoner Eddie has his limits for most of the time. Sometimes the overcompensation is a little too obvious, even for your obliviousness. 

His head is still lolling on your shoulder, though this time there’s a faraway look in his eyes. There’s a silence that hangs thick for what felt like forever, until you feel his chin shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sulk in.

“Don’t tell me it’s girl troubles,” you huff out. The thought of it already has the heat rising to your cheeks. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush, but to see said crush pining for another person was simply soul-crushing. 

He must notice your expression, because he looks at you amusingly. “Why? Would you be jealous?” 

When you shoot him a deadly look, he only giggles and reassures you. You’ve heard this speech about a million times already: you’re his best girl-friend and no one can ever beat you. To be honest, it’s hard to be beat when you’re his only girl-friend, but hey, it’s still a win. If he has to constantly remind you, though, maybe you’re being too obvious. You remind yourself to tone it down around him.

Eddie suddenly jumps off the bed with renewed vigor and swipes the guitar from your arms before laying it carefully somewhere in the closet, then plops back down beside you. His face is serious, the playful energy lasting only for a few seconds.

You ease yourself down slowly, lying on your side as you soak in the sight before you. His arms are tucked under his head, ankles crossed at the edge of the bed. 

“I only ask because I—”

“ Because you care. I know.” 

You give him a minute. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingling with each other, and if you relaxed enough, you swear you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. You’d usually miss the peace you had prior to meeting Eddie, but now, when there is no sound of his annoying voice or music or anything , it makes you nervous. Because a vulnerable Eddie is a sad Eddie. There was no easy way to learn this. 

“I heard you went on a date with Harrington,” he starts. His hands fly in the air as he continues. You can’t help but stare at the glint his rings give off in the different angles. “Went to the mall and everything.”

It’s your turn to look amused. When he catches it, he presses a finger to your lips, which only causes you to snicker. “How could you ignore me for some jock. Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that day?” He has such an intense expression, backed up by the furrowing of his brows now hiding under his bangs. He seems so distressed, although you can’t help but smile at him in silence. 

“Is that all you have to say to me?” He’s practically begging for response at this point. 

“First of all, Munson,” you emphasize as he winces at the demotion of his name. It was easy to tell when you don’t feel like humoring him. Ever since the beginning, it had always been Eddie . When you had tried calling him anything else, it just didn’t feel right in those moments. And it still doesn’t. “It wasn’t a date. It was a double date!” 

His jaw drops as he rubs a hand over his face, having expected you to at least try to comfort him, like you usually would. It was shameful, honestly, the way you would scramble to mend his sorrow every single time. You pause for a second, letting the moment really sink in before continuing again. This is payback , you thought. “It was Nancy, Steve, Robin, and me. It wasn’t really a date, Eddie. I don’t know why you’d even care.” 

There’s a slight quiver in your voice when you articulate the last line, but you hope he doesn’t notice. However, it seems like that’s the only thing he noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, missy, but I care a whole lot when my only friend in the whole wide world goes missing when I need her most.” The glazed look in his eyes hasn’t faded, but the seriousness is still there. You almost wish you aren’t still having this conversation because it only breaks your heart further the more he opens his goddamn mouth about friendship this, friendship that. But your love and concern for him overshadows it all, and you want to smack yourself over the head for that. 

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents of Eddie (if that was even humanly possible) and ponder your thoughts. You like to do it because It keeps him on his toes, you remember, as if he’s always hanging onto your every word, inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. 

You allow your eyes to wander across his walls, taking in the various band posters, and then back onto the guitar. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the confines of anything related to him, but the more you learn about him, the more you realize he’s just a huge dork who plays fantasy games and the guitar in his free time. He does a great job at keeping the air of mystery around him, though, and you wonder if people actually realized who he truly was, maybe they’d bully him a tiny bit less. That is, if they weren’t so scared of being sacrificed by him. He shakes you out of your conscious slumber with a couple snaps of his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey—are you even listening to me?” 

His hand continues waving in your face for a few more seconds before you swat it away. You’re looking at him with as much sincerity as you could possibly muster. He’s doing the same, though you notice the way the corners of his mouth tug down, like how they usually do whenever you reject one of his hugs.

“Can I level with you?” you ask.

He looks at you strangely, eyebrows raise in question. There’s some clarity to his eyes now, and you feel yourself getting sucked in temporarily. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps thickly. He nods.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about your love life and who you choose to date, so why should you? ” The words come out with more venom than you mean to, but you couldn’t—no, wouldn’t , take back what you said. Even though you’re lying, it feels good knowing that he at least doesn’t know you have a massive one-sided crush on him. It gives the illusion that you’re in control, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Eddie’s features soften. He looks so hurt, and you can’t bear to look at him for more than two seconds. The room is silent again, though it’s lacking the comfort that usually comes with it. You slowly sit up, and start grabbing your things. Before you leave, he pulls your wrist back. His eyes are pleading.

“It’s still early,” he begins. “If you want to stay longer.” You look sparingly at his face, mostly darting to his bedsheets or the walls. His grip tightens. 

“I—um, I’ve got some overdue homework I need to work on.” 

He knows you well enough to know that if there was one person he knew that always had their shit together and done on time, it was you. But he lets go, and your heart stumbles because if he had asked you one more time, you would’ve stayed. You guess some things are just not written in the stars, and tonight was one of those things.

He only purses his lips and exhales, “Alright.”

He doesn’t walk you out the door today.

The next time you see him ends up being the following night. He had called the morning of, asking if you wanted to come over for more “guitar lessons.” When you didn’t reply quickly enough for his liking, he simply said, “See you at eight. Sharp, okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart twinges, so you agree. 

Eight sneaks up on you before you know it. The night air engulfs you as you rap your knuckles against the Munsons’ trailer door. It rattles violently, so you stop, fearing that one more would completely knock it off the hinges. You hear a familiar voice ring out, welcoming you in.

When you’re inside, you spot Eddie running around chaotically in the small kitchen. Various snacks are being crushed by his arms clutching them close to his chest, and he nearly slams into a table (not without cursing) while tossing them over onto the couch. 

He finally sits down among the mess, accidentally on a bag of chips, and it crunches. He makes a butt-shaped hole with the snacks next to himself, then affectionately pats the area and looks at you. 

You scooch around and pop open a bag of gummy bears. “We’re starting the movie early today, huh?” 

“You gotta return it tomorrow. We can’t have any more distractions now, can we?” He fiddles with the remote, pressing buttons here and there. There’s only static on the TV. He groans and gives it a good few smacks. 

“Wow,” you drawl. “Eddie Munson himself, actually remembering due dates, and not even his responsibility? That’s new.” He turns around to retaliate, but is hit by a gummy bear straight to the face. “Bullseye,” you laugh.

He only sighs and walks towards the kitchen. His hand squeezes your thigh on the way and, with an exasperated voice, says, “Be good ‘til I get back.” 

The movie ends without another hitch, and it’s not long after that both of you are back in his bedroom.

“So,” he says as he claps his hands together dramatically. “It’s time for lessons by Mr. Munson himself.” He picks up the acoustic guitar and seats himself down next to you on the bed. “Wanna show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“To be honest, not much. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson,” you shrug, taking over and strumming out a few test chords. He wets his lips absentmindedly.

“Well, you seem to remember the C chord, at least,” he nods. “But—” He cups your fingers and shifts them downward. “You’re a bit too high there, sweetheart.”

The touch burns through your skin and sets your mind, body, and heart aflame. It takes you a second to answer. A second too long, is what Eddie thinks. 

“Okay…what about my G?” you ask quietly, not trusting yourself to breathe.

“Your G what? G-string or G chord?” 

You blink.

He winks.

And your body is at war. The rope inside you tugs between choosing violence or letting yourself melt in his arms. It’s close to betraying you, until you choose fight-or-flight’s third sibling: freeze. 

Eddie cackles as he shakes you awake. You feel your consciousness slam back into your body with full force. Your mind is going insane. What did he mean? Does he want to do something? Does he want me ? You’re about to open your mouth, to say Yes! Yes, Eddie, I want you!

“Bad joke. Sorry.”

You wish the moon would become unlatched from whatever science-y, physics-y thing that’s keeping it in orbit and hurl towards Earth and just crush you to death right then and there. How does one recover from this?

Except you do. He spends the next thirty minutes teaching you an easy song that includes the whopping four chords you’ve learned. It goes as smoothly as you hope, until the heat radiating off of Eddie and wafting onto your back is making you uncomfortably sticky. 

When you had left the house earlier, you wore tank top with a denim jacket to cover your arms. It wasn’t your best look, but you weren’t trying to impress anyone (more of a self-persuasion, but who’s really checking?). The decision feels like a huge mistake now, because you are definitely not comfortable enough at the moment to let him see your skin like that.

Each touch, each movement, and each breath of Eddie’s fanning over your neck so deliciously gives you more and more confidence as the night moves on. He’s pressing all the right buttons, as if knowingly, and your barrier begins to crack. 

You carry on with full composure, as you always have . He gives you a simple task: play at least halfway into the song perfectly. When you do, he leans in, lips slightly brushing your earlobe, and whispers, “Good girl.”

Your face begins to heat up at a rapid rate. Your body, on the other hand, isn’t sure whether it should tense up or relax. Eddie notices and places his hands on your shoulders, giving you quick squeezes sympathetically. It only makes it worse.

Not sure how you did it, but you were able to get the guitar safely on the bed before jumping off of it entirely. 

“Wow,” he exhales and simpers. “I just wanted to see if you had a praise kink or so—”

He’s cut short by your glossy eyes and trembling lips. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so he waves his hands uselessly. 

“What, so I’m just a joke to you?” Your voice betrays you, as much as you attempt to conceal your vulnerability. It sports a matching look on your face. This is it , you think. You lasted only a couple of months after making your first friend at this stupid school, and thinking about it makes you feel ashamed. Somehow, this feels worse than a real break-up. 

“I’m—Hey, look at me, please. I’m so sorry.” He’s scrambling to fix his mistake, hands all over you, and eyes frantically searching you for a hint of forgiveness, even if he knows it’s futile. 

“Eddie, I need to go. It’s fi—”

“No!” he cries, causing you to flinch. His grip softens on your shoulders, but is still unwaveringly attached. “It’s not fine.”

Even through the thick material of your jacket, the knowledge that he’s still touching you has you squirming painfully. “God, please , stop touching me.” 

Now, Eddie’s heart is breaking into a million pieces, and you know it well. Since the first day you met him, you could tell what his love language was. From the way he’d ruffle your hair affectionately after a campaign win, or how he’d pull you into a bone-smashing hug whenever you brought his favorite snack to school, to simply the way his eyes would twinkle right before giving you a first bump every time you parted ways. In a sense, this was a real break-up to him. 

His arm slowly slides off of you, with a pained look on his face. He then stares at you expectantly. When you make a move to the side, he reaches out towards you, though not close enough to touch.

“Please don’t go yet. Just—” He closes his eyes and groans against his palms, and you’re sober enough to know it’s not directed at you. If you hadn't felt so terrible, you’d laugh at the way he was repenting. You stare slack-faced at him, and while it’s not the reaction he was hoping for, he takes it as a second chance. “I don’t know why I said that.” 

“Like how you don’t know why you said, ‘g-string’ or why you just messed with me all night?” you nearly shouted. It takes a lot of energy to force the sass through your pain, but it shows enough to cause Eddie to shrink within himself. You can’t even feel bad anymore. Maybe this was an overreaction on your part. He’s always been like this, so what is different now? In a way, there is still a part of you that actually does feel bad, but only because you let yourself waste away in your feelings without ever bringing it up to him. There is no way for him to really know how you feel about him without communicating it. Even then, normal friendships aren’t like this. Friends don’t whisper dirty things into each other’s ears. Friends don’t playfully flirt with real sexual tension. So it’s not fair that you have to endure this while he’s the only one having fun. 

Eddie, on the other hand, wants to stuff his mouth with his fist. He wants to pull his hair out, he wants to scream into his pillow, but most of all, he wants to hold you and apologize over and over until he’s completely lost his voice. For you, he would grovel as much as you want him to, and to him, that would be nothing if it meant you’d take him back.

His voice cracks when he manages to find the courage to speak again. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my behavior.” He looks at you intently, eyes roaming your face, searching— begging . 

You look away, and it scares him. He’s never seen you cry like this, and it’s even worse since he’s the reason why. His arms twitch, and he realizes that that was the last time he’ll ever be that close to you again. 

After a million years (according to Eddie), you sigh, “That’s not the issue.” There’s a fierceness to you now, surprising the both of you. You jab a finger at his chest viciously. “My issue with you is that you keep taking my feelings lightly.” His brows furrow, and it only pisses you off even more. 

“I like you, you asshole!” There was no point of return. All of that was out the window the moment he crossed a line. Instead of feeling scared or sad, like you thought you would, you were instead enraged with an addicting fury. “And you .” You make a point to jab him especially hard for emphasis. “You have the nerve to mess with me all night long—not to mention even whining about how I should spend every waking moment with you when I already do…and you know what the kicker in all of this was? I did wish I was at the mall with you! I did wish I was on a date with you!”

His forehead is creasing, eyes wide, and mouth pursing. When it finally opens, he breathes out an Oh. And he suddenly he knows how to make things right.

In your complete, utter mess of a breakdown, you don’t realize that you had balled your hands tightly into a fist until you let go, and the searing pain from your nails digging into your palms lets up. 

Maybe you were okay with destroying this friendship before, you try to convince yourself, but the regret starts pooling into your belly along with nausea. You’re too ashamed to look at him, yet you also don’t have the courage to move from your spot. So once again, the room is just filled with the sounds of labored breathing and bated breath, both standing in a face-off.

And then you will your legs to move, to run far, far away. But Eddie catches you first, and his face is sloppily smashed against yours as he pulls your lips into his own. Certainly, this is bold, the boldest thing he’s ever done, he’d argue. Still, he’s unable to withdraw because once he has you—your scent, your soft skin, and your gasps keeps him wanting more and more. 

It only ends when both of you come up for air, foreheads still glued together as you laugh mirthlessly. “This whole time?” you murmured. 

You can feel the smug grin on his lips as he attacks the junction of your neck. You melt against him. “Yeah.” He continues down to your shoulder after pulling your jacket off, his mouth never leaving you. “So, was I right?”

“Hmm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to speak anymore. Somehow, Eddie has gotten you back to his bed, and you feel his necklace glide across your chest coldly, sending little shivers along your spine. 

“‘Bout you having a praise kink,” he mumbles. He’s taking his time on a particular spot near your collarbone, making sure to really mark you well. 

You’re too embarrassed to reply, so you hope he moves on from it. He doesn’t—worse, he stops. He’s holding himself up with his arms, caging you in, and looks at you mischievously. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. Don’t go shy on me now. ” 

You reach up to press a kiss against him, but he easily flicks you back down like a fly. His brow arches, though he’s still grinning arrogantly. 

“Fine, yes, yes, yes, I do.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan into him when he’s back on your mouth, tongues slow dancing. You still feel hot, but it’s different this time around. It’s more freeing—like you’ve let something go, and now you’re finally able to enjoy it. 

Eddie is a much better kisser than you imagined. You’ve thought about how he’d taste and how it’d go, oh absolutely, but this is real . You memorize the way his tongue darts around as if mapping out every part of you, mixed in with the faint smell of cigarettes and pure testosterone. 

He’s gripping your chest as he makes his way down and massages it to Hell and back. You can’t help but love how primal you’ve got him, which only turns you on even more.

