#i know it's my second dj posting in a row

[lizluzz]

Okay then

#our flag means death #ofmd #david jenkins #i know it's my second dj posting in a row #but what can i do when this is what he posts

[jnnul]

nct dream in college

a/n: my third fucking time posting this istg this is why i quit the first time tumblr let me post things in peace

word count: 2.6k

tags: idk the frattiest boys in town doing what college dudes do, just fluff, hinting at insecurity + fear for the future, and a couple mentions of ppl not following their dreams for practicality sake but what can u do tw: mentions of drinking & underage drinking, mentions of sex but no graphics

Originally posted by choi-soobin

gif creds: @choi-soobin​

finance bro w a music minor

i’m so sorry to all of the ppl who hc him as a nerdy music kid who just always thinks abt music

but that boy is a finance bro thru and thru and i will die on that hill

he’s in a frat but he’s honestly rlly shitty abt act going to the non-party frat stuff

and even the parties, he rlly only goes to bc he dj’s every single time

ppl get annoyed sometimes bc mark always tries to slip in some of his stuff into the mix but it’s honestly so good that he gets away w it

his homies make fun of him for it but he sits in the first three rows bc a) he’s fucking blind and b) he act rlly likes finance

like he enjoys the idea of finance + what he could do w it in the future

even if he doesn’t necessarily like business calc

goes to church on sundays (if he’s not hungover) and will be so respectful abt it that he convinces some of his non-christian friends to go to

mark has a good rep on campus for being an all around pretty chill dude

everyone’s also half convinced that he’s a plug

swears up and down that he doesn’t smoke but ppl have videos of him puffin like it’s his side hustle

it is

kinda sticks to his own friend group bc he’s a little shy

but when he’s drunk (when someone wrestles him out of his little dj booth to do shots w them)

he knows everyone and their mother all of a sudden

kinda cute when he’s drunk cause he’s rlly lovey

ppl kinda like like him as that cute guy in their class but he never rlly goes out of his way to pursue anyone so anyone who’s interested has to be the one who chases

isn’t clueless but is oblivious until one day you’re basically sitting on his lap during lecture and he’s like 😟🤨🧐😏

the day he gets cuffed tho literally no one can pull him apart from his girl

Originally posted by rainbowrenjun

gif creds: @rainbowrenjun​

so...this might be controversial

but i think renjun would be a international relations major, not an art major

i feel like he’s a practical guy and he likes art but not enough to pursue it as a livelihood yannowhatimean

isn’t that well connected on campus bc he keeps his friend circle very exclusive but literally everybody and their mother knows him

kinda has a reputation for being a little cliquey but he gets away w it bc he’s just genuinely a decent guy who’s on the more private side

you will never catch him drunk

like he def won’t be sober at parties but you’re never gonna see him stumbling around

the type of guy to keep an eye on a girl’s cup if she leaves it somewhere, even if no one asks him to

also volunteers on the weekends at a local shelter for ppl of different nationalities

a private guy tho. ppl rlly don’t get to know or understand him unless they’re part of his friend group

which is nearly impossible to join

just kinda cruisin’ thru life bc he’s unproblematic and just rlly wants to get a degree and dip

gets the some of the best grades out of his friends (jeno is the only one who does better and jaemin make a close second) but donghyuck insists it’s bc renjun’s major isn’t a real major

chenle threatens to send the video of donghyuck and renjun slipping on their asses and falling into the pool as renjun tried to fight donghyuck to every single person that renjun even considers seeing romantically

probably dates once a year, eventually falls out of attraction and then swears off dating

until donghyuck gets on his ass abt not having sex and then renjun’s competitive streak gets activated

during which he speed dates for like three weeks before finding someone and then trying to date them

isn’t very emotionally invested in his romantic relationships

except for one of them, and ever since they told renjun off, he was unseperable from them

renjun may or may not have a masochist streak it’s still unclear

Originally posted by poppypeachy

gif creds: @jaemtens​

a physics and education double major

he didn’t really know what he wanted to go into so he was undeclared for the longest time until he took a physics gen ed and ever since then, he’s been super into physics

only added education as his second major after he ta’d for physics 1 and for the first time, could actually see himself in that career

gets the most shit for being in a frat and simultaneously being the biggest fucking nerd but he just thinks its funny

isn’t super smart (like he’s not a genius or anything) but he works rlly hard for his grades so even tho his friends (donghyuck) make fun of him, everyone is inspired by his work ethic

until it’s the weekend

and then it’s like he’s another person altogether

he’s downing shots like there’s no tomorrow and if jeno lee attends a party by himself, then he’s leaving with at least one person

on a particularly daring occasion, he was seen leaving with three

people are convinced that jeno has a twin brother bc of how bold, lively, and undeniably charismatic he gets when he lets go of his inhibitions

jeno just smiles a sweet smile and redirects the conversation

a very much go with a flow type of guy

he’s down for pretty much anything as long as he makes it home in time to study for the next day

spontaneous camping trip? sure. smoke a blunt? sure. join a threesome w one of his best friends and his girlfriend? sure.

