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steinwayandhissons · 9 months

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arctic monkeys and every time the word ‘love’ is mentioned

whatever people say I am that’s what I’m not

tonight there’ll be some love, tonight there’ll be a ruckus yeah regardless of what’s gone before

~ view from the afternoon

oh there ain’t no love, no montagues or capulets

~ i bet you look good on the dancefloor

all that’s left is the proof that love’s not only blind but deaf… yeah I’d love to tell you all my problem

~ fake tales of san francisco

she makes a subtle proposition, I’m sorry love I’ll have to turn you down

~ when the sun goes down

lady, where has your love gone, i was looking but can’t find it anywhere, they always offer when there’s loads of love around but when you’re short of some it’s nowhere to be found

~ no buses

well how can you wake up with someone you don’t love and not feel slightly phased by it

~ leave before the lights come on

favourite worst nightmare

it’s wrong wrong wrong but we’ll do it anyway cause we love a bit of trouble

~ balaclava

and those dreams weren’t as daft as they seem, aren’t as daft as they seem my love

~ fluorescent adolescent

there’s room for the trouble and there’s lovers to be had

~ this house is a circus

it’d be a big mistake for you to wait and let me waste your time, really love it’s fine, I said really love it’s fine

~ the bad thing

old yellow bricks, love’s a risk… houdini love you don’t know what you’re running away from

~ old yellow bricks

another roll around and another push and shove, further away from the idea of love

~ da frame 2r

the more you keep on looking the more it’s hard to take, love we’re in stalemate… you’re slacking love where have you been

~ the bakery

am I too quick to assume that the love is no longer in bloom

~ too much to ask

humbug

i had a hole in the pocket of my favourite coat and my love dropped into the lining

~ i haven’t got my strange

suck it and see

i wanna feel your love brick by brick

~ brick by brick

do you still feel love is a laserquest or do you take it all more seriously… when I’m not being honest I pretend that you were just some lover

~ love is a laserquest

your love is like a studded leather headlock

~ suck it and see

jealousy in technicolour, fear by name, love by numbers… crushing up a bundle of love

~ that’s where you’re wrong

before she showed you how to shake love’s steady hand

~ the blonde o sonic shimmer trap

your love’s not what I need, so don’t give it to me

~ evil twin

it’s not like I’m falling in love I just want you to do me no good… the look of love, the rush of blood

~ no.1 party anthem

love buckles under the strain of those wild nights

~ mad sounds

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough

~ snap out of it

love like locked horns, love like dominoes… love like thunder, love like falling snow

~ electricity

I know you’re nothing like mine cause she’s walking on sunshine and your love would tear us apart

~ you’re so dark

tranquility base hotel and casino

love came in a bottle with a twist off cap, let’s all have a swig and do a hot lap… but it’s alright, cause you love me

~ star treatment

when true love takes a grip it leaves you without a choice

~ golden trunks

pattern language in the mood for love

~ the world’s first ever monster truck front flip

I wanna stay with you my love, the way some science fiction does

~ science fiction

the dawn won’t stop weighing a tonne, I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done, but I haven’t stopped loving you once

~ the ultracheese

the car

lights out on the wonder park, your saw toothed lover boy was quick off the mark

~ jet skis on the moat

put your heavy metal to the test, there might be half a love song in it all for you

~ mr schwartz

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #listen this was purely out of curiosity #there are so many poetic and imaginative ways in which alex describes love #i just wanted a tangible record of every time he just straight up uses the word #i was surprised that humbug only had one mention and even that was a b side but when i was making this i realised that it was such a #lyrically dense and innovative album and descriptions of love were more elaborate and straightforward #*less straightforward #(might make a separate post about that)#also found that the other albums were quite consistent except the car #i found it interesting that most of the songs aren’t actually about the same kind of love like the earlier albums were #the earlier ones use love as a nickname and portray the physical embodiment of being in love #and even in tbhc it describes this feeling despite there being slightly fewer mentions #but the car seems more like a goodbye album… not even about breaking up… just goodbye which is very….#there’s no room for love in amongst the melancholia and introspection #and makes me wonder about his relationship with love at the moment #it seems very disassociated and immaterial like he has no interest in spouting poetics about love like he did before #and i hope he can rebuild that relationship #i could probably say more but im not going to bc this is getting way too long #cheers if you actually read this whole fucking essay #i spent way too long on this if you cant tell

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ihave-toomanyfandoms · 5 months

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So uh what if Etho and Bdubs' actually manage to be final two?

***

Etho was fraying at the edges. It was evident in the constant jittering of his hands, the churning of his stomach at the mere mention of food. There were days were he woke up so hyper aware of his surroundings that he wanted to pull himself apart, every sound echoing tenfold in his head, the cacophony drowning out every thought. It was suffocating, paralyzing and he could do nothing but to stay rooted to his spot on the edge of the bed, desperately trying to keep himself from unraveling completely. Bdubs usually kept his distance on these days and Etho was grateful for it. The thought of him hovering around him, or even worse, touching him in this state made his skin crawl.