“I’ve wanted to do many…many… many, ” he accents each word with a wet kiss down your arms. “...unholy things to you since I laid my eyes on you.” 

You strip off your top and bra, tossing them to the side with urgency. He only chuckles at your brazenness before giving both of your breasts a firm squeeze. You push him onto the bed and straddle him. “C’mon, Eddie, your turn.” He looks at you incredulously, then his stare turns dark after a blink of an eye. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, leaving little goosebumps in their wake. 

“My, my, who knew you were so forward? All of that innocence…just an act.” He reaches out and captures your chin, firmly holding on as he angles your face around. The cold air drifts against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, suddenly feeling timid. “No, no, open them for me, sweetheart.” 

When you do, you feel him twitch under you, provoking you to ground back down on him. Your eyes are half-lidded, hips rolling. A guttural groan expels from his throat, and he grips you to a standstill. 

“Get—ugh, take it off already!” you whine, clawing at his t-shirt. 

He’s looking at you with so much lust, yet it’s filled with tenderness; his hands rubbing circles into your own only reaffirming that. After a moment of silence (in which Eddie is aggressively admiring your beauty), he licks his lips and speaks.

“I want you to know that if we continue, this won’t be the last time. There will never— ever be ‘going back to being friends’ or ‘acting normal.’ Because to be frank with you, princess, I can’t do that.” His eyes take in your silhouette, wandering slowly and deeply, because he’s so afraid. So afraid that this will be the last time you let him see you again. He wants to memorize as much of you as possible in case it gets taken away. He takes a deep breath. “So, if we do this. I want more of you—not just the sex, but I want to take you out. And… I won’t do this if you don’t want that. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done deal. Got it?”

You’re unsure whether it’s the adrenaline running through your veins or the sexual tension you feel for him snapping, but you run your hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. For whatever reason, his thoughtfulness turns you on even more than you thought you could be. You ache for his touch, and the desire builds into a searing pain. He wants to stop you, but he can’t; you’re too mesmerizing. 

“Eddie,” you moan out. He whimpers under your touch, and he bucks up into you. The muscles in his hand flex against your hip, fighting against his vices. Who knew having a pretty girl on top of him would have him become such a mess?

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’re not helping me here. I need you to tell me you—” He flips you under him, knee wedged conveniently between your legs, pushing barely enough against your core. He’s frustrated in more ways than one. His eyes implore of you, with the addition of his voice being much deeper. He lets you rub against his thigh for a moment before pulling back. He pins your hands above your head and hovers closely over you just enough for you to hear his harsh whisper. “Now, now, you’re not being very good, are you? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you beg.

“Understand what?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I want you to be mine. My boyfriend, my heart, my soul, and—” You slide your fingers down his body. “Your cock .”

“Shit,” he grins cheekily. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He moves to unbutton your jeans as his tongue sticks out in concentration. You don’t understand how he could still be so cute during an activity as sinful as this. Once the garment is off your legs, you return the favor, nearly ripping his shirt off his back. 

He quickly pulls you back onto his lap. You continue running your hands down his chest as one of his fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, rubbing the skin of your hips with the pads of his fingers. His other hand swipes teasingly down your cunt through the fabric, causing the thick wet line to fully soak your panties immediately upon contact. You rut against him, despising the barrier that is his jeans. You need to feel him now . 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, right before pulling your underwear off completely. “There’s something I wanna try first.” He pulls your hips up to his face roughly, and your hands land on the wall above him for support. You giggle.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to put on the reigns.” Your heat is right above his mouth; you can feel his hot breath fluttering across, making you drip even more. His soft lips target your core, making sure to run his tongue over your clit from time to time. In the meantime, his hands continue roaming your body, starting from the bend in your knees to your quite indulgent thighs, all the way up to your chest. As you’re stuck in his maze of pleasure, he catches you off guard and pulls on your nipple. You yelp in surprise and arousal, the electricity of it aiding you in the roll of your hips against his face. He smiles against you, easily lapping up any juices that come out. 

It causes you to release your most lewd sound of the night so far, and this man is soaking it all up. He loves that he’s the one to make you feel this way and no one else.

“Bet Harrington couldn’t make you moan like that for him.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, I wouldn’t have even let him.”

“Careful with those eyes, I don’t want them rolling to the back of your head unless you’re bouncing on my cock.” He continues suckling at your clit and your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the sensation. You’ve played with yourself before, but it was never like this. You could only get so far with just your fingers rubbing idly as your mind sneaks off somewhere else. Just the way his tongue moves around you so languidly has you close to your climax already. 

He abruptly palms both your ass cheeks and pushes you deeper down into his face, to the point where you’re terrified you’re going to smother him—but he keeps it there, firm and steady, and darts his tongue in deep .

Now, you’ve seen this man’s tongue countless times before. Whenever pure concentration is necessary, that one time he provoked Jason Carver in the cafeteria, and the many periods of time when he merely wanted to make funny faces at you to cheer you up, like a child. Have you thought about what they’d feel in your mouth and inside of you? Naturally. But what you failed to understand was the sheer strength and length of each thrust. When you look down at him, you expect to see multiple appendages because there is no way he could work on so much of you all at once. Oh, it is so much better than you thought.

The thin sheen of sweat on his skin has his bangs sticking to his forehead. The rest of his hair falls nicely around him, like a halo under your thighs. The tip of his nose is bumping wonderfully against your button, bringing you closer and closer to your release. He’s looking straight at you, cheeks slightly hollowed out from the sucking motion. He squeezes your ass and gives a single slap. Your arms fall from the wall and land on the sheets next to him. Unable to hold back any longer, you start tweaking at your nipples. The sight has Eddie groaning into you, sending heavy vibrations straight to your folds.

“ Fuck , Eddie.” You want to scream, but you’re afraid that the neighbors might hear. You stifle a few more moans to the depths of your soul, until you feel your climax inching towards you. He answers incoherently into your pussy, but you know what he wants. His hands grip you tighter, helping you grind against his face. With one more hard suck around your nub, your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your center pulses with each high, and you swear you’re seeing stars. You topple over, body limp beside Eddie as he licks his lips. His face is drenched with your cum. 

“Was it that good, princess? I didn’t even get to finger you yet.” He waves his fingers humorously in front of your face. He’s leaning on one arm, admiring the work he’s made of you. Your chest is still heaving from the intensity, and you fan yourself.

“God, yes, it was so—I don’t even—have you done this before?” 

“Oh, but of course,” he replies without missing a beat. You looked at him in surprise, then at the mess he made out of you. “What, do I seem like a virgin?” Your eyes are half-lidded, and you feel the embrace of sleep coming over you, but you’re able to muster out a yes and a few chortles for good measure.

Eddie had gotten up in the meantime and wiped his face with a towel, then used another to wipe you down. You croak out a “ Thanks” as he places a kiss on your forehead. He’s about to pull his covers over you, but you grab his hand with a frightful ferocity, alarming the poor man before you. He looks at you in question. 

You fight the sleep in your eyes, and yank on his belt loop. He falls over you, quickly catching himself with an arm next to your head. He chuckles. “What is it, sweetheart? Haven’t had enough?” 

You palm him over the jeans, and he hisses, but keeps steady. It was the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever experienced in your life, and as a result, your body’s energy levels are depleted. You feel guilty, wanting to return the favor, especially since he still has a hard-on, but it was getting more difficult each second that passes by. He notices and moves to the side of the bed.

“Maybe next time,” he says.

“Next time,” you whisper.

And the world fades to black.

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking of a steddie neighbor “enemies” to lovers AU. Oh my gosh it’s so long again and now there’s ronance. 

Steve is a middle school teacher, and he’s lucky to find a small house that’s close to the school he’s teaching at after the summer ends. In fact, he seems a little too lucky. It’s only after he’s signed all the papers that the old tenets show up to warn him not to buy the house because the crazy neighbor next door. 

Steve kind of shrugs it off and thinks nothing of it because he’s dealt with crazy before, and his students give him something new to deal with every day.  

During the move in process, he keeps glancing at the dark house next door. Sometimes he thinks he sees something, but whenever he looks there’s nothing there. Until one time when the neighbor seems to get something caught in the curtains and is unable to close them fast enough. But still, it’s only a small slit open and with the sun beating down, the glare is too harsh to really see anything. 

For the rest of the day, he doesn’t see a single curtain move. And by the end of the day, when all his boxes are moved inside his house, Steve wants more than anything to just go to sleep on the bed he tiredly put together. Some of the corners aren’t tucked in properly, and Steve definitely doesn’t remember what box he put his pillows in, but he collapses on his bed quickly on the verge of sleeping. 

Then, he can see, or rather hear, what the neighbors meant. There’s a screeching noise and then some loud crazy riffs being played from some guitar next door. Steve covers his ears and groans when he realizes that it’s not going to help anything. It’s as if the neighbor is playing their guitar outside the house.  

It’s a new era of Steve’s life, so instead of letting it go, he decides he’s going at the issue head on. He groans as he pries himself out of his bed. Okay, maybe letting it go would be a better idea, but what happens when school is back in and he needs to sleep? 

This is absolutely the right decision. 

As he steps out the front door, he instantly realizes the problem. The neighbor has cracked the window next to Steve’s house as if he’s trying to be a nuisance. Maybe the old tenets were right. 

As Steve approaches the front door, he glances around the porch and catches sight of a skeleton sitting on a small chair with a mug attached to its bony hand. Upon closer inspection, Steve notices it’s a Garfield mug which makes him smile a little. Maybe a little crazy isn’t too bad. 

But the blasting from the house is bad. Steve takes a deep breath and loudly knocks on the door. The music halts almost immediately and it takes a few moments and a bit of cursing from the other side of the door for it to finally creak open. 

Oh Christ. 

The door slowly opens revealing longer dark curly hair, pale skin, big doe eyes, full lips, and altogether Steve’s absolute daydream which he guesses might quickly turn into a nightmare as the man smirks. “Hello, my handsome new neighbor,” the man flirts easily. 

Steve won’t play this game though. He’s too smart now to open up this easily. His mouth forms into a tight straight line before he corrects the man, “Steve. And you are?” 

“Eddie. A pleasure to meet you,” the neighbor replies with a bright smile as he bows dramatically. 

Steve nearly groans at the sight of his head going dow- 

No. He’s not doing that. That’s a recipe for disease. Instead, he’ll get to the point. “Nice to meet you, too, Eddie,” Steve ignores how nice the name falls out of his mouth as he continues, “It would be even nicer if you closed your windows or turned down your amps this late at night.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and he glances down at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock.” 

Steve sighs, “Yes, and I need to sleep.” 

The neighbor eyes Steve up and down for a moment. “What if I kept playing?” 

Steve has no idea why he says it, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, tiredness from the move, or the fact that his neighbor is a bit overwhelmingly hot. But he answers, “Then you’re starting a war.” 

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say because the tampered down mischief in Eddie’s eyes light up. He holds out his hand, and Steve reluctantly takes it. “War it is,” Eddie says with a shake of his hand. “Goodnight, Steve.” Eddie squeezes his hand one time then releases it. The door is closed before Steve can process what’s happening. 

With a sigh, Steve makes his way back to his house. Before he can make it there, the loud music already starts blasting again.  

A little crazy is definitely bad. 

Nearly an hour later, the music continues as Steve desperately tries to put a pillow over his head to block it out. He’s never been one that’s able to sleep with loud noises, but, no matter what, he will still wake up early in the morning and be unable to fall back asleep. 

He groans and turns to the clock he ended up unpacking instead of sleeping. A few seconds until eleven o’clock. He watches as the seconds tick by, and as soon as it hits eleven the music stops. Strange.  

But then the music continues again, and Steve nearly screams. But then he realizes… it’s different. It’s softer as if he’s playing a lullaby. And as much as Steve hates to admit it, it’s kind of lulling him to sleep. 

It’s definitely not on purpose though. Even from their brief interaction, Eddie doesn’t seem to be the type to go easy when calling war. Maybe he’s just trying to get into Steve’s head. 

As the soft music drones on, Steve finds himself drifting off to thoughts about his new neighbor.  

-:-:-:-:-:- 

The next morning, Steve wakes up to the sight of the sun rising and blinding him through his windows. He needs to hang up his curtains. He stretches and slowly gets out of bed knowing he won’t be able to go back to sleep. 

Time to start unpacking. He makes his way to the garage and peaks out the window on his way. All of Eddie’s curtains are drawn, and Steve doubts that he’ll be awake for hours. 

When he opens the garage door, he spots something… interesting. Something that will make Eddie’s life a little miserable… 

A lawnmower. 

Now, Steve knows the lawn doesn’t really need to be mowed at the moment. But to get revenge… it’s worth it. 

He still waits a few hours until it’s a somewhat reasonable hour for mowing. He doesn’t want the other neighbors hating him. He decides to start up the lawnmower right next to the window Eddie left open the night before. 

A few seconds later, Steve sees the curtains yanked open and the window slammed down. He lets himself smirk a little at the mini tantrum. As he’s finishing up the first strip, he hears the front door to Eddie’s house slam shut even over the lawnmower. 

Steve turns the other way to face his and Eddie’s houses as he mows the next strip. He glances up and waves with a big smile. Eddie is swamped in a large black blanket and squinting, or rather glaring as if the sun had personally offended him. 

Steve stops the lawnmower and takes a minute to gloat. As the noise dies down, Steve asks, “Not a morning person?” 

Eddie just frowns at him. It looks as if he’s taking all his brain power to come up with a response. His voice, low and raspy with sleep replies, “I would be if I had a better view.” 

Steve huffs but looks down at his shirt that’s already starting to get a little damp with sweat. The morning sun in the summer is overwhelmingly hot, and Steve doesn’t want the farmer’s tan. He winks at Eddie before stripping his shirt off and tossing it at him. 

“Better?” Steve asks as the shirt hits Eddie and falls on the deck. 

“Much better, thank you,” Eddie says and has the nerve to join the little skeleton on his porch to sit and watch as Steve mows. 

Steve tries not to think too much about it, but he’s overly aware of the attention. Not that he doesn’t like it, but he feels like he’s not winning the war. Time to call in Robin for reinforcement.  

-:-:-:-:-:- 

The next few days pass by with Eddie playing loudly every night until eleven o’clock when he finally starts playing soft tunes that lull Steve to sleep. Steve pays him back by one morning mowing Eddie’s lawn while he watches. The next morning, he spends weed whacking his own yard, and the next day is spent weed whacking Eddie’s. Every time, Eddie is woken up but sits outside. 

If Steve is being completely honest, the music helps him sleep, so he doesn’t feel like he’s losing the war too bad. But today is the day he figures out how to win because it finally worked in Robin’s schedule for her to come over later. 

And after Steve shares the whole story after dramatically telling her it’s too much to share over the phone, he regrets it as Robin bursts out laughing. “You’re telling me,” Robin stops to laugh again, “You’re telling me that you’re complaining about going to bed an ‘hour later,’ but the reason you go to bed early is because you struggle to fall asleep. And his music is actually helping you, so you’re basically going to sleep at the same time. Plus, you’re doing his yard work while he ogles you, and you think this is a war?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what this is,” Steve says seriously. No other explanation.  

“No, this is a weird mating ritual. God, your neighbors must hate you,” Robin comments before laughing again. 

Steve sighs, “Robin, I seriously want to win against this guy. I mean, I even nicely asked him to stop playing so late.” 

Robin eyes him. “Did you really?” 