he just didn’t take a lot of things too seriously (besides his academics and whether or not his dick got wet)

and that was why a lot of ppl liked him

he was also a rlly easy person to talk to

everyone knew that the first half of his office hours were for actual physics and stuff and the second half was just for chilling w him

which is how he met his s/o, actually

they used to come for office hours every single time jeno held them and would stay the whole time; it was only two weeks later when jeno accidentally saw their test scores (straight 90s without the curve) that he realized that maybe, he was in the clear to make a move

after the semester is over ofc

Originally posted by donghyuckkies

gif creds: @donghyuckkies​

a poli sci major with a minor (or as he likes to call it, a concentration) in criminal justice

will not let you forget that he’s in a frat

no one has the heart to tell him that he almost got kicked out of the frat 3 times but they keep him around bc he’s just a good guy overall

plus he brings the most girls to parties so it’s rlly not all that bad

the dude who’s surprisingly quiet and intellectual, but only when you catch him on his own

when he’s with his friends, he acts completely differently, even if he turns around and mouths “i’m sorry” while no one is looking

probably runs a club like devil’s advocate club but it’s just a silly club that uses university money to buy snacks, chill, and talk about controversial opinions

lowkey the guy to go to if you need something or need something done because the man knows everyone

and everyone knows him

will make fun of you for studying, and might even steal your textbook, but sends you a quizlet with last year’s answers bc that’s just the type of person he is

does not study. will not study. would rather listen to music w mark or party w jeno.

still has pretty decent grades bc he’s charming and persuasive and what is political science besides the art of professional bullshitting

once you get close to him, he becomes one of the best ppl for advice

will not let you go after the sneaky link turned situationship

mostly bc he knows exactly what said situationship is rlly up to behind the scenes (i’m telling you, the fbi wishes that had him; he knows everyone’s business)

will die before he tells anyone but probs runs one of those confession pages

partly how he gets all of his info from

thinks it’ll ruin his street cred if he tells ppl he’s secretly playing cupid and that’s why he’s always messing w seemingly random combos of ppl

until one day, a confession comes in for him

def one of those boys who ‘reforms’ after he meets his s/o but is a loving menace nonetheless

Originally posted by jae-min

gif creds: @jae-min​ 

microbiology major on the pre-med track with a minor in visual art

has tried dropping the pre-med track at least 4 times but absolutely will not bc he gets too much fomo

also wants a job. with guaranteed 401k compensation and benefits. so.

is one of the less toxic pre-med kids but only because he’s so close to dropping out that he just can’t seem to take or give a shit anymore

lives in a perpetual state of caffeine high bc he will be damned if jeno gets better grades than him

lowkey, i feel like he’s one of those guys who only goes to parties to find ppl to fuck

like he doesn’t rlly like to drink or smoke (although he will take the occasional eddie)

but mans is stressed from the constant personality clash (within himself) so he literally jackhammers his stress away

too crude? sorry.

was once upon a time in every single club known to mankind

dropped out of almost all of them when he made the friends he wanted to make

somehow always ends up having to pay when everyone goes out

doesn’t tell anyone that he always loses on purpose (unless it’s to chenle) bc he knows that college is tough and not everyone has the same financial freedom as he does

exclusively studies at the school library bc he doesn’t rlly spend time w his friends outside of his main friend group unless its while he’s studying or at a party

although he’s not rlly studying bc he probably already got the notes and answers from the people who took the class a semester earlier than him

but again, he’s got a competitive streak about his grades so studies anyway

which is where he meets his s/o bc they’re always sitting in the same spot, looking stressed as fuck as they study

one time, jaemin and the other person are the only two ppl left studying post 3 am during hell week and he offers to buy them coffee

studies w his lovely s/o from then onwards and offers to bite donghyuck whenever he tries to disturb them <3