There were other days, where he woke up but didn't feel like he did, a thick blanket of fog between him and the world. Etho had regarded these as his good days, even though he sometimes startled back into his body in strange places with no memory of how he'd gotten there. It was dangerous, of course, to be so disconnected from himself, from reality. Once he had found himself standing on Bdubs' side of the bed at night, hands hovering inches away from his throat. He had stopped thinking of these days as his good days after that and lived in silent, agonising fear that one day he would wake up to his hands around Bdubs' throat or a bloody knife in his hands.

It was on one of these days where he had snapped back to the sound of his own name ringing in his ears and a hand gripping the back of his jacket, choking him as he leaned precariously over the edge of a ravine. He had a moment to marvel at the swooping feeling of vertigo in his stomach before he was yanked back, nearly tumbling to the floor. Bdubs' hand was steady against his back.

"Woah there, watch your step." He said and pulled his hand away again. Etho turned around to face him.

"Bdubs." He rasped, his throat itching like he hadn't spoken in days. Judging by the way Bdubs' eyes lit up at the sound he probably hadn't.

"There you are." He whispered with a smile and reached up to cup Etho's face with his hands. "Thought I'd lost you there for a second."

It wasn't clear wether he was talking about the ravine or the static that was still threatening to suffocate him again.

"I'm still here." He muttered and let himself be pulled down into his arms.

That night, they spend two tense hours lying in silence, Etho feeling less like a human and more like a loose collection of strings, trying it's hardest not to shake apart, until Bdubs' finally gets up with a sigh and pulls him outside.

It's a moonless night, the star seemingly twice as bright in its absence and Etho is unsure if lying out here on the grass is better, his mind threatening to untether itself to float up into the endless sky above them. He clings to Bdubs' hand like a lifeline, the weight of the body next to him the only thing still grounding him in this world, in his own body.

"Etho." Bdubs' says into the quiet and Etho rolls onto his side to look at him. There's a quiet, exhausted smile on the other's lips as he carefully reaches out to smooth his hand over Etho's forehead. He nearly winces at the contact, his skin burning where Bdubs' fingers slide over it. He still leans into the contact.

"I'm sorry." Etho forces out around the lump in his throat. Red static dances at the edges of his vision. "I don't think I can hold on any longer."

"It's okay." Bdubs whispers and leans forward to press a burning kiss to his temple. Etho let's go of his hand in favour of cupping Bdubs' face. He stares at him, searching for a hint of resentment, of anger, of anything that would make this any easier but there is nothing but understanding and forgiveness there. Etho has never loved him more than in this moment and he hates himself for it

"Thank you for trying anyway." Bdubs says and splays his fingers against Etho's cheek, wiping away the tears in the corner of his eyes. "I know it was hard for you."

"I'm sorry." Etho repeats, because it's the only thing he can say right now, the only thing he has left to say.

"It's alright." Bdubs says as he grabs Etho's wrist and pulls them down, forcing Etho's hands to curl around his throat. Red floods his vision as his fingers dig into the tissue, nails breaking the sensitive skin.

"I told you I wanted you to win anyways."

Etho squeezes.

#ethubs #secret life #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #them <3 #this is very rough and not edited and not formatted #it's also a bit fucked up #so uh #don't judge me too harshly i just woke up from a haze and had these 800 words in a text document #tw disassociation #gave myself pretty bad brainfog with this so i added a tw #my writing

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kkpwnall · 2 years

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wine & dine

or: the quickest way to a man’s heart (and parts beyond)

((edit: now on ao3))

[ @corrodedcoughin laid down a reverse uno card, and i am extremely susceptible to gentle persuasion. i know you asked for headcanons, but apparently i have lots of thoughts about eddie taking a cooking class to wine and dine steve so this one got a bit away from me. anyway, hope you like it, and hope your day got better. ]

“Shit!”

Steve’s steps up the trailer stairs falter when he hears Eddie’s shout. He balances a tray of cupcakes and a bouquet of red daisies in one hand and knocks on the door.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts again, followed by a loud banging and clanging.

“Eddie?” Steve knocks again. He’s been here often enough since they started dating that he knows he doesn’t have to knock, that he’s welcome to just walk right in. But it’s their date night, and he wants to do this right.

More banging, more clanging, more cursing. Then the alarm starts. That’s enough for Steve.

“Eddie!” He bursts through the door and skids to a stop halfway to the kitchenette. The trailer is full of smoke and Eddie is right in the middle of it, waving a dish towel in front of the screaming smoke detector. Steve drops the cupcakes and the flowers on the small kitchen table and grabs a flaming pan of… something off the burner, moving it to one of the empty burners further back on the range and cutting the gas.