“Probably not,” Steve answers honestly, knowing it’s no use to lie to Robin. She figures out everything anyway. 

“Here’s a plan,” Robin says opening a box and looking through it. “Why don’t you just ask Eddie’s neighbor what they do when he plays late at night? They clearly have some solution. And the true way to win the ‘war’ is by letting it not affect you anymore. Then, you don’t have to do yard work, and you’ll be taking away his view in the morning.” 

…honestly, it’s a great plan. It really is. So much so that it’ll probably stop this whole war thing in its tracks. “No, I have to win this thing,” Steve replies instead of agreeing.  

Robin sighs and grabs him by the wrist. “Come with me.” Instead of giving him the option, she practically drags him out the door. “Now, we’re going to meet this next-door neighbor of the infamous Eddie and give you a reasonable solution before you do anything irrational.” 

Before Steve can disagree, Robin has him dragged out the door and two houses down. She knocks on the door. “And maybe you’ll see that the solution was so simpl-” 

The door opens and out comes the other neighbor. Steve watches as Robin’s jaw drops as she takes in the sight of the shorter girl with curly hair and big blue eyes. “Hi?” The girl says.  

Robin’s mouth opens and closes. 

“Hey,” Steve says and reaches out his hand to greet her. “I’m your neighbor two houses down, and this is my best friend Robin. Sorry for stopping by in the evening. She was just telling me that I needed to introduce myself to some of the people in the neighborhood. Right, Robin?” Steve prompts when he notices that the girl is eyeing Robin too. 

“I’m Nancy,” the neighbor says with a smile. She reaches her hand out to Robin. 

“Robin,” Robin blurts out and takes a moment to shake Nancy’s hand. 

The two girls shake hands for an embarrassingly long time. And Steve hates to interrupt for Robin’s sake, but he has to ask, “So, we were wondering how you dealt with Eddie’s music at night.” He cringes as he takes in how blunt he is, but he’s honestly curious. 

Nancy laughs and replies, “Honestly, it was much worse before you moved. He would play until the early AMs.” 

Steve thinks she must be wrong. Maybe he continues playing that lullaby stuff through the night. “You mean the softer lullaby stuff, right?” 

Nancy shakes her head with a small smile. “Not at all. I’ve never heard him play like that before. Then again, my solution is noise cancelling headphones.” 

Robin smacks Steve on the arm, “I told you the solution was simple. Plus, this really doesn’t sound like war, does it?” 

Nancy leans against her doorway and asks, “Is doing his yard work supposed to be war?” 

“That’s exactly what I said! See, Steve,” Robin says with a bright smile that Steve notices catches Nancy’s eye. 

“Fine, then you two can see what happens when I don’t do anything tomorrow morning,” Steve says resting his hand on his jutted-out hip. Robin’s lip twitches as she holds back on making fun of him for the “mom stance.” 

Robin smiles and says, “Well, I don’t have anywhere to be tonight or tomorrow morning, so I will stay the night.” 

“I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep so you can’t,” Steve lies, knowing exactly where the air mattress is packed away. 

“You can stay here,” Nancy suggests. “I’ll also be up early to spy on the drama.” 

Steve recognizes the exact moment Robin processes what she’s said as her eyes widen a bit. “Promise I’m not a murderer,” Nancy says with a wink that seems to further melt Robin’s brain. 

As much as Steve doesn’t want to give Robin more reason to make fun of him in the future, he has to give it to Nancy for how direct she is. He thinks he’s gonna like this girl.  

“Well, we’ll go grab Robin’s stuff, and she’ll be back shortly. I’m going to crash pretty soon before the show starts,” Steve says with a smile. “It was very nice to meet you.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Steve. I’ll see you soon, Robin,” Nancy says with a wave as she closes the door. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Robin, please save your freak out for a few moments when we get back inside my house. She can see you through the windows.” 

Robin whispers under her breath a few more expletives on their quick walk back. “Holy shit!” Robin yells as they get inside. 

Oh boy. 

A few pacing freak outs, a quick pep talk, and a lot of fixing hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror later and Robin is finally on her way to Nancy’s. Steve watches through his window as she makes her way down the street. He has no idea how the hell it happened, but he’s happy for her. 

…hopefully Nancy isn’t a serial killer… 

Okay, maybe it’s a bad idea, but Steve needs to ask Eddie. He makes his way out his back door and sneaks over to Eddie’s house to the side window that’s already slightly open. He knocks on it a few times.  

Eddie opens the curtains and lifts up the window some more. “Why hello Romeo. Why are you at my window instead of the door? Not that I’m complaining of course.” 

“Nancy and my friend are spying on me. But I needed to ask if Nancy is a serial killer.” 

Eddie stares at him for a moment. “Have you met Nancy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you know she isn’t a serial killer,” Eddie replies. “Is Robin the girl you were walking and holding hands with earlier?” 

“Is that jealousy I’m hearing?” 

Eddie shrugs. “Just trying to get in the head of the enemy.” It’s clear that Eddie is trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing but is failing to do so. 

Rather than torture him by not answering, Steve quickly insists, “She’s my best friend. And she’s also staying the night at Nancy’s.” 

Eddie sits on the window ledge. “Do they know each other?” 

“Just met,” Steve says with a wide smile. 

Eddie laughs and Steve can’t help but join him. Gosh he looks gorgeous. 

Nope. Enemies. Right. 

“I always knew Nancy had it in her. So, Robin’s… cool, right? I’ve got to watch out for Nance’s sake,” Eddie says and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Steve has the urge to tuck in the other side as well. 

“Yeah. She’s great. Incredible really. Always has had my back,” Steve says trying not to gush too much. He needs to get out of this conversation fast before he does something dumb like continue it as if they are friends. “Well, I’m heading off to bed.” 

“And I’m heading off to practice,” Eddie says with a wink. “Goodnight, Steve.” 

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve replies and holds eye contact with him for a moment as he walks away. 

Ending this war will probably be a good thing. 

-:-:-:-:-:- 

The next morning, Steve wakes up at his usual time, but instead of going to his garage, he starts to go through the boxes he hasn’t unpacked. He stares at the pile and sighs, “Yeah, this is gonna suck.” 

A few hours later, and there’s a knock at Steve’s door. Probably Robin bored because nothing is happening. 

He makes his way to the door and opens it. Not Robin. “Hey, Eddie. What’s up?” Steve asks, leaning against the doorway. 

Eddie is weirdly not wrapped up in a blanket. He has his hands in the pockets of black, ripped jeans and rocks back on his heels. “I was just… checking if you’re okay.” 

Steve stares at him for a moment and takes in the slight look of worry all over his face. He nods, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Eddie nods back and glances down. “I was just worried because… you weren’t waking me up with the usual ruckus. Thought something must've happened." 

"Just unpacking this morning instead," Steve says with a shrug. Better to play it off as if it's nothing rather than giving Eddie the impression of the feelings that have already started to form. 

"Right, well. I'll... head back then," Eddie says with a little wave. He makes it about two steps back before he turns around. "Is this about the music? I'll stop playing so late if it's really bothering you." 

This is the part where Steve is supposed to say yes to this, send Eddie on his way, then celebrate. But after four days of this routine and so many nights of restful sleep... "No, it's not... it's not that. It’s um...” Steve trails off at a loss for words. “The war’s still on.” 

Eddie smiles but it doesn’t seem entirely genuine. “Ah, getting in my head I see. I’ve gotta hand it to you, Steve, you aren’t just looks.” 

Steve watches as Eddie leaves, shoulders tense as he walks back to his house. He catches sight of two figures two doors down waving at him. Robin and Nancy look like they’re huddled together, and shit, if Robin can do it so can Steve. 

“Eddie!” Steve yells out. Eddie stops in his tracks and slowly turns around. “How about we make a peace treaty over dinner tonight?” 

Eddie’s face slowly lights up with a genuine smile. “I’d really like that.” 

“Finally!” A voice that sounds a lot like Nancy yells breaking the moment a bit. There’s loud laughter and a celebratory screech that is definitely Robin. 

“Tell me,” Eddie says walking toward Steve’s porch, “How does one deal with loud and annoying neighbors?” 

Steve laughs. “I have no idea, but I think my answer and Nancy’s will be very different.” 

“Oh yeah? What are your answers?” Eddie asks, now walking up the steps.  

“Well, you have to ask other questions first like: Are they one hundred percent your type to the point that you start a war with them that turns into you doing their lawn shirtless just to get their attention while they lull you to sleep at night?” 

Eddie dramatically taps a finger on his chin and squints off as if he’s searching for the answer. “I have to say that Nancy... her answer will most likely be ‘no’ to that. I’m not sure though. Maybe we should ask her.” 

Steve snorts and shoves at Eddie’s arm. Eddie locks eyes with him for a moment, and Steve can’t help but wonder if he could get lost in them forever. “Eddie?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes out as his eyes trace over Steve’s face and track down to his lips. 

“Want to make that peace treaty over breakfast instead of dinner?” 

Eddie smiles. “Absolutely,” he says and walks past Steve into his house before he’s invited inside. Steve can’t even be upset about it. 

A glance down the street and Steve sees that Nancy is also heading inside but Robin trails behind looking towards Steve. He lifts his hand up and Robin does the same resulting in a quick air high five. They’re going to have a lot to talk about later. 

My bday ficlet to you <3

[taintandviolent]

howlin' for you ; Kai Anderson x reader

summary: Winter throws a Halloween party, Kai dresses up as a werewolf, and “hunts” you, one of Winter’s hotter friends. How cute, you dressed up like a cat for the party. He knows that masked, it’s the only way you’d ever consider fucking him. w a r n i n g s: 3.4k words! hard to get!reader, dubcon / slight non-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, rough blowjobs, handjobs, mask kink, mentions of fucking in animal costumes, animal noises, despite all that this isn't a furry fic. a/n: [🎃 part of #lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] baby's first Kai fic... be gentler than he was to reader. full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

You peel your eyes open, reaching blindly for the flat, room-temperature can of soda on the floor.

“Hello?”

A pause. You take a sip.

“Hey Winter. Yeah… yeah, I’m still coming.”

She asks if you decided on a costume.

“Yeah, I’m going to wear that kitty outfit. The one with the fur on the tummy.” You sniff, and add: “Is your fuckin’ weirdo brother going to be there?”

Winter pauses. “Yeah, Y/N… we live in the same house. I can’t lock him in his basement.”

“I fucking will, then.”

“Go for it.”

You hang up the phone.

-

You take a deep breath and open the door. It’s crowded and there’s bodies everywhere; undulating to the music or clustered in corners. The room smells like the inside of your trick-or-treat bag as a kid; a melange of candy, fabric and latex. There’s a fog machine going in the corner, and it hisses as you walk by.

Winter has decorated the place adorably; black and orange streamers hang from every corner and are stretched across the entire living room. There’s bowls of candy on the coffee table, flanked by little paper table toppers of various spooky characters. As you walk by, you flick one, smiling as it bobbles back and forth.

You saunter across the living room, swaying your ass back and forth. You felt hot; the little sexy kitty decision had been a good one. So far, the Grease Lord hadn’t made his presence known - maybe he locked himself in the basement and didn’t want to play with Winter’s friends. Good.

Your head turns back and forth, surveying all the costumes. Most of them are minimal effort, but you appreciate the fact that they came dressed up at all. Better than the alternative of showing up in a ‘This is my costume’ t-shirt. One costume in particular catches your eye. Big werewolf. It’s a good costume; he’s got the whole ripped and shredded clothing thing going on, boot covers, gloves with claws and fur… this dude at least put in a little more effort than the guy wrapped in nothing but a sheet and telling people he’s Caesar.

Wolf stands in the corner, leaning against the wall and offering a nod to anyone who interacts with him. Whether or not that’s a part of his wolfish act, or just the bland personality of the dude in the costume, you aren’t sure. His head turns slightly, and you assume that he’s clocked you. You cover your mouth with your kitty mittens in a dramatic gasp as you pass him, amping up the scared kitty act. You throw in a little hiss as you round the corner. Very cute.

You head for the punch bowl, hoping that Winter made it because whenever Winter makes the drinks, they're good. Much to your relief, she’s actually there, refilling it. Sick. She’s dressed as a fallen angel and the black feathers on her wings flutter as she leans over the bowl.  

“Meeeeooooow,” you say, swiping at her halo with your furry mittens. She immediately recognises you and grins, happy that through all of your party fatigue from last night, you still made it to her party, too. You pull her in for a hug, swaying her back and forth. Winter was never a hugger, but you decidedly were, and made a show of it every time.  

“Have you seen Kai yet?” She asks, almost nervously as she hands you a cup with red liquid quivering at the top. You take a large gulp, savouring the perfect blend of punch and alcohol.

“Oh, so he is here. Great .” You take another sip. “But no, thank god. He seems like the type to hate cats, so hopefully he’ll leave me alone.”

She quirks a brow, questioning your statement.

“Nevermind.” Not a conversation you were ready for. When you turn to look back at the wolf in the corner, he’s gone. There’s something in your gut that gives you pause, but you chalk it up as a disappointment that the wolf had lost interest in his feline prey.

“I’m gonna’ mingle,” you say, wiggling your fingers at her.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.”

“Oooh, that’s no fun.” You frown. “If you see Kai, tell him I hate him, pretty please.”

Winter looks uncomfortable. Underneath all his cringey faults, he is still her brother and your hate for him has always been extreme. She wondered if it’s something else… something less about trying to convince yourself to be nice to him and more about trying to convince yourself to hate him. She’d never dare say that to your face, though.

As you wander, there’s a few people you recognise and hold meaningless conversations with. That is, until the wolf is in your peripheral again. He’s holding a cup, but not drinking from it. Probably because he couldn’t… not without taking his mask off. Which, given his current objective, seemed counterproductive. Curiosity killed the cat, they say, and you were curious… so you ended your current conversation, darted around the corner, and picked up a casual one with a mutual friend. Thomas? Brad? Despite digging your fingers deep into your brain, you couldn’t recall the poor bastard’s name. It didn’t matter; your eyes flitted back and forth, surveying your surroundings. Not more than a minute later, he was there again, nestled into the opposite corner. Close enough that you could see him, but far away enough that you wouldn’t notice, if you weren’t paying attention. Fortunately for him, you were. Your heart skipped a beat, thudding behind your ribcage.

“Hey, hold that thought - I’m gonna’ get more punch.” They can hardly hear you over the heavy music, but nod anyway.

You race back to the kitchen, and before you get there, the wolf is waiting at the archway, one arm braced up against it. You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling an unmistakable heat in your belly. This chase is turning you on.

Shit.

“Here, kitty-kitty….”

His voice sounds familiar; it’s throaty, but there’s a medium-pitched bite to it. You can’t place it, try as you might. “Do I know you?”

He shakes his head very slowly and very honestly, the little faux-fur fibres around his ears swaying with the action. You believe him, or pretend you do, because the concept of fucking some random werewolf-masked individual is way hotter than finding out it was some dork you met twice at another party.

You turn sharply on your white high heels, and start walking in whatever direction isn’t inundated with people. Regrettably, that’s headed towards the basement. You can feel him rampaging, gaining on you, hearing his heavy steps creaking behind you. For a second, you’re almost afraid. He barks low and catches up to you faster than you anticipated, and when he backs you against the wall, he pins your arms above your head with one hand. His chest heaves as he stares at you, waiting for you to say something. You don’t. Instead, you lean your head against the wall, laughing towards the ceiling. The steps to Kai’s weirdo basement are directly to your right. You hear the TV downstairs, immediately assuming it’s something political. Maybe he’ll hear you fucking this guy. You hope he does. You really do — and you hope it irritates the hell out of him.