Originally posted by istjun

gif creds: @istjun​

marketing major i’m so sorry

he’s just such a finance bro + business major but he hates finance so he goes into marketing instead

school is a fucking joke to him

he’ll try hard enough to get by in his classes (and bc just being around poor stressed out jisung gives him motivation to study) but no more and no less than that

the first one to call it quits when they’re all studying together but renjun practically tapes him to a chair

also surprisingly intuitive and good at marketing so even if he barely tries, professors love him and somehow make him pass anyway

knows every international kid on campus bc he gets what it’s like and makes an effort to make them feel more at home

gets invited to every party that the international kids throw and never looks at a frat ever again

they go so fucking hard at those parties that chenle, THE business major, gets tired and has to turn in pre-2 am to avoid alcohol poisoning

doesn’t get home until 7 pm the next day bc a) he’s hungover and b) they love him so much and force him to stay so he just bums at their place until he’s good to go

will make fun of you and your bad decisions (even if they aren’t that bad) but will protect you at every turn if anyone else tries to say smth

will fucking go to bat for ppl he doesn’t even know that well bc chenle hates mean ppl

is on the intramural basketball team w a couple other guys

is very popular on the team bc he always knows the best restaurants and has been known to pay when he knows someone’s a tight spot

is very lowkey abt his wealth bc ppl like to take advantage of it so the ppl he does choose to help out are also very lowkey abt it

the type of dude to spot you like $50 and won’t ask you abt it

but ppl always pay him back whenever they can bc they know he’s helping a lot of ppl in rough situations, even if he’s very hush hush abt it

is the reason why jisung joins a frat and singlehandedly boosts his rizz by a decameter

probably has a childhood sweetheart that lives at home so he doesn’t partake in the romance scene on campus at all

is in love with them and will boast abt being taken

Originally posted by fool4nct

gif creds: @fool4nct​

a dance major

impractical? maybe. but the world’s going to shit anyway so might as well do what you want, right?

that’s what chenle says to jisung the day that he’s applying to his top school

is literally the student that the school begs to have join

offered every single scholarship under the sun to have him join bc such raw talent is rare nowadays and he’s just stuck like 😟😟😟

bc he had no idea that he would get in, much less have them like him so much

but for all his talent, he’s always fucking stressed abt something

sometimes it’ll be about a choreo and other times it’ll be abt the fact that he’s almost 98% sure he won’t get a job after college but his friends always get him out of his head

has abt 6 friends on campus (total) and it’s bc of chenle

so after freshman year, he decides to get out of his shell a little bit

and jisung park is the MAN to be around when he does

he’s charismatic, tall, an amazing performer, and really, just such a suave guy that straight men kinda have that weird jealousy where he’s so cool ppl wanna be friends w him and also hate him

still gets insecure abt his skills or his future but has ppl around him who love him and help him out of it every time

i’m ngl i think that he singlehandedly makes the dance team tryout numbers go from 12 - 15 ppl to 50 - 60 ppl

dance is his entire life and when he’s not rizzing up ppl (or honestly, getting rizzed up by them; he can’t flirt for shit when he rlly wants to) he’s on the dance floor

donghyuck has had to physically rip him off the floor to get dinner after a particularly rough night

even his fave dance teacher revoked his after class dance room privileges bc ppl got worried abt how much time he spent in there

decides to take a break when he realizes just how empty his days are w/o dance

gets into music production and has worked w mark more than once under pseudonyms

won’t say anything but listens to what everyone says abt the song when mark plays it at a party

still working on himself so a s/o isn’t rlly in the picture but ppl are not mad abt it bc he’s a good time with or w/o commitment

#jnnul #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct dream headcanons #nct #nct headcanons #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #mark fluff #mark headcanons #renjun fluff #renjun headcanons #jeno fluff #jeno headcanons #jaemin fluff #jaemin headcanons #chenle headcanons #chenle fluff #jisung fluff #jisung headcanons

[hellkitepriest]

saturday night ee dj set events

jeremy wasn’t there because i guess he did all the work yesterday

mike and pete just sat at a table next to the decks talking to each other the whole time and i got to very awkwardly shake their hands (transgender moment) while mike said he remembered seeing me the previous day. Yep,

get your freak on by missy elliott was played for the second night in a row

alex robertshaw looks more comfortable behind the decks than he does 75% of the time but still looks rather awkward

alex robertshaw saw me sitting on the sofa with my friends and grinned and nodded at me because i guess he recognised me

i did not see this happen but @abattoirstars apparently witnessed jon putting his full hand into alex’s front pocket for some reason

alex played a slightly fucked version of once in a lifetime by talking heads and we could not figure out why it sounded Off but something was up

i asked alex if the podcast guy ever saw my niche synth shirt, because the picture he took of it in nottingham was on mike’s phone, and he said yes and that he “absolutely loved it” and “wants one” so i guess i’ve captured the imagination of some modular synth podcaster

just like, way too much heterosexual kissing during snoop dogg

impulsively asking alex if he could play it’s my life by talk talk and him making some vague approving noises

then thinking “haha what a funny night this is i’m going to post about it on tumblr” only for alex to lean over to me a solid minute later and go “sorry what was it you wanted?” while i was fully in the tumblr post box GO AWAY