Eddie gives up trying to fan the smoke away, and climbs up on the counter to rip the alarm out of the ceiling instead. Steve grabs his abandoned towel and flings open the kitchen window, fanning the smoke out as Eddie manages to get the thing off the ceiling without bringing the tiles crashing down on their heads.

He rips the batteries out of the back of it and turns to look at Steve, panting like he’s run a marathon. Eddie’s thighs are eye level with Steve, who has to drag his eyes up and away from his favorite gray sweatpants, the ones that always make him a little crazy, past the old sleeveless band shirt cropped above Eddie’s waist, to finally look up at him. Eddie’s curls are spilling loose from the bun he’d tied them up in, framing his flushed face and wild eyes.

“You’re early,” is all he says, looking Steve up and down. He suddenly feels over-dressed, standing there in the middle of the tiny kitchen with his maroon button down securely tucked into his best pressed khakis. He even wore the leather shoes with the little tassels on them.

Steve tugs self-consciously at his shirt and looks around the kitchen. “It’s date night,” he says simply. “Thought I'd see if you needed any help with dinner.”

It looks like Eddie’s used every dish in the house. Twice. He’s crouched on the kitchen counter now, looking like a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movements. Steve slowly reaches out a hand and tucks some of those stray curls behind Eddie’s ear. “Seems like you’ve got it handled though.”

Eddie sighs and flops down so he’s sitting on the counter. He puts his head in his hands and mumbles, “this isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here, you’re here, you made us…” he looks over at the softly smoldering pan, trying to figure out what exactly Eddie’s been making, “dinner? Sounds like the perfect date night to me.”

Eddie just groans and shakes his head, hiding behind his hands and his hair.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad, it’s only a little burnt. We can still salvage it.” He throws the towel on his shoulder, and unbuttons his cuffs, starts to roll up his sleeves. “What are we having?”

“Beef stroganoff,” Eddie mumbles through his hands.

“If you’re going for medium well, I think it’s done.”

Eddie just groans. “Steve…”

“Hey, hey,” Steve puts his hands on Eddie’s wrists, gently pulling them away from his face.

Eddie looks close to tears. Steve brushes Eddie’s bangs out of his eyes with one hand and cups his cheek with the other. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, I didn’t know you could cook like this. I thought we were gonna have Macaroni a la Eddie tonight.”

Eddie makes a face, and looks away, mumbling something so quietly, Steve wouldn’t have known he’d said anything if he didn’t see his lips move. Steve dodges down and around, trying to catch Eddie’s gaze again as he plays keep-away with his eyes.

“Didn’t catch that, Eds.”

Eddie sighs dramatically and half shouts, “I’ve been taking a cooking class down at the learning annex!”

“Oh…” that pulls Steve up short. That’s time, that’s effort, that’s… serious.

“The head chef at Enzo’s has a class every Thursday night, and it went fine when I made it there! I don’t know what happened tonight!”

“Well there’s your problem, you’ve got an Italian chef teaching you a German recipe.”

“Pretty sure it’s Russian, dude,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “And it’s not just Italian, she teaches a different recipe every week.”

“Ok so, let’s figure this out. Where’s the recipe?”

Eddie looks around and fishes out a slightly singed, very crumpled piece of paper from under the corner of the cutting board with a half-chopped onion on it. It’s less a recipe and more doodles and half-written thoughts in Eddie’s chicken-scratch. Some of the ingredients don’t even have a measurement next to them, just ‘brandy,’ ‘Worcestershire,’ ‘beef’. Nothing like how Steve bakes, with everything carefully measured out and plotted before he even starts mixing.

It also becomes rapidly apparent that Eddie doesn’t have half the ingredients the recipe calls for, as Eddie directs Steve from his perch on the counter, translating his hieroglyphic scrawl and making substitutions on the fly. But together they manage to cobble together something that might resemble a technical definition of beef stroganoff. It’s got beef at least, all the burnt parts scraped off, and noodles. Steve figures it’s close enough.

Eddie rinses out an old coffee grounds can to put the flowers in while Steve plates their dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches Eddie holding the bouquet to his nose, a soft smile on his face.

When they sit down at the scratched and dented and much-loved table, Eddie quickly scarfs down several bites. He chews thoughtfully and makes a face. Steve’s barely got the fork halfway to his mouth when Eddie whisks his plate away and throws the whole thing in the garbage can.

“Hey, I was eating that!”

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says fiercely. “You’re not getting poisoned tonight.”

Steve takes the bite on his fork defiantly and stares Eddie down as he chews. It’s somehow both over-cooked and underdone. He chews and chews and eventually swallows, and does not make a face.

Eddie stares back, hands on his hips, working his jaw back and forth. Steve twirls his fork in the air. “I came hungry tonight. I’ll eat it out of the trash can, don’t tempt me.”