“Ohhh, who’s a big bad wolf?”  You yank one of your hands free of his grip to feel his boner outside of his tattered jeans. It’s thick and hot, so you stroke it a little. He gives you a throaty ‘Awwooo’ and involuntarily bucks his hips into the palm of your hand, forcing heavier friction. The chase must’ve got him going. It got you going, that’s for sure. You can feel your cunt aching, and clenching every time he thrusts into your hand.

You move your hand away, pulling an angry groan from the werewolf. With a smile, you run your fingers deeply through the little tuft of grey and white fur that’s peeking out from his flannel. Fur grinds against fur as he humps your hand, heavy breaths echoing from inside the mask.

“Big…. Bad wolf…” you say again, sniggering. You’re delighted by his horny aura. That was one thing about Winter’s punch — it was strong. “You want me to blow your house down?”

He nods, and you sink to your knees, watching as he makes quick work of his jeans. He pulls the two pieces of fabric apart and reaches into his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free. It bounces heavily in front of your face, beads of clear collecting at the slit. Your tongue darts out of your mouth, running along the ridge on the underside of his cock before reaching the tip, and lapping the pre-cum up like the good little kitty you are. It’s heavy on your tongue, so you alleviate some of the weight by grabbing it.

His cock is hot to the touch when you grip it, and you revel in the way the warm, supple skin moves beneath your grip. You roll your fingers one by one over the tip of his cock, playing with it. He groans above you, looking down as far as the mask will allow. When it’s not enough, he bends forward, arching over you.

He has a better visual now, and his chest starts to heave with every pass of your fingers. When the teasing becomes too much, he takes a fistful of your hair, and yanks it back. Your silky hair slips easily through the rubber claws, so he pauses, and rips the gloves off, tossing them down the stairs. You hope Kai trips over them. He grips your hair again, much harder this time and forces your gaze upwards to stare at him. Stare up at the beast who could annihilate you, kill you if he wanted to. Your cunt flutters, hot and wet and leaking into the polyester fibres of your costume.

He pinches your jaws, applying pressure to force them open. His grip strength is fucking insane, and you wince, letting out the tiniest mewl. His other hand hangs at his side, and the veins are swollen, trailing up into the sleeve like thick roots. Satisfied with the way that your pretty little mouth hangs open, waiting and eager, he grips himself and wastes no time. He slaps the tip of his cock onto your tongue over and over again, before pulling your head towards it. Your throat immediately seizes up, but you force it to distend, to relax. A wave of icy panic settles over you like someone’s draped a sheet over your shoulders. He’s going to throat fuck you. You see his eyes darting around your face, watching your mouth, your eyes…

Your eyes immediately begin to water as his meaty dick violates your mouth; pressing into the back of your throat, bumping into your cheeks to stretch them out, grazing along your teeth when your jaws involuntarily close in hopes of hindering his thrusts. It doesn’t work. Both hands are pressed against the wall, fingers splayed out. He pounds into you, slipping in and out of your perfect little throat.

He fucks it harder, groaning louder and louder. The hollow sound of his cock hitting the back of your throat almost sends him over the edge. Your breath is sticky with his pre-cum, and every time you try to pull your head back for a reprieving gulp down, he slams his hips into your mouth, bumping the back of your skull against the wall with a thud.

Desperate, you reach up, wrapping your slender fingers around his cock, tightening around the base until he pulls away, looking down at you.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” You ask, putting on your best coy kitty voice in hopes that it will end the merciless barrage on your throat. Your words are congealed and messy, airways still coated with his fluids. He considers this for a moment, a whole slew of thoughts playing out. Finally, he nods, and hastily brings you to your feet.

Grateful that the diversion was working, you reach down between your legs, finding the cloth covered zipper and pull it open. It was added for convenience, and it certainly served that purpose as the werewolf guided his heavy cock into your wet, waiting slit. At first, he toys with it, smearing his head over your puffy, sensitive clit and pulling desperate, whining gasps from your mouth every time he drags it upwards. But soon, that isn’t enough for him, and he buries himself in you, plunging his cock to the base. The stretch of your walls, your cunt doing her best to accommodate his girth, had you crying out. He was bigger than you’d prepped yourself mentally for, but at least your pussy was gushing with lubrication, ready for every bit of what he had to give you.

He found his speed quickly, humping you with reckless abandon. Trying to find something - anything to use as leverage to hold onto, your fingers slipped into the slit on the backside of the mask, toying with almost shoulder length strands of hair. They’re soft, and slightly wavy. Wait. Not that other guys couldn’t have wavy hair, but the thought is too overwhelming. Lightning fast, you reach for the mask, pulling it up just above his chin and Kai’s vascular hand catches yours, holding it tight. The visual is enough for you to realise.

“No fucking way.”

Immediately, he yanks the mask back down over his face and cups his hand over your mouth, suppressing the scream that he knew was coming. He’s pressing hard enough that the cartilage in your nose begins to ache. You stare hard into the eyes of the werewolf, breathing heavy through your nostrils as you’re seeing what you hadn’t seen before. Those dark, almost black brown eyes staring back at you. The same ones that you’d seen roll at you or glare at you so many times before. The same fucking ones.

You heard his chuckling breath behind the mask. He leaned forward, pressing the latex nose against your ear and began panting into it obnoxiously, like a dog. His thrusts matched his breath, his rock hard cock pounding up into you remorselessly.

You wrestle away from his hand, freeing your mouth enough to speak. “Get your fucking dick out of me, Kai.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He thrusts harder and crams his fingers in your mouth, as though he’s pulling your next words from your throat. You bite down and he groans through clenched teeth. You feel his cock twitch inside you. He likes this.

“Is that what you really want? Say it and I’ll stop.”

You struggle with the words, they won’t leave your lips the way you want them to. You can feel your own arousal leaking down your thighs in response to the way his dick is hitting every spot.

“I knew it. Always have.”

That infuriated you, but you couldn’t argue. Not with his fingers in your mouth, or the veins of his thick cock massaging your insides better than any of your dildos at home did.

“I knew you didn’t hate me,” he started. You could hear it in his voice that one of his egocentric, mansplaining, delusional monologues was on the way. Usually, you’d just roll your eyes at Winter and turn to your phone, but he had you in a position where you had to listen. He liked that, too. You let out a loud moan as he hammered inside of you, hoisting one leg up to your chest.

“The opposite, actually. You act like such dumb little slut around me, so angered by everything I do. I see through it. Your act. Much like waving a bloody steak in front of a hungry dog, your salivating is irrepressible.”

Did he really just say what you thought? “Listen, you piece of —“

He forces you to cut yourself off with another moan, pressing your leg farther into your chest. Your cunt swallows him whole with every thrust, and the hatred you have for him is leaking out of your pussy and along your thighs.

You slam your head against the wall, letting your neck go slack. It feels so good, Kai feels so good.

“Say it, say you fuckin’ like it…”

You shake your head. You won’t give him that satisfaction. His bare hand rears up, and comes down across your face. Your cheek burns with stinging, searing pain before you even have time to process that he’s just slapped you - backhanded you with months of pent up rage and frustration. Enraged, you reach for the mask, yanking it off and tossing it down the stairs where it tumbles to the bottom step. His greasy strands are separated with sweat, and a sheen of it covers his shapely nose and forehead. There it is; the face that was the receptor of so many insults, so much hatred. Every time you saw it, you ran your mouth like a schoolyard bully with a crush.

“I will fucking kill you….” Anger dribbles out of your mouth like spit. You wanted him to see you say that unobstructed.

“Yeah?” Kai challenges, reaching down to thumb your clit like the joystick of a game controller. He’s smiling, absolutely delighted by your intrinsic, feminine anger. Your recalcitrance fuels him further, and he bucks his hips up into your cunt, the head of his cock bumping deep into you, as far as it can go. You writhe under his grip, clenching your teeth. It almost hurts, but he’s building it, faster and deeper, and the burning coil in your stomach winds tighter. It burns just above your bladder. You feel like you have to piss, and Kai says,

“Defiant little slut.”

Seconds later, you’re losing it over his cock, your orgasm splashing over his jeans and your furry legs.

He doesn’t stop fucking you and within a few thrusts, you’re so severely overstimulated that your legs are quivering. Briefly, you become aware of the Halloween music that’s playing out in the living room. A salty ribbon of sweat drips into your eyes, stinging.

“S-stop, fuck… stop.”

He ignores you and keeps fucking you, drilling your swollen cunt like it’s a tournament and he’s determined to win it. And when he does, Kai grips your throat and holds your jaw in place. He assertively holds your gaze as he shoots his hot, thick load into your weeping pussy, making sure you wished that you hadn’t taken the mask off.

His once prevalent boner was now fading away, and Kai stuffs it back into his jeans, keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer before he turns and casually descends his basement steps. He stops to pick up the mask, swinging it back and forth like a child’s toy.

Doused in sweat and anger, you want to collapse to the floor and scream. Instead, you zip yourself up, wiping your slick fingers off on your thighs, and somehow manoeuvre around the crowds to the bathroom. You reel around and lock the door, before turning to the sink.

You brace yourself, holding yourself over the sink’s basin. You look at yourself in the mirror; your cute little whiskers are smeared on one side, and streaks of mascara are running down your cheeks in its place. Your black nose is rubbed off, undoubtedly smeared in Kai’s bush of pubic hair. Fucker. Your pink lipstick is practically gone, the only remnants are a faint hue around the perimeter.

As you stood there in Winter’s bathroom, head hanging over the sink, you searched for the disgust, panicking as you rifled through your mind to find the inevitable horror that you were going to experience. You were ruined by that cringe monkey — he violated you. Right? You waited for the gag, the vomit even, to hurl itself up your throat. That was what was supposed to happen after something like that… wasn’t it? The disgust? The anger?

But it wasn’t coming. In fact, something much more alarming had settled in its place. Your cunt still felt warm, and you rubbed your thighs together, smearing the mixture of cum into the soft kitty fur. You felt invigorated. You hadn’t been fucked like that…. Ever. You heaved a sigh of relief like someone who had been submerged underwater, and was suddenly let up.

You reach into your discreetly placed thigh pocket and pull your phone out, hurriedly swiping past the notifications that flooded your screen. You pull up Messages, and tap on Winter’s icon. She’s in your pinned contacts, a favourite.

I found your brother

You hit send.

Almost immediately, the status went from delivered to read, but Winter didn’t reply. You know why, and she knows why.

You might’ve hated Kai. But your pussy didn’t.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy /

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[liverspaghett]

Loser Trapped in A Hot Body

Jooyeon x fem reader

Super late birthday special for Joo

W/c: roughly 2700

Warnings: degrading (m rec), sub Jooyeon, Joo is needy whiny and sensitive , begging, not proofread

tags: @sol3chu @joosbasschick

Today was the day you'd waited several months for. Today your favorite band will be playing at your local bar. You adored their music and hoped that they could become popular, but you're glad they aren't as of now so seeing them wasn't nearly that expensive.

A small fan base doesn't mean a less crazy one though. The fans were known for being particularly blunt and would share anything with you, be it you wanted to hear or not. They were renowned to be fairly horny people. Can you blame them though? I mean the group was hot. Especially the bassist. The band didn't name their fan base, the fans did it themselves. They call themselves sluts. You want to say you're embarrassed to call yourself a slut, but really you're not, it's hilarious.

You get dressed in a cute and revealing outfit. You look ready to go “whoring about” as your friend would say. She means it lightheartedly as you two joke that way often. You fix your hair and makeup. Your smudgy eyeliner and shaggy hair suit the look perfectly. You put in your septum ring and step back to look at yourself. After a moment of thinking, you decide on some chunky black sneakers.

Your friend looks at you approvingly. She would be going with you. She was already dressed and ready. You were both ready to leave now. You excitedly grab your bag and get in the car, driving to the bar. The sun is on the verge of setting when you head inside.

The bar is lively with people all about. Music blasts and lights dance in the dark room. Your body betrays your mind's appeal to appear calm and confident. You turn around, moving your body to the music. You feel intoxicated without having even drunk anything. Your friend smiles, but is too shy to join in. The song ends and the lights dim. You turn around and you're facing a stage, now set with instruments and six familiar and very sexy guys.

The lights adjust, one shines directly on the bassist, Jooyeon, and he's sporting a new look. Crazy black hair and dramatic eyeliner. His torn black and white sweater over his black pants and chunky black boots. All of it is tied together with his chunky silver accessories and black lipstick. You were intrigued by his new darker than usual look. You adored it. He was still getting ready when he glanced over, accidentally locking eyes with you. His eyes traveled slowly down your body. He took every part of you into his eyes. You glared back at him. You looked aggressive, and he was into that.

Another member of the band, Gaon, hit him on the shoulder, bringing him back from his trance. He made some joke that you couldn't hear, but Jooyeon laughed so it must've been funny. If he says something is, that's how it'll be. He at least had that effect on you. The sound of the boys’ amps turning on directs all of the attention to them. They look confident and excited to play. Those of us in the crowd who are fans cheer. Gunil counts off their first song and they start playing.

Jooyeon can't help but steal a glance at you every now and then. He plays effortlessly though he's only half-minded right now. All of his thoughts are on you, putting his hands on autopilot to play. He doesn't even realize he's been straight up staring at you until the song ends, ringing him conscious again.

They play for another hour and Jooyeon simply observes you while he plays. He watches as you dance, you look so loose and comfortable, like you're genuinely enjoying yourself. He smiles. Just then you turn around to look at him. Your eyes lock and Jooyeon feels his heart skip a beat. He looks down, pretending to focus on his guitar. When the last song ends, he puts his bass back on the stand, his face is glistening with sweat and his furrowed brows add a tinge of spice to his look.

The band disperses into the crowd, enjoying themselves now that the regular music has begun playing again. When you feel a gap on your shoulder, you least expect it to be Jooyeon, eyeing you down with a smirk.

“Mind if I buy you a drink, beautiful?” He places his hand on your shoulder, trying not to infringe on your personal space too much. You blush at his boldness. Was he really asking you of all the people here for a drink?

“Sure,” you try to keep your cool, replying as nonchalantly as you can. He strikes up conversation as you make your way over to the bar.

“I’m Jooyeon,” he says, introducing himself with a sheepish smile.

“I know,” “You reply confidently. Jooyeon blushes. His heart swells with excitement at being recognized.

“You know me? You know the band?” He looks to you with shimmering eyes that contrast to his dark look.

“Yeah, I love your music,”

“Well, enough about me then, what’s your name?” He puts his best attempt forward to look and act cool. Meeting a fan wasn’t something he’d planned on.

“I’m y/n.” You answer. He nods, liking the sound of your name. You take a seat on the barstool and Jooyeon finds himself in the one beside you. You boh sit facing each other, intrigued in conversation. A couple drinks in and you don’t hear a thing coming from his mouth. He just keeps yapping nonsense, but you look at him intently, though your mind is distant.

You're in a haze of thoughts and scenarios. You can’t seem to scratch the thought of kissing him. His black lipstick stood out in contrast to his pearly white teeth when he smiled. He stopped talking for a moment, realizing you were only half-present. He smirks and brushes your hair out of your face, bringing you back to reality.

“What's on your mind?” He asks. You blush, realizing he probably picked up on your thoughts. He had caught you staring at his lips.

“Oh uh, nothing” your lies become poor as the alcohol sets in. Not even the drunkest guy in here would buy it.

“Oh come on, I saw you looking,” Jooyeon teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well it's your own fault. Who said you could come out here looking so hot?” Your filters wither away, allowing you to spew out your thoughts without hesitation. He finds it more than amusing. It's equally arousing.

The things between then and now are blank in your mind, and it's probably for the better. You have Jooyeon pinned to the wall on the narrow hallway that leads to bathrooms and employee entrances. His lips are parted, gasping for air while you aren't kissing him like some rabid animal. Lipstick is smeared all over his face and his eyes are glossy with desire. You can almost hear his heart thumping in his chest, threatening to burst from the adrenaline that courses through his veins. He's dizzy from all the blood in his system flooding his cock that begs to be released from his tight leather pants. He moans into your kiss, taking everything you offer him with pleasure, but he needs more.

“Can we… go to your place?” His words barely cohesive under his breathy panting.

“Yeah, come on” you grab his wrist and drag him to your car. He gets in the passenger seat obligingly. You can see in tense demeanor that he’s really needy. A tent has long since formed in his pants. You reach over, placing your hand on his thigh, pulling his legs open and caressing his inner thigh with some force. You give it a squeeze and his legs threaten to close. He’s facing the ground. His face is deep red. He’s shy and can’t bring himself to look at you. Your hands move with confidence, slowly dragging up his thigh and grazing over his crotch. He gulps, a slight whimper escaping his throat at the contact.

You pull into your driveway, glad your friend had decided on going home tonight. Jooyeon follows you inside and you don't make it past the couch.His whines are even more beautiful than his singing voice.

"Please..." He sounds on the verge of tears. His eyes are sewn shut.

"It hurts" he says. His cock must be aching to get out. You help him stand up and unzip his pants agonizingly slow. His chest rises and falls quickly, his breath becoming increasingly restrained as you undress him. Jooyeon's had several one night stands before, but he's never been the sub. He appears to have unlocked a new part of him.

Your eyes are intense and your gaze is merciless as you take in the look of his exposed lanky frame. His cock stands straight up, pressed flush against his stomach. Precum smears his stomach and his tip is deep red from being so hard.

"You're so sensitive," you say in awe, his body reacts to everything, even the change in the air as you move.

"Been horny all day, can't take it anymore" he's whiny. Really, really whiny. He'll do anything if you just say the word.

You wrap your hand around his length and his legs threaten to give out. He's already on the verge of cumming and you've barely touched him. He was needy, whiny, and pathetic for you. He's never been dominated before but it was the switch up he didn't know he needed.

You help him sit down on the couch again and situate yourself beside him. You bring your hand back to his cock, stroking it excruciatingly slow. You take your sweet time with the poor boy. Tears well up in his eyes and you scoff at him, making him jump slightly.

"You're so pathetic Jooyeon" you laugh. It makes his cock throb in your hand. A gutteral moan escaping his throat. Your hand speeds up and his body shakes underneath you. You can feel him getting close, and just before he can cum, you pull away, leaving him disappointed.

"The fuck was that for?" He scolds. His eyes are still glossy, but he furrows his brows, trying to appear angry.

"I'm not letting you cum so fast now baby, gotta be patient" you remark, he sulks down, submitting to you.Your hand finds it's place stroking him again. He writes under your touch, urgent to cum. Before he reaches his climax again though, you're pulling away. He cries out in desperation.

"I'll let you cum if you get on your knees and beg for it" his eyes snap to look at you, caught completely off guard.

"Me? Beg? Not happening" Jooyeon scoffed. He wasn't about to get down and beg! That would be so humiliating. Though as the seconds ticked by and his cock throbbed, begging for attention, the idea started to intrigue him.

"Ok, you won't be cumming, but I still need to." You start peeling your clothes off of your body, revealing what's underneath. Jooyeon's face heats up in response. He's aching for attention.

"Fine," he sighs. You smirk, trying to hide your excitement.

"Fine what Joo?" Your voice is coated in a false sense of sweetness. He tries to avoid your gaze by looking down at your feet.

He picks himself up and lowers himself onto the floor. His cock is pressed against his stomach from the painful erection. He looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Please y/n" he sobs. Tears streaming down his face.

"Please- I can't take this anymore. Need you so bad" You smirk, pleased with his begging, and squat down to look him in the eye. His face is in the grip of your hand. Your fingers squish his cheeks, causing his lips to pout as he looks at you with fear and excitement.

"What was that pup?"

"Please! I need you!" He chokes on his tears and coughs out his pleads. His legs shake underneath him.

You push him back, causing him to fall. He leans back on his arms, peering up at you. He's enjoying the bullying. You straddle his lap, sticking his tip between your folds and running it back and forth.

Your arousal soaks his erection, you're riding him now, soaking his entire length without even putting it in. he's pushing his orgasm again, hoping you don't rip it away from him. Lewd sounds of your fluids and the smacking of your skin gets you both so turned on. His tip hits your clit with every move of your hips.

"'m so close" be sobs, whispering just loud enough to hear over his breathy pants. He fails to grab a fistful of the carpet beneath him leaving his fist clenched and empty. His knuckles are white from the tension. One more thrust from your hips and he's whining as cum spurts up his torso. The throbbing of his cock makes you see stars. You're on the verge of cumming as well, but you aren't done with him.

As you pull away, arousal mixed with precum and a bit of cum string between you two. You can feel it leak down the sides of your legs from the sheer amount. Jooyeon's torso is painted white and his face is beet red and tear stained. He shivers from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He didn't think he would enjoy being humiliated so much.

"I hope you aren't done yet, I haven't came" you say, sounding a little strict. Jooyeon looks at you, struck with fear and anticipation.

You grab his cock, positioning him to your entrance. It had ready begun to soften, but the moment his tip is between your warm, soaked walls, he's hard again. You lower down on him, giving yourself time to adjust to his size. Whimpers escape from his throat though he tries to choke them back. His tip kisses your cervix just as he bottoms out. He fits perfectly inside of you.

With one movement, you pick up and push him back in, starting to set a pace for your thrusts. This time, you properly ride him. The overstimulation has him writhing underneath you, begging for you to stop, but at the same time, he yearns for more.

You approach your orgasm again and you can feel he's close as well. You pull off of him, depriving him of his second orgasm, and take his hand, pressing it on your clit. He smiles and gladly starts rubbing circles on the nerve, causing you to jump. He takes his other hand, his pointer and middle finger, and press them inside of you. He almost cums from feeling you so wet around his fingers alone. His hips seek friction, jerking against his will. The sound of your wetness smacking from his fingers turns him on, he's as hard as when you began.

He curls his fingers inside you, your body reacts without permission. Your using his shoulders as support as he fingers you. Your hips roll into his skillful hands, making you appear desperate. You lock eyes intimately, and the magnetism between you two pulls you together. His kiss triggers your orgasm, your legs tense and your walls clench around him. You're breathing deep, sharp breaths into his mouth.

After you ride out your high, Jooyeon retreats his fingers that are now soaked in your essence. He runs his hand between your folds, collecting as much if your arousal as he can. His hand is soaked when he pulls away. You get off of his lap and see what he was doing.

He takes his cock in his hand. The same hand that cleaned you up in one swipe. He used your wetness to lubricate his hand and now he's getting off with it. He strokes vigorously, looking at your bare body.

When he reaches his second orgasm, coating himself in another load, he looks at you. He's completely spent. He reaches his arms out, expectant that you'll spoil him. You help help clean up and lead him to your bed, covering him up and laying beside him. You wrap your arms around him and he snuggles into you sweetly.

Normally, Jooyeon wouldve been gone by now, already back at the dorms. He's had plenty of hookups, but you were special. When you wake up, he's still between your arms. He smiles as he looks up to you, glad you're awake.

"Can I have your number?"

[ashecampos]

ANYONE BUT HER

Reader x Janis Imi-ike

Warnings - smoking, alcohol, drugs, swearing, cheating, mentions of anxiety.

there will be more parts to this, make sure to reblog and comment and I will get the next few parts up as soon as I can, happy reading lovelies 🫶🏼

“DAMIEN WE HAVE TO HAUL ASS IF WE WANT TO MAKE IT TO THIS GIG” Janis shouts at her best friend as she grabs his car keys and runs to the door leaving her jacket on the stairs. Not a moment goes until her best friend is also running out of the door behind her, shutting it and jumping in his car.

—

“For the love of Bowie please tell me one of you guys have a spare pick” I say running onto the stage where my band are setting up for the gig. My brother Aaron looks at me, points at my necklace. A guitar pick hanging from a chain. I dramatically place my hand over the pick and point at him “nuh uh this” I point at the pick “this was dads”. He rolls his eyes and throws me a pick.

I look over at my girlfriend who is talking to our bassist over at the bar, rolling my eyes I place my guitar down and go out back for a quick breather.

—

“So Cady what do you know about music?” Damien questions his new neighbour/ future classmate who had only came to the US a month ago. “nothing..but oh I know this really cool African band from my hometown you mig-“ Cady starts talking about Africa as Janis eagerly slaps Damien’s arm, cutting the poor girl off. “Dude look” Janis signals over to y/n after grabbing her two friends’ attention. “who is that?” Cady asks not missing the fact that her new friend is openly eye fucking this random girl whose face is hidden by the cloud of smoke coming from her cigarette. “Oh baby, that right there is the definition of ‘rockstar girlfriend’ also but not limited to hot guitar hero” Damien flails his hands toward the girl in question as Janis just stares. “Oh here we go, doors are open, I repeat lady’s doors are open” he squeals like a little girl going to see a boyband.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke I fiddle with my lighter in my hands, trying to calm my pre show jitters. My mind is somewhere else, as usual. Looking around at the que of people waiting to see us only made my anxiety worse. A warm hand grabs my arm and pulls me back into the venue “dude what the fu-“ shit “cmon we have to be on in five, if your going to be sick do it now and quick” my ever so loving girlfriend states as she drags me to the curtain backstage where the rest of the band is waiting.

One by one we walk out onto the stage.

Aaron goes on first, he’s our drummer and my twin brother. He’s wearing his usual get up of dark blue jeans, a hoodie and a flannel with some airforces.

Then goes Jason, our bassist. Or should I say our token fuck boy. He is wearing black jeans with a white long sleeved polo shirt.

Next is me, the guitar. I’m sporting my favourite black Levi’s, a dark red corset top I was forced against my will to wear by my girlfriend and a leather jacket, my guitar slung around my body so it’s resting on my back. My curly black hair bounces as I walk to my spot of the stage and plugging my guitar into the amp as I sling it around to the front of my body.

Lastly Bea. My girlfriend, our singer saunters out onto stage. She is wearing a black mini dress and heels. She looks plastic. Like a Barbie. She wasn’t like this a few weeks ago. She was just her usual perfect self. But she’s changed.

The crowd goes wild and the lights shine brighter onto us as Bea introduces the band.

The show goes great. Perfect even. We finish our set and the crowd stays, some drifting to the bar a few leaving to catch the late bus home. But a lot stayed to meet the band.

I place my guitar on the stand and straighten Jason’s bass while the rest of the band walk toward the bar, I take a B line towards the exit door, only to be pulled away by my arm. Now I walk to the bar with the rest of them. “What can I getcha baby?” The bartender asks, leaning over the bar a little with a smirk. “Double tequila straight, hold off the rocks and a sex on the beach for the lady please” I say with a smile. “Stop flirting with the sleaze bag of a server” Bea nudges me. “I wasn’t even…never mind” I sigh out, handing Bea her drink and downing my double shot.

We all separate and mingle with the fans. I end up standing in the corner of the room talking to some guys who want tips on how to hold a pick, you know the usual stuff. That’s when I see my girlfriend making out with Jason. I excuse myself and run out of the venue, my breath choppy and my vision blurry. I end up leaning against the stone wall of the bar, tears unknowingly flowing down my face, ruining my makeup.

—

“See I told you these guys were good” Janis shouts over the crowd to state the obvious as the show ends and people start to part ways.

..

The band comes out to cool off with the audience who is left, Janis, Damien and Cady being a group of them. “Holy shit” Janis says under her breath as she watches the singer and the bassist start making out. “Ohh fuck” Damien finishes Janis’ sentiment of shock as they witness the guitar player stumble out of the bar. “should we go see is they are okay?” Cady asks, Janis and Damien put their drinks down as if the question had restarted their brains and placed them back into reality. The group then follow the girl outside where they find her sat in the floor against the brick wall, her knees up to her chest, hands covering her face.

“Cady go find Aaron, drummer boy and let him know his sister is a mess but to not to worry, Damien go make sure singer or bassist does not come out here” Janis quickly springs into action.

—

She cheated, she fucking cheated with our bassist. Does she even know that I saw? Would she even care? I can’t believe that she che- “hey, is it okay if I touch you?” I girls voice breaks me out of my thoughts suddenly. I slowly take my hands away from my face and nod, observing the girl. She’s from my school, I’ve seen her before.

She slowly sits down next to me and takes a hold of my hand. That’s when it hits me. It’s my brother’s girlfriend’s ex. What was her name? Janine? No Janis? Yes Janis. Why was she at our gig? “Your girlfriends a douchebag” she says with a sad smile “you mean my ex girlfriend” i say barley above a whisper, my voice threatening to crack. “hey why don’t you come with me and my friends, we are going back to Damien’s to binge watch crappy VHS films and drink shitty beer. You down pretty girl?” She says reeking of confidence and hope that she can lift my spirits. Shrugging I agree before I am swept off of my feet and into a car with two new people and Janis.

—

Y/N SAMUELS is sat next to me right now. Definitely not something I expected to be saying. She’s like a goddess. She’s worse than plastic, she’s like stained glass. Fragile as fuck but so breathtakingly beautiful. I don’t know much about her but I know I need to have her.

—

I’m sleepy upset and now in a car with two randoms and Janis Imi’ike, not that I’m complaining. She’s really pretty the more I look at her. She rocks a cropped mötley crüe T-shirt with some black baggy jeans and docs. Her style has got to be one of the best I’ve seen even at school she somehow manages to catch my eye in the hallways or in classes. The car comes to a halt and I look at her again, now she is looking back at me with a grin, her hand held out ready for me to take it.

Damien’s basement is really nice, it’s been converted into a makeshift cinema room with two sofas, one of which being a two seater the other being a one seater. “Nice place” I say nodding my head at Damien “why thankyou my new pocket sized lesbian friend” he quips back. “Rude, for your information you’re just freakishly tall” we all laugh a little, his and Cady sit on the two seater while Janis who is still holding my hand guides us to the one seater. Putting a blanket over us to keep us warm she then places her hand on my waist while Damien starts playing a movie. I instantly recognise it as the conjuring 2013. Smiling I look up at Janis and say “it’s like he knew I would end up here tonight” she chuckles and shakes her head.