He holds Eddie’s gaze for a beat longer, then he’s up and out of his chair, pivoting around Eddie like he’s on the basketball court. He just manages to stick his fork in the trash can before Eddie jumps on his back.

“At least let me get the plates out of there!”

“No!”

They wrestle for a few minutes, knocking things off the counter, and making a bigger mess than the one Steve walked in on tonight. Eddie grapples for his hands, but Steve’s arms are longer so he gives up and puts his hands over Steve’s eyes, making him stumble backwards into the refrigerator. The cereal boxes on top fall off as Eddie gives a small “ooft” and slides off his back.

Steve whirls around and pins Eddie to the fridge with his hands on his hips. His lips find Eddie’s and he kisses him fiercely, already breathless. Eddie holds out for a moment, just for a beat, then he winds his arms around Steve’s shoulders and sinks his hands into Steve’s hair with a deep sigh. His mouth parts and Steve deepens the kiss, titling his head just so, tongues brushing, hot, desperate, feverish. He drags his hands slowly up Eddie’s waist, toying with the raw edge of his cropped shirt, thumbing over his ribs. Just as slowly, he drags his hands back down, plucking at the waistband of those stupid sweatpants. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along Eddie’s jaw, down his neck. He drags his tongue over Eddie’s collarbone and scrapes his teeth over the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Why have you been taking cooking classes?” Steve breathes into his neck, trailing his nose back up under his ear.

“Don’t make me say it…” Eddie says with a groan.

“Eddie…” He sinks his teeth into Eddie’s pulse point, and soothes the bite with his tongue.

Eddie growls, he actually growls. Steve feels it rumble from Eddie’s throat under his lips as Eddie gently tugs on his hair in frustration. It sends a thrill of electricity straight down Steve’s spine, making him press closer. “Because I wanted to learn how to make fancy recipes for you! You deserve better than box mac and cheese!”

Steve pulls back, just slightly, just enough to see Eddie’s eyes, just enough so Eddie knows he’s serious.

“I love box mac and cheese. Especially when you cut up the little hotdogs to put in it? With the hot sauce? That’s what makes it Macaroni a la Eddie.”

“You’re Steve Harrington,” Eddie says desperately, “you deserve to be wined and dined. And I—”

“Hey,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hips in his hands, shaking them gently. “You’re Eddie Munson, if anyone deserves to be wined and dined it’s you. I’ll get dressed up and take you out every night. Candlelight, roses, you name it.” He can’t resist, doesn’t even try to resist, diving back in for another kiss, gently dancing his fingers from Eddie’s hips to his waist, then smoothing them back down. “I’ll hold your hand and shout about it from the rooftops. ‘I’m dating Eddie Munson and we’re more in love than you’ll ever be!’”

“Always a competition with you jocks,” Eddie rolls his eyes and grouches, but his tone is fond.

“It is, and I’m winning.” Steve pecks a kiss on Eddie’s nose.

Eddie catches his lips, draws him back down for another kiss. It’s less frantic but just as heated. Until Steve’s stomach growls and Eddie breaks away laughing.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I came hungry,” Steve laughs, pressing his forehand against Eddie’s.

“Yeah, well… sorry I messed up dinner. I think my cheffing days are over. Glad you like box macaroni, ‘cause that’s all we’re having from here on out.”

“No way,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I just got used to fancy home cooking, I need to taste your other recipes. And you need a sous chef.”

Eddie looks at him skeptically. “Steve, I almost burnt down the trailer tonight, you really want to try that again?”

“Absolutely,” Steve says immediately, kissing him lightly again.

Eddie still doesn’t look convinced though, so Steve says, “let’s make a deal, ok? You can experiment as much as you want in the kitchen, try anything at any time, as long as you let me help. And, if it’s truly inedible, which I do not for a single second believe is possible, I’ll buy us a pizza. Deal?”

Eddie’s eyes flick between both of Steve’s as he thinks it over. He bites his lip and nods. “Deal.”

“Good,” Steve kisses him again, sealing the deal. He pulls Eddie away from the fridge and nudges him towards his bedroom with a wink. “Go get changed, we’ve got a date tonight.”

Eddie laughs, “what, you don’t like the sweatpants?”

“I love the sweatpants,” Steve says with feeling. “Which is why you need to get changed right now. Otherwise I won’t be able to keep my hands off you for the rest of our date.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a cheeky wink of his own.

Steve playfully slaps at his ass and starts looking for the phone book. “The Works?”

“No olives,” Eddie reminds him.

“Extra olives, got it,” Steve says, picking up the phone.

Eddie sticks his tongue out at him, backing away towards his room.

Steve quickly dials the number and fumbles through the order. They’ve got at least thirty minutes before the delivery shows up. If he hurries, maybe he can take those sweatpants off with his teeth.

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