Never in my life did I think Y/N would be here hanging out with the three of us in Damien’s basement, a week before junior year, watching the conjuring. We are about half way through the movie when she moves so she is laid on top of me straddling my waist and cuddling me, her face nuzzled into my neck. I can smell the alcohol and weed on her but I’m not one to complain. She’s had a really rough night on top of the douchebag cheating on her. The movie eventually ends not that I was taking notice of it as all I could think about was her, I didn’t take my eyes off of her the whole time. Damien stands up from the other couch and I give him a death glare warning him not to wake her up. He smiles and comes over, gently tapping her shoulder, waking her up. “Hey fun sized, wanna play a game with us” he says smirking, I look over at Cady, she too has a shit eating grin on her face. What were they scheming this time? She rubs her eyes and nods a little. “Mh. What game?” She asks a valid question “dare or drink” he goes back to behind the couch and pulls out a cooler full of ice cold drinks. Like a switch has flipped she removes herself from my body. And sits on the floor next to the small coffee table. We all do the same, grabbing drinks and opening bottles. “Cady I dare you to make an Instagram account under the name ‘Caddy Heroin’ and follow the first five people who pop up” I start off strong, to this Cady puts the drink to her mouth and takes a big gulp. Earning a boo from the latter. A few turns go by and Damien turns to me and y/n pointing at us. “You two seven minutes in heaven right now or drink the rest of your bottles” he says with a smirk. Laughing y/n gets up with a stumble and holds her hand out for me. Her bracelets glistening under the dark light, I take her hand and pull her with me to another room in the basement. As soon as the door shuts I place my hands on her waist and push her body trapping her between me and the door.

Maybe I was drunk or maybe it was just the fact that Bea cheated on me but I decided to be reckless. When Damien proposed seven minutes in heaven I decided to take the offer up, Janis pulled me into the next room, pinning me against the door and attacking my lips, then that turned to my neck and I think you know what happened after that, we had Damien knocking on the door declaring we haul our asses out of the supply closet before he comes in and drags us out. Once out of the closet ;) we played a few more rounds before I ended up asleep on Janis again. By 2am we were all asleep.

7am the next day

I wake up to the sound of someone snoring, looking around the room I see Damien and the new girl on the other couch sprawled out, an ungodly sound coming from the boys mouth. Looking up I see Janis Imi-ike my longtime crush and Regina George’s ex girlfriend with her arms wrapped around my waist. I use the fact that everyone is asleep to make my escape. Before leaving I write my number down on a piece of paper and place one of my bracelets on Janis’ wrists.

part 2

[cyberwhumper]

He could hear them even before they unlocked the heavy chains that protected the gates to the abandoned warehouse. Loud music playing from car speakers, raucous partygoers, and copious amounts of drugs and booze for everyone to enjoy to their heart's content. He listens to them pouring into the building and the noise grows exponentially louder, bouncing off the empty walls and throwing off his ability to perceive sound direction entirely.

As the hours pass and the party shows no sign of dying down, Whiskey almost feels a sense of relief that they would be way too busy with it to harass him instead. He allows himself to relax a little, tries to make his body as comfortable as possible so he can finally get some rest. Before he is even able to close his eyes, the door to his makeshift cell opens and a dozen curious eyes land squarely on him.

Fuck. I'm gonna be the entertainment, aren't I?

Before he could finish that thought or protest, pain overwhelms his senses as Baxter yanks his chain so harshly his ankle starts to bleed again. Everything feels distant and quickly fading away from his vision until he's brought back by a couple of rough slaps across the face.

"You better cut this shit out and stand up, fucker. My guests want to take a look at you!"

"Go.. fu..ck.. yours…–"

His captor kicks him unceremoniously on the bleeding ankle, quickly curbing his typical defiant act. A wave of nausea hits him, and he dry heaves and gags and struggles to not appear like he's completely defeated. Two of Baxter's gang members pull him up by his armpits and drag him out of the cell and across the rugged floors, parading him around like some sort of circus animal. His good foot is scraped and bruised as he desperately tries to push back against them and free himself, but the more he struggles the more exhausted he gets.

"Hey people, gather round!" Baxter pipes up, waving his hands in the air to beckon them closer. "We gonna play a little game!"

He winds up in a dramatic gesture to amp up the crowd and punches Whiskey straight on his broken ribs. He screams in agony, body contorting in involuntary spasms as if trying to protect his wounds was at all possible with his hands tied up above him. Baxter smiles at the excited partygoers.

"First one to make this prick piss himself in pain gets drinks on me for a week. Good luck ladies and gentlemen!"

When morning finally breaks, he's long since stopped screaming.

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage //

If you’re interested in being added to the tag list, please let me know!

[unclewaynemunson]

Tadaaaa here is the sequel to this post, which came from an ask that got me in a chokehold for days now so kudos to the lovely anon who sent that prompt to me! You can also read the whole thing on ao3 :)

As soon as Eddie got into the passenger seat of his Wayne's truck, he saw the whole world go blurry. He tried to blink away his tears, but it was no use – nothing ever escaped his uncle's notice anyway.

'Wanna tell me what's wrong, boy?' he asked while he started the car.

Eddie grimaced. 'You know how they say you should never meet your heroes?'

'Hm?'

'Well, I met mine. On the fucking train. Just yet.'

Wayne shot him an incredulous glance.

'What was the Black Sabbath guy doin' on a train?'

'What? No, it wasn't... No.'

'The Hobbits guy?'

'Jesus Christ, Wayne, Tolkien died like fifteen years ago, keep up.'

'You want me to keep guessin' or you gonna tell me?'

Eddie rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, no, you wouldn't guess it right anyway. It's this poet.'

'Don't think I ever heard you talk 'bout poetry before,' Wayne remarked.

And that was exactly the thing. Ronan Right had been something... private. Something between Eddie and the faceless blob in his mind that embodied Right – and maybe Jeff. Okay, and Jeff's mom. But it wasn't someone he'd talk people's ears off about on any occasion he got, like he did with plenty of other musicians or writers that he'd get all obsessive about.

Until Steve, that was. Steve, who had been casually listening to his music. Steve, who had recognized the book in his hands and effortlessly opened the floodgates of his obsession. Steve, who had said the most beautiful things about Corroded Coffin without even knowing who Eddie was. Steve, who had talked with him about their shared passions for hours. Steve, who he now somehow had to merge with Right in his mind.

Steve, who seemed so perfect that it made all of Eddie's alarm bells go off at the loudest possible volume. Because this couldn't be real. This was something straight from a disgustingly sweet romcom scenario, and if there was anything Eddie could be certain about, it was that his life was no romcom.

So during the short walk from the station to Wayne's car, Eddie's head had already come up with a dozen scenarios that were completely spiraling out of control – even though they'd all make for great songs, no doubt about that. Steve would die some kind of tragic death on his way to their first date. Steve was secretly addicted to crack. Steve was a stalkerish fan who had lied to him about being Ronan Right to get close to him. Steve would cheat on him on their wedding day.

The list of possibilities was endless and terrifying – while the list of possibilities for this having a happy ending, on the other hand, was exceptionally short.

'Was it that bad?' asked Wayne while they headed out of the city.

Usually, Eddie enjoyed amping up his dramatics to a maximum around Wayne, providing the much-needed balance to his uncle's calm and steady demeanor. But right now, Eddie felt himself deflate in his seat. He couldn't bring himself to make a show out of it.

'No,' he said, quietly. 'He was perfect.'

And Wayne must've heard it in his voice, must've picked up right away that this wasn't Eddie being dramatic, that something serious was going on here, because he gave him this look that was cutting way too deep into his heart.

'Nobody can be that perfect, you know,' Eddie continued. 'It's impossible. And he – he gave me his number. And I just know that if I call it, and we get to know each other better, I'll get crushingly disappointed sooner rather than later. Because something has to be, like, disturbingly wrong with this guy.'

Anyone else than Wayne would probably tell Eddie that he was being ridiculous, that he should get over himself and call Steve; that he should allow himself to let good things happen to him or some shit. But Wayne wasn't just anyone. Wayne was the one person who knew exactly what Eddie meant. The one person who had seen from up-close the shitshow that Eddie's life had been, who had retained a front row seat through all of it. And he had had his own fair share of misery himself, Eddie knew that much. He was too old and had gotten punched down too many times to still hold naive illusions of the possibility of good things.

So he didn't give him some bullshit advice. He merely patted Eddie's knee and turned up the radio.

---

Ever since Eddie had left Hawkins, it had become a habit of him to stay with Wayne for a couple of weeks every now and then. For all his desires to get the hell out of that town when he was younger, he still spent way too much time at his uncle's trailer. But it wasn't Hawkins that he came back for, it was uncle Wayne.

It was home. And it helped him breathe whenever the city got too intense. Helped him get detached from everything that distracted him from the shit that actually mattered. Helped him get his head right when Chicago was threatening to make him lose it.

Time seemed to move differently in Hawkins than in the city. Slower. More naturally, too, somehow. Maybe it was because of the lack of nightlife and flashing neon signs when the world was supposed to be wrapped in darkness. The fact that he could still see the stars when he stepped out of the trailer at nighttime. Maybe it was the quiet, which allowed him to actually hear himself think. Or maybe it was the predictability of it all: Wayne waking him up with a cup of coffee in the morning, the two of them sharing cigarettes on the porch, Eddie helping Wayne with some chores and then trying to write new songs until well into the night, when the world was his and his alone.

He kept reading Right almost religiously, but it was different, now. Now that he could hear Steve's voice say those words, now that he could envision the way in which the sun shone on his hair through the dirty train window and the shape of his hands clutching a walkman that had Eddie's music in it. It was all different.

After a week, Eddie had a whole album worth of songs about the deception of things that seemed perfect. He hadn't been able to write even one song about things ending well, about things working out. That wasn't his life. Things never worked out. Why would they, for a boy born in a household where the trifecta of poverty, addiction and violence was all he had ever known? In the five albums he had produced so far, he'd never experienced a lack of demons to write about.

So no, he wouldn't be calling Steve, even though he had read the number that was written down on the sleeve of his own album so often that it'd probably be impossible to ever erase it from his mind again. He'd protect himself, this time. He'd cherish the hours he got to spend with Ronan Right, the memories that were already starting to feel like a fever dream, and not let his heart break any further. Not this time. Not again.

---

'Got mail for ya.'

An envelope landed in Eddie's lap.

'What's this?'

'I dunno, 's your mail,' Wayne answered.

Eddie didn't recognize the handwriting and the Indianapolis post stamp didn't give him much of a clue either. It didn't make sense that someone would send him a letter at his uncle's place.

He frowned, roughly tore open the envelope and pulled a single sheet of paper out of it. It was neither directed at nor signed by anyone, but that wasn't necessary for Eddie to know who sent it.

'What is it, boy?' Wayne asked, a worried edge to his voice upon hearing the choked sob that freed itself from Eddie's throat.

Eddie knew that the words were only meant for him. But he and Wayne were a unit, always had been, ever since Eddie moved into Forest Hills. So he wordlessly handed the paper to his uncle, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wayne assessed the text with a wrinkled forehead, holding the paper at an arm's-length in order to read it.

'That from the boy you met on the train?'

Eddie nodded.

When his uncle looked up from the letter, Eddie caught an almost unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was soft, hopeful. Optimistic.

'You know I ain't any good with words, like you, or this – this poet,' Wayne said. 'But this...' He pressed the letter back into Eddie's hand. 'This looks like he knows you, Ed. Like he sees you. For all that you are.'

He didn't tell Eddie what to do; that wasn't his style, never had been. But what he did say kept bouncing through Eddie's head unceasingly, making him unable to sleep, unable to write, unable to think about anything else.

---

Eddie desperately wanted to say something meaningful when Steve picked up the phone. He wanted to thank him for reaching out, to apologize for being too much of a coward to call earlier – but what came out of his mouth instead was, 'How did you know where to find me?'

'Eddie, is that you?' It sounded like Steve didn't quite believe it.

'Yeah – yeah, it's me,' was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth.

'Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped,' Steve told him. 'I just – I couldn't get you out of my head and it all felt so right, you know, like fate or some shit, so I just had to... I needed to try. And I knew your name, and that you were staying with your uncle, so I got help from some friends and they managed to find your uncle's address.'

And as if Eddie hadn't been enough of an emotional wreck over the past week, his vision got blurry with tears yet again.

'Sorry, was it – did I go too far?' Steve sounded nervous.

Eddie could perfectly envision the way he would be frowning and anxiously running a hand through his hair; as if they had already shared a whole lifetime of getting to know all about each other's mannerisms instead of a few stolen hours on a train.

He hated the idea of Steve thinking he had done something wrong when all he ever did was so fucking right, so he determinedly shook his head, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see that, and started scraping for words.

'No, Steve, you... You're perfect. And that scared the shit out of me, because so far, my life hasn't really done perfect. Most of our songs, they're – well – creative retellings of my own shit.' Now that he started talking, the words actually came a lot easier. 'They're all real, at the core, when you peel away the layers of, like, monster slaying and fantasy imagery. Like, everything underneath all that, it's all... me. Damage, betrayal, fear, violence – all that shit is true. Life hasn't been kind to me, Steve. And I was convinced that you'd only become an addition to that long list of crap, because you seemed way too perfect. I never thought I could have something good. And you're good, Steve, you're so fucking good. So I couldn't believe it.'

A long silence ensued at the other side of the line. Then, a sigh.

Then, 'Eddie,' in the softest voice possible, like his name was something breakable. Eddie didn't remember ever having heard his name said like that.

'I think that was exactly what I heard in your songs. Why I kept listening to them. Why they inspired me so much.'

Eddie tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, suffocated by the emotions bubbling up inside of him.

'I wish I could hold you, right now.'

Eddie's breath caught. He knew exactly what he needed to do: he needed to stop running. He needed to trust that Steve could be right, for him. That Steve could be something good.

'I mean, you could come over to Hawkins and do just that, you know,' he suggested.

'D'you want me to?'

He nodded, again forgetting that Steve couldn't see him.

'Yeah, I'd like that. Probably still got half that cookie somewhere in my pocket, y'know. Maybe we could share it.'

Credit where credit is due: the line “He sees you, for all that you are” isn't mine, it's one of my favorite quotes from Schitt's Creek and I really wanted Wayne to say that to Eddie about Steve, so here we have it <3

@ My beloved 🥐 anon: I hope you like this ending, and that I came close enough to your suggestion to have Steve make Eddie a character in his next poem <3

Taglist: @kathorakiryu @goodolefashionedloverboi @undreaming-rambles @fangirlycupcake @ghouligans-central @henderdads @dolphincliffs @anglhrts @ajamlessbaby @yearningagain @vampireinthesun @xxbottlecapx @kissaphobic-kas @mad-h-w @booksandsience @obsessivlyme @ppunkpuppyy @barnes-bestgirl @capital-p-platonic​ @eddiemunsonmeltdowns @callme-keys​​

[abominable-space-they]

Another Au centered around music & punk Steve(sorta) bc of Steddie twt talking abt switching it up to celebrity Steve & just some guy Eddie.

I do love a good trope reversal

Underground Metal Eddie x (pop)punk Steve

Eddie working at a guitar shop that mostly catered to metal & hard rock musicians with a preference for a certain crunchy sound.

Since he was into a very specific niche of gay power & thrash metal, Eddie didn't know Steve was a pop punk star when they meet

He knew who Stevie Dynamite was, of course he did, everyone did. He knew that the guy debuted at 15, was supposed to be some musical genius who could play any instrument.

Eddie remembered the early songs because they were so personal, haunting little folk proto punk songs w/ a glam pop edge about identity, isolation, & loneliness. They weren't his thing but they were better then the usual radio fare.

Three years later after a series of salacious magazine spreads, notoriously explosive deals with several different make-up and high end hair care lines, more scandals then you could count, public partying, public meltdowns, cancelled shows, article after article abt the King of Pop Rock losing his touch, a mediocre album full of bubble gum party till you drop songs, and open speculation abt the nature of his relationship with indie pop darling Birdie (but Eddie knows that's not what ppl think it is. Her music is wall to wall barely subtle sapphic yearning, if there's one thing he knows it's gay subtext)

The rumors got louder & more dramatic until, five years after he rocketed to superstardom Stevie Dynamite publicly sued his label & parents for control of his image & brand.

He won

Then he quietly disappeared.

Thus was the end of the bigger then life legend of Stevie Dynamite

So when Steve Harrington walked into the guitar store on some lazy Monday afternoon while Eddie was sitting behind the counter working on a song in his downtime. He had no idea who Steve was.

When the unknown hot guy in a Violent Femmes hoodie & a plain black beanie struck up a conversation about Eddie's lyrics he thought Steve was just another life long grind musician wanting to talk shop

When the guy introduced himself as Steve, Eddie didn't think anything in particular about it

When Steve seemed to be flirting a little Eddie chalked it up to the guy wanting a discount on whatever he was in to buy.

When he dragged Stevie Dynamite viscously for being an absolute fake from top to bottom, when one of his newer songs came on the shop radio, Eddie laughed and agreed.

When Steve asked Eddie for help choosing a guitar with a very particular pensive but angry victorious sound he was happy to help (Steve paid full price & if he was annoyed he didn't show it)

When the guy came in again next monday for a new amp, and the Monday after that for new strings Eddie was confused but happy to see him

When Steve came in the Monday after that asking for help with the writing of a song, a service he would be happy to pay for, Eddie said yes against his better judgement. He knew he was well and truly fucked by the happy burbling in his stomach at the thought of creating music with this incredibly hot man.

When they spent six months of Mondays holed up in the break room working on lyrics, Eddie tried not to examine what it meant.

And when Steve abruptly didn't come by one Monday, Eddie had no idea what the hell happened but he was disappointed.

When one Monday no show, became two, then three, Eddie decided he must've been ghosted, he picked his embarrassingly broken heart up off the floor and kept going, resigned to never knowing what happened with Steve.

In fact Eddie had no idea that Steve Harrington was Stevie Dynamite until the first royalty check came in with a $ number so high, Eddie thought he probably died without realizing it. He'd never even dreamed of holding that much money in his hand at one time.

The check was from Dynamite Records?!?!?! Stevie Dynamite's personal label?!?!

Through a haze Eddie remembered that a a few weeks ago Stevie Dynamite had released his first post corporate divorce album to a tidal wave of media fanfare and critical acclaim. Everyone who had an opinion about music swore the real Stevie Dynamite was back on top again. Eddie barely noticed it, he'd been to busy not caring that Steve ghosted him to pay attention to yet another meaningless corporate shill telling him to dance all night

He called the corporate number on the check

"Dynamite Records, Jonathan Byers speaking, how may I help you?"

"uhh yeah man, I think there's been some sort of mix up. I uhh-, Look my name is Eddie Munson & as much as I would love to keep this check. It couldn't possibly be for me and I really don't want to get sent to prison for check fraud so maybe someone should come and get it or something."

The man, on the either end of the line immediately relaxed into a more casual manner.

"Eddie hey man, I've heard so much about you. It's definitely not a mistake, he wanted you to have credit since you guys wrote the songs together."

"uhh not to seem totally clueless or whatever Mr Byers, but umm He who?"

"Jonathan is actually totally fine, we're all family here right? Stevie Dynamite of course"

"Ok, but how in the world does Stevie Dynamite know me & why would he want me to get writing royalties on his new songs?"

"... Fuck...He still hasn't told you has he?"

"told me what?"

Jonathan sighed a kindly exasperated sigh on the other end of the line.

"Eddie have you looked at the new Stevie Dynamite album?"

"No-, I uhh no offense or anything it's just glam rock pop punk isn't really my thing."

"it's fine, it's not mine either-, hmm well are you at work? No of course you are that's where we sent the check. He didn't know your home address. You know, I should've known he didn't tell you now that I think about it. Why don't you go take a peek, pay specifical attention to the dedication. I'll wait here."

Eddie heard some rustling as Jonathan leaned back, talking to someone else apparently.

"Argyle, babe, you wouldn't believe this. He still hasn't told Eddie."

Even further away he heard a good natured huff of laughter.

"Bro? No shit. Man... Babe, your ex is so beautifully weird. I wish I found out a pop star was in love with me w/ a fat check and an album full of love songs. Stevie boy has style at least... wanna hit this?"

What the hell was that all about? If they were getting high he might as well just go look at the album right? Right. No time like the present.

Eddie didn't know why he was so nervous

The album cover wasn't anything remarkable, tattoo flash art of a nail bat, a weird flower full of serrated teeth, and a guitar. It was called "Stevie Dynamite: Love, Death, and a Baseball Bat Named Baby"

Inside there was a lot of concept photography, Stevie Dynamite after a show, make-up smeared, staring into a mirror with empty eyes. Each page of lyrics had a new picture of Stevie with some of the glamorous accoutrements removed staring at himself in the mirror, first he took off his shiny rock and roll lace top, then he replaced his leather pants with sweats, the next he had on an old beat up violent femmes hoodie, lastly he took off all the flashy metallic glam rock make up.

The last picture was just Stevie Dynamite, No, Steve Harrington, his Steve Harrington fresh faced, staring into the camera with a note superimposed, written in loopy feminine handwriting, the dedication.

'To Eddie who's inspired me since the day I met him, who never gave a damn about Stevie Dynamite'a fame or reputation, who was kind to me because that's just who he is.

To Eddie who helped me find my love of music again, reminded me why I was here in the first place, and helped me write the most sincere and meaningful songs I ever have.

To the Eddie I was so afraid of losing to the gossip machine I couldn't quite tell the truth.

All those dumb love songs that you were always teasing me about writing were for you Eddie. No matter what, you deserve to know that. I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me.

I love you,

Stevie Dynamite

(but you can still call me Steve if you want to)'

Eddie felt faint again. He picked the phone back up

"What the fuck Jonathan?"

"Yeah, man what the fuck. But that's our boy Stevie, passionate, loyal to death and back, more than a little impulsive, and terrified of his feelings. Once he decides he loves you, he's impossible to shake. I'm so sorry he sprang this on you like this man, but Argyle's almost done getting him ready. I'll send him your way when we're done ok?"

Eddie wasn't sure what he was agreeing to but he still agreed.

20 minutes later a leather clad pop rock god, slouched in, looked around from behind his dark sunglasses with disinterested affected distance, pushed those sunglasses up onto his head and magically transmogrified into Steve Harrington, the guy he'd been pining over for a month. They both sat in silence, each afraid to go first. Finally Steve cleared his throat and broke the oppressive quiet

"I'm sorry I stopped coming by, I was so afraid that once you knew you'd only see Stevie, not me anymore. I couldn't bear losing another person I loved to him. God he sucks."

"But... you're Stevie Dynamite right? I haven't hallucinated all this, right?

"No no, you definitely didn't. I mean, yeah technically I'm him, but he's still the worst. I kinda hate him"

"uhhh...."

"I know it's weird"

"No I get it-, I think,-, trapped in reputations of our own making and all-, but uhhh... You love me?"

"Yeah Eddie of course! How could I do anything else but love you? Didn't you listen to the album?"

"uhh-, well-, No? Glam Rock Pop Punk just isn't my thing"

To Eddie's surprise, Steve broke out in a radiant smile.

"Of course you didn't, what was I thinking? All that worry for nothing. I'm so-... Hey I'm about to go play a private vip show to celebrate the album's success, you want to come? I promise I'll explain everything-, No pressure though!"

Eddie still wasn't sure exactly what he was agreeing to, but couldn't even feel to bad about it when Steve blushed, radiant, bigger then life, like a rock god, as he pulled Eddie out the door.

Right then and there Eddie made a pact with himself to keep saying yes to Steve as long as Steve bothered to ask. He was to precious not to.

[steventhusiast]

IM LATE BUT LIKE WHATEVER i just decided im gonna try and commit to @steddie-week so DAY 1: somebody to love by queen

--

when steve and eddie first tell the party about their relationship, a lot of them are a little confused. especially nancy. at first glance, the pair makes no sense at all.

steve is a soft soul that really enjoys basketball. he was a jock in high school, and doesn't really have any higher ambition in life than to make enough money to live and be with his loved ones. his favourite artists are the likes of tears for fears and abba. the hobbies he's most committed to are baking sweet treats and watching reality tv with claudia henderson.

and then there's eddie, who in a lot of ways is the antithesis to that.

he almost exclusively wears dark clothes that look three days away from falling apart, he despises sport. he was an outcast in high school, and even though he barely made it to graduation (a few years later than he should've) he is full to the brim of ideas and big ambitions. he's pretentious about music, hates pop and loves metal music. and he's a nerd.

they don't have much in common, so nancy's surprised they work as friends let alone as a couple. then again, she doesn't know eddie too well past what she's already said.

so her and a lot of the party don't really get it at first. until they're having a party over summer break, and everyone's out in the hopper-byers backyard watching hopper grill burgers for everyone and there's music playing through speakers somewhere.

the younger party members are all excitedly chatting amongst themselves, and the teens are sat leaning back on the grass. eddie and steve aren't cuddling for once, settling for linking pinkies as they lean back on their hands.

the song that was playing ends, and a new song starts. freddie mercury's voice starts singing, and nancy doesn't think she's ever seen steve move so fast in all her years of knowing him.

"can anybody find me somebody to love?"

freddie mercury is barely on the second word of that first line when steve and eddie's heads whip around to be facing each other. twin grins are on their faces, and they've jumped up together by the time the first line's over. steve seems to lose steam as he realises a lot of the party are now looking at them incredulously, and his cheeks suddenly have a red tint to them.

eddie immediately grabs steve's hands and starts dramatically serenading him. if nancy thought eddie was a little dramatic from overhearing mike retelling hellfire club anecdotes, she thinks he's extremely dramatic now she's seen his antics in the flesh.

he's gently swinging his and steve's hands as he encourages steve to dance with him. steve just smiles at his boyfriend, a little shy and a lot fond, but eddie's not put off in the slightest. he keeps gently pulling at steve's hands until steve gives in and starts moving to the music with him.

by the time the first verse is over, steve's almost as into it as eddie is, and nancy has never steve like this.

"i work hard, every day of my life." eddie sings along loudly, and steve sings the other part.

"he works hard." he sings softly with a smile.

his confidence amps up as the song goes on, and his dance moves get more and more ridiculous and less restrained as eddie encourages him and laughs with him as they sing. by the time it gets to the instrumental break, the entire party is watching them with smiles and singing along in some way.

the steve nancy dated would never be caught dead doing something like this, but here current steve is, back to back with eddie as they both dramatically play the air guitar. nancy looks toward robin to see if she's as shocked as she is at this display. but robin is just rolling her eyes, like she sees antics like this on the daily. she shakes her head at something dustin says to her, and then yells at the couple.

"i thought you promised to stop doing this every time this song came on?" she tries to look annoyed as she yells over the song, but fails massively.

steve stops his dramatics for a second, and points at her dramatically.

"you asking us to do that is exactly why i am doing this in front of everyone." he claims, and gets a (subtle, because everyone respects joyce) middle finger in return from robin.

"his pettiness knows no bounds, buckley, you should know this! you can only take so much of the mean girl out of the jock." eddie adds on, and that gets the pair another middle finger.

steve throws his head back as he laughs, and nancy smiles at him. he looks a lot happier than she's seen him in a long time. probably happier than she's ever seen him, actually.

"find me, find me, find me love."

as the last little bit of the song plays out, and steve and eddie dramatically fall on top of robin to dog pile her, nancy decides that maybe steve and eddie do make sense.

even in seemingly polar opposites, there is common ground.

--

-> day two

[qwertyprophecy]

Composing music for game design and narrative purposes in The Dark Queen of Mortholme

With my lamentably limited knowledge of music, composing the Mortholme OST took than the size of the game perhaps warranted. I'm happy though, since I managed to explore in the main narrative ideas I'd wanted and hopefully made the most of the format's weird limitations.

The gameplay of Mortholme is formed of you as the Queen repeatedly defeating the Hero, and them coming back to try and squeeze a few additional seconds out of every attempt. That means a few things for the main battle theme:

Interruptability required

In the early game, the music will likely only play for a couple seconds at a time. Initially I'd wanted a rather moody and atmospheric theme (y'know, back to the FromSoft roots), but quickly discovered that interrupting a slow paced track just made it sound confused. Interrupting something dramatic, on the other hand--especially a bombastic build-up--sounds funny, which is exactly what smacking some uppity heroic figure into their sudden death with a giant mace should be, for the first time.

2. Further into the track = further into the narrative

The cool thing about the format is that the better the Hero does at the fight, the longer the music has time to play. As the relationship between the Queen and the Hero develops through the deaths and the dialogue, the player will likely get to hear later parts of the song.

It's like a chance at adaptive music without having to learn how to do it! By assigning the characters their own instruments and leitmotifs, the track can develop from "the Queen's domination" to "the Hero persisting amidst it" and finally into "the Queen must acknowledge the Hero" as the Queen's brass section begins to respond to the Hero's leitmotif (while ending on a darker chord).

3. Short is sweet

With the start-and-stop, there really aren't that many seconds the full track can run. I'm not even sure if most player will realistically hear the third passage, if the game ends up being balanced to go faster. But that freed up all my leftover enthusiasm for composing to be used on variants beyond the battle theme.

There's the ominous slow variant for dialogue; a hollow, barely even melodic version for when the Hero is not in the room (the music follows the "player", after all, and a video game boss has no life beyond their visits); a Hero leitmotif heavy dialogue variant; and as the last one being currently finalised, a high tempo battle variant for phase two with synths and rock drums and basically anything I can throw in to make it sound so FINAL BOSS TIME!!! that it makes me laugh. I don't know anything about whatever this genre is either but that's fine, I put an amp on an organ and it sounds outrageous.

[slexenskee]

Running List of No Scrubs Albums

Because even I can't keep up with them anymore lol. I'll update it as I go. Also yes there are 6 official albums with 6 songs each... because Gojo is lame lol. And yes the acoustic albums are 5 songs... because he's extra lame

Spotify Playlist

update as of 09/18/23 bc I'm a f** scrub with commitment issues clearly

1. Thanks, I Hate it Here:

The 2nd album by release order, but first in chronological order of when they played them live. Yes, Gojo was feeling himself in his classic FOB phase real hard on this one lol. I find the evolution of FOB's discography IRL to be really fascinating, so I wanted to emulate it in the fic. This album is almost entirely FOB because Gojo realized flopping around bands and genres was difficult for the rest of his band, so he decided to first focus on one kind of ‘sound’ until they got used to playing together. 

Critics will later call it a bit unpolished and juvenile in comparison to the refined sound, themes, and quality production of later albums, with it's younger and simpler narratives. Thematically it tends to resonate more with a younger crowd, which people accredit to Ru-kun's assumed age of writing at the time (late teens). In other words, it becomes the quintessential 'middle school glory days' playlist for an entire generation of No Scrubs fans.

A Loaded God Complex - (Sugar We're Going Down) FOB

Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over - FOB

In Too Deep - Sum 41

Homesick at Space Camp - FOB

A Little Less Sixteen Candles - FOB

Dance, Dance - FOB

-

2. Good News For People Who Love Bad News

This was No Scrubs' first album ever released on a streaming platform, but it compromises songs more from their 2nd live setlist chronologically. A cult favorite amongst the fans, this album is fun and bratty with a combination of punchy pop punk lyrics, theatrical narratives, and catchy hooks that become unanimous with the band's dramatic flair. No Scrubs always had a rep as an underground alternative band with petty delinquent vibes, but this album definitely solidified them as the patron saint of all the edgy and misunderstood goth punks.

At this point the band had been together for a few years and Gojo definitely felt satisfied with the way the band was coming together and wanted to throw in some more famous mid 2000s pop punk bands into the mix.

Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner - FOB

I'm Not Okay (I promise) - MCR

In One Ear - Cage the Elephant

But It's Better if You Do - Panic!

I Write Sins not Tragedies - Panic!

Jesus of Suburbia - Green Day

-

3. Death Before Decaf

After playing up the 'pop' quite a bit in the last album, No Scrubs digs deep into some gritty grunge roots with their third album, full of noisy amped up rock anthems. Thematically it was considered their strongest album at the time of release, with intense vocals and lyrics covering dark and personal topics beneath the guise of their distinctive and iconic instrumental riffs. The juxtaposition between the catchy sing-along hooks and the depressing deeper meaning to the words made this album an instant classic. It remains a fan favorite of music critics for Ru-kun's scorchingly honest handling of raw and deeply personal themes like suicide, depression, and substance abuses. After the identities of the band members became public, it became a hotly debated album amongst No Scrubs fans, who consider it a cathartic outlet for a lot of the trauma that turned Ru-kun into a villain, but also a worrying one full of suicidal ideation, alcoholism, drugs, and child abuse.

On his part, Gojo was feeling nostalgic for his youth and felt it an affront that the likes of Nirvana and Weezer had never been experienced in the MHA universe. He gets asked about these songs a lot, specifically about Today, Semi-Charmed Life, and Say it Ain't So, which all seem to allude to a dark history. He often tells people Semi-Charmed Life is one of his favorite songs ever, which doesn't help matters, and also alarms several psychologists, who worry he's romanticizing what was clearly a very unhealthy time in his life.

My Own Worst Enemy - Lit

Today is the Greatest - (Today) Smashing Pumpkins

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

Come As You Are - Nirvana

Say It Ain't So - Weezer

Semi-Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind

-

4. Glass Onion Heart

Aka the "Baby boy who hurt you???" album inspiring sexuality crises across the world

Glass Onion Heart feels like a wild card of metamorphosis from No Scrubs' prior albums, with the addition of more electronic, pop, and synth instrumental mixing. Combined with the explosive and flashy tour that accompanied the album's release, it felt like a radical departure from the band's classic garage-band sound, into a more streamlined, pop format.

The album was met with divisiveness from fans, not helped by the news of the band's breakup following the album release and subsequent tour. While many adored the new direction, long-time fans mourned the loss of the quintessential indie and underground 'No Scrubs' aesthetic, especially when faced with the thought of their final album. Nonetheless, it was the band's most popular album at time of release by a wide margin. It certainly helped the album's popularity that Ru-kun did the entire tour in drag.

At this point fans the world over became intrigued by No Scrubs and their burgeoning fame, prompting Gojo to name the album 'Glass Onion' after the Beatles song of the same name, because there is no deeper meaning to any of his songs, he's literally ripping them off from bands that don't exist. Fans spend way too long trying to figure out who this album was inspired by - who could have possibly broken their precious Ru-kun's heart?? - and as we enlightened No Scrubs fans know, it was no one. Literally no one. Gojo just really liked this femme fatale vibe, and decided to cross dress the entire tour because of it.

Tokyo - The Wombats

Dance Floor Anthem - Good Charlotte

Thanks for the Memories - Fall Out Boy

I'm the Leading Man - (This Ain't a Scene) Fall Out Boy

Moving to New York - The Wombats

Misery Business - Paramore

-

5. Infinity on High

Hailed as a return to the unfettered, unabashed, anti-establishment garage-band jam-session appeal that had people flocking to No Scrubs in their heyday, this album made an intense splash as No Scrubs' Comeback Album. Despite the return to their signature gritty rock sound, this album was in fact the most produced of any of No Scrubs' albums. This album marks both the return of No Scrubs as well as their launch into global superstardom.

Ironically, Gojo named this after his favorite FOB album (I mean it IS called Infinity lol) despite not including a single FOB track. Fans widely consider "Island in the Sun" to be specifically about Hawks, which Gojo never confirms or denies (although he definitely did think the similarities to their island mission were amusing). In reality, the song that reminds him of Hawks - and himself - the most is Mayonnaise, which might be why it's one of his favorites.

Holiday - Green Day

Cherub Rock - Smashing Pumpkins

Cool Enough - (Mayonnaise) Smashing Pumpkins

1979 - Smashing Pumpkins

Island in the Sun - Weezer

Wake Me Up - (Wake Me Up When September Ends) Green Day

-

Bonus: Don't You Know Who (I Think) I AM? Acoustic Album

The first of Ru-kun's unexpected - and according to Makoto, utterly unplanned - acoustic albums, this bonus LP was met with delight and excitement from fans after Ru-kun had teased its release on Twitter. The intimate and personal nature of the simplistic mixing gave this album a cult following, and brought in a new segment of music fans that No Scrubs' music normally didn't appeal to.

Nobody Puts Baby In the Corner - Fall Out Boy

Grand Theft Autumn - Fall Out Boy

My Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon - Fall Out Boy

Notion - Rare Occasions

No Such Thing - John Mayer

-

Bonus: Take (Me) With a Grain of Salt

Despite the critical acclaim this acoustic album (and the full band versions eventually released afterwards) it was met with a lot of incendiary response at the time of its release. No Scrubs had finally achieved global stardom and was regularly topping hit charts across the world with the release of their album Infinity on High - and while music critics unanimously praised the EP as a worthy contender for Album of the Year, it was generally acknowledged truth that the album's popularity was owed in no small part to lead singer Ru-kun's sudden infamy that coincided at the same time.

The unfathomable depths of Ru-kun's new celebrity status in parallel to the band's brand of off-label, anti-establishment themes created friction within the fanbase. Many accused them of taking advantage of the current media coverage to promote sales, which bassist and band leader Makoto clapped back as 'just doing smart business'. In general, consensus was positive towards the sentiment; capitalizing on Ru-kun's fame and releasing an album in parallel to his identity reveal was just genius marketing.

However the timing of the release of Ru-kun's second acoustic album kicked up the discourse once again, with fans decrying the release as 'a fake sellout' aimed to exploit current gossip trends. However the album's drop was sudden and unexpected - with little to no pre-release marketing - lending credence to the narrative that Ru-kun wrote this album under the emotional duress of his personal life at the time.

Due to the staggering popularity of the acoustic album, the band eventually recorded and released a B-Side with full band versions.

Disenchanted - MCR

Stay Together For the Kids - Blink-182

Iris - Goo Goo Dolls

How's It Going To Be - Third Eye Blind

All These Things That I've Done - The Killers

[magical-oppas]

Now that the season is over, here are my predictions as to what will make it into Drive to Survive.

!Disclaimer! DTS was my entry into this sport. I think the show is great in its own way and an excellent way to reach new fans, this is mostly just for fun. (If you can't make fun of the things you love I'm the wrong person to have on your dash)

Here is my list in no particular order

HAAS: They love a HAAS focused episode, partly because it brings Steiner into the picture. I personally never got why people like him but if it works it works I guess. Expect many "Suck my balls" jokes. Otherwise we are scheduled for our regular viewing of HAAS being absolutely washed on track with Guenther calling Gene every five minutes.

Qatar: Things they WONT cover about Qatar; the drivers collapsing and passing out from heat exhaustion, the tracklimits and tyre fiasco. Things they WILL cover about Qatar; the mercs crashing into eachother on lap 1 (with THAT clip of Lewis playing like 50 times), Oscar winning the sprint. I imagine them spinning it in a way that makes the sprint a huge deal (cue clip of Will Buxton talking about how essential the sprint is for F1 as a sport and almost more important than the grand prix itself). This brings me to my next point

Civil wars: We have the real civil wars and the fake ones. I imagine them using the Qatar gp to make up a war between Oscar and Lando, framing it as Oscar as a rookie getting a win before Lando. Not sure who they are gonna make the villain here, probably Lando. They could also fabricate one at Ferrari given how this car suits Carlos more than Charles, will probably blow Monza out of proportion. Merc civil war might get a whole episode(be honest, we all know that one is a competitive car away from blowing up). The french civil war is the one I'm looking forward to the most because BOY do those two like to play it dirty. I'm frothing at the mouth already to see the backhanded compliments, the jabs, the shady comments they have probably been giving in the dts interviews. Speaking of Alpine

Alpine vs Mclaren(Oscar): This is a must because they made that whole thing last season. Episode will start out with a really smug Alpine team but we will get to witness the horrible car crash of a season they are having with the amazing dts editing. Can't wait to see the Silverstone part where they show the double DNF side by side with the Mclarens celebrating a p2 p4.

Singapore: The only non Redbull winner so I will be surprised if they don't feature it. They also love a dramatic crash and Lance's one in Singapore qualy is probably the most intense one we had this season. Will probably also use the onboard footage from Lando to show the tyre skirting by him to really amp it up.

Red bull: Will it be about their amazing achievements as a team this year? No. Will it be about Max and his fantastic race craft and the way he hasn't put a single foot wrong? No. It will be about Checo and his struggles. Will also have interviews of Christian defending him that become fewer and fewer the longer into the season we go. The win streak and the domination will be mentioned only in contrast to Checo. I also have a theory that red bull might drop checo and if they do I promise you the reveal in the show will go exactly like this:

Christian: We have given him time and patience, but at some point we need to start looking elsewhere, Mclaren have an amazing pairing, Mercedes have an amazing pairing even Ferrari have really started to get into their groove. He really left us no choice.

*Dramatic music, cut to black*

"Hi I'm Daniel Ricciardo and I'm a driver for Red Bull racing. Fuck, that felt so good to say *big Daniel smile.*"

Las Vegas: Will be shown as the most epic race this season with all drivers hyping it up (Might be able to include Max in that one with enough editing). What they WONT cover: all of the thursday/free practice shenanigans. What they WILL cover: The fact that the race was a banger.

Alpha Tauri: They have the perfect angle for this set up already. Nyck was talking himself up big time last season so they are just gonna overlay that with Nyck having a mare on track. They're gonna make whole "I'm back bitches" thing with Daniel. Then they're gonna make his accident real tragic (they could also make it into a Thing that it was Oscar that Daniel tried to avoid when putting it in the wall). Not really sure what they're gonna make out of Liams short stint.

Ferrari vs Mercedes fight for p2 is gonna be HELLA dramatic. They are going to drag out that race and insert radio messages where they don't belong. I also think they are gonna make it look like Carlos was closer to Lewis in the race than what he actually was.

As I said, these are just my speculations. based on the way the show has been and are mostly just for fun.

[boltlightning]

hey gamers. the dead man’s chest soundtrack has been rolling around my head a lot lately; the extended soundtrack from this playlist has been a godsend. specifically i want to gush about the instrumentation.

the potc soundtracks use a standard orchestra composition, focusing on strings and brass and less on woodwinds. DMC introduces the kraken and davy jones, who are associated with davy jones’ organ (of course) and — well. hans zimmer went nuts and recorded the orchestra, then piped that recording back over the music through a guitar amp. it sounds uncannily like an electric bass (and yes, a guitar now and then), so for our purposes i am going to say it sounds like electric bass with CRUNCHY reverb. it seems a little counterintuitive to associate ancient and cursed beings with more modern, experimental sounds, but altogether it creates this delightful, otherworldly, primordial rock band feel.

let’s take the track from when we first meet davy jones, dutchman arrival, for instance. it gives us a touch of that electric bass underneath jones’ theme when the sailors first show up, then pivots to normal orchestration as will is fighting. HE doesn’t know who they are, only that they’re odd — and when jones shows up finally, you get the bass holding that melody all on its own, this terrifying, growling refrain that sounds like it’s seething just under the surface. an undercurrent…a heartbeat, perhaps.

hold onto that thought. let’s move on. davy jones and his organ. jones having something as dramatic, expensive, and dominating as an organ on his ship speaks to how authoritative his character is — he’s playing his self-pitying music while his crew is breaking their backs to keep this awful ship sailing. he plays it solo, then the entire orchestra joins in, and beneath it all…the thrum of a heart. the melody of jones’ theme fits lock-and-key with the beat of a heart. here, everything is orchestral, but we’ve added the warm tones of choral voices under it all, like this is a horrible waltz that everyone aboard is doomed to keep dancing. and then it spirals into discordant chaos.

as a bonus: pipe organs have the countermelody playing with foot pedals, usually. imagine jones and his peg leg playing this kind of shit while the squid beard tickles the keys

i also L O V E the chorus humming in the back half of the whipping scene. it makes my skin crawl.

this all builds to the second kraken attack, the attack that introduces the viewer to the kraken in person. just…the constant buzz of the bass under these insane, warning low brass flourishes. the guitar-alike sound is in full force here and drapes this growly, eerie echo over the entire score. just when you hit the natural apex of the song, when you think you might reach some sort of musical resolution, it cuts out for a caesura — and bursts back in with the organ melody, huge and overwhelming over it all, as the kraken FULLY CRACKS A SHIP IN HALF. just in case you forgot who made this all happen. this is the EXACT way a heroic theme would triumphantly emerge in any classical piece of work. eat your heart out, holst.

the way jones’ theme is reprised with horns in the ship to ship score is so chilling too. it’s played in will's instrument after all! it's this teeny little bit of hope, a sign the pearl might get away — yet it’s getting lost in all the tenor voices just to really remind you how hopeless this all is. and then everything drops away and jones’ theme fully emerges in the low bass; it’s raunchy and nasty and so, so scary. god. what a score.

they do such a good job with the themes, even without visuals it’s so easy to tell who is on screen doing what in any of the tracks from the wheel of fortune section (specifically heart madness on the extended soundtrack). if there’s soaring brass and string stings, you know local romance heroes will and norrington are trying to kill each other on the wheel. if it’s quiet with a plucky little string soli, low reeds, and snare accents, you know jack is doing some shenanigans off to the side. if there’s deep and growling bass and organ swells, it’s elizabeth and pintel and ragetti racing against the crew of the dutchman for the heart.

in particular there’s this delightful bit in the track immediately preceding it, 3-way sword fight, where the melody starts and stops as all three dudes with swords are getting their footing on the various precarious places they take their fight. it builds and builds, and soon the melody is getting juggled by three different groups of instruments as elizabeth gets drawn into the fight too. talk about chaos.

on a related, but more lowkey character note: i ADORE that beckett’s associated instrument is the harpsichord. you only hear it a little bit in the track when will is bargaining with beckett. the harpsichord immediately puts you in the mind of aristocratic england; it was a household instrument back then, it’s plausibly an instrument beckett could play himself! it’s particular, but at the same time it’s subtle. it’s not dominating. he’s a new player in the game with a unique position, and damn does he know how to play the game.

and FINALLY. to compare beckett to someone ostentatious in a much different way: jack is associated with two themes, summed up perfectly in this track. this big, great, sweeping, seafaring melody we know and love, with regimented snare drum and timpani, the whole nine yards. it invokes jack’s reputation, the captain in his title…and then it fades to that stupid little soli, the gremlin trickster we all know and love.

yet compare that track with this demo of the same themes — it’s the exact same music, just with a solo piano, and it sounds so moody, even when the key and tempo pick up. THAT’S the power of instrumence baby! the texture, timbre, and context of any given melody changes the weight and impact, even if the notes are exactly the same. 

finally finally: i hope the timpani player finds a million dollars every day in the street.

ok. phew. this soundtrack makes me want to go learn cello and i needed to get that out of my system. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.