having to shout IT’S MY LIFE BY TALK TALK at this poor man who then nodded and went “i don’t know if we’ve got it, but i do love that song,”

they did not play it’s my life by talk talk

jon hugged us goodbye as he left and went “good to see you two :)”

alex also hugged us goodbye also

pete gave us a kind little wave

:))))) 😭🥰☺️😌

#just absolute nonsense sorry everyone #c vs the band

[runthepockets]

hi!! just coming into your inbox because i saw you posted about the show ramy & i also loved it & have nobody to talk to about it. i know ramy youssef said he might make a season 4 but it's not official and i can't stop thinking about what a season 4 would be...fatherhood? but also he still owes a bajillion dollars due to that diamond piece he lost, right? idk. i welcome any and all thoughts <3

Hey dudette! Thanks for the follow, I'm in a pretty similar position so I feel you lol. The girl who introduced me to the show was a girl from a dating app and we don't really talk anymore so I don't have a lot of people to talk about it to either, thanks for hitting me up!

If the series ended where it left off, I'd be down with that, but I also can't deny I'm curious as to where the Hassan family + their friends end up after the third season. Putting my theories under read more cus it's a lot.

Here's what I'm thinking: it takes a really long time for Zainab to come around, but by the last 1-3 episodes she kind of accepts that Ramy is the father of her kid and she can't deny that, nor take that away from her daughter, and she can only come to this conclusion after a lot of time spent as a single mother (which comes with pros and cons) and a lot material proof that Ramy is a changed man; yeah he's still got his vices and flaws, but we all do, and he's not fucking his cousin or doing deals for the Israel mob anymore and he's finally found a nice balance between being a peaceful, average American millennial and being the firstborn son of an immigrant, which is definitely not an easy pattern to break.

Dena gets married, for sure, but the majority of her character still revolves around her studies and her career. There's scenes where her fiancé (I forget his name) gently drags her away from her studies to go on cute little dates or to remind her to eat dinner or to take her to diners for breakfast and catch up and pray and all, flirting with her over text and calling her on Facetime every now and then and linking up on weekends and vice versa, and it's established pretty well that he has a life of his own and is doing pretty well with his roommates and stuff. He and Dena get married a little after she passes the bar.

Farouk and Maysa have to sell the house, and it's super bittersweet. Ramy and Dena help them move all their stuff into this cute little 2 bedroom apartment, the second room doubling as a guest room and as a room for when one needs space from the other. It's weird not having the kids around and it's a little closer to the city than they like, but it's got a lot of perks too. Maysa can drive for Lyft and make friends easier cus everything is Right There, Farouk actually finds his rhythm as a con man, which complicates things a little but also, we all know he's a good and smart guy and would eventually know the law well enough to skirt around it, so it's a start. Their marriage improves a lot too cus they're finally humble enough to talk to each other about real shit.

Uncle Naseem doesn't accept being gay fully till like, the last three episodes. Post retirement of course. Ramy finds some old love letters while helping him clean and move the rest of Naseem's shit from Jeweler's Row and just smiles and nods to himself, dropping aforementioned shit off at his apartment with nothing but a little extra bundle of cash; both as a way of saying "sorry about the bullshit" and "don't explain; I know." and it's cool. As a cherry on top, he might have even made up with that guy at the gym, or he might have found a new guy.

Shadi should meet up with Steve at some point and get into the DJ scene proper; it's hard for him when Farouk and Maysa have to move into a smaller apartment without him, but he finds a decent and diverse group of rave bros during a set one night and it saves him from having to spend the rest of his time in the U.S. on the street. He falls for a cute black hippie chick during one of his sets, and they move in together. It's a little small and cramped but he has her and her cat has already fallen in love with him so how can he have any more reserves? This is just where god wants him to be,

I can't speak for any of the minor characters, or the cousin that Ramy stopped fucking, but yeah. This is my take. If you wanna talk more, feel free to DM!

#asks #whendidthisbecomedifficult

[brettyimages]

Crushed Kid

Manchester Deaf Institute 6.9.22 - tour diary

I'm on my way to see ABBA Voyage and suddenly get a message from my Suede tour friends to keep the 5th and 6th free. Nobody knows why. Just keep those dates free.

Be in London on the 5th and/or Manchester on the 6th. Nobody knows why. Just be there. Brainstorm on the train home trying to figure out what I have on at work next week. Can I go to Manchester without having to take holiday. I get home and decide the answer is yes. Hotels and trains are procured.

I get out of the cinema and take my phone off airplane mode in the toilets. My phone has exploded with BABE HAVE YOU GOT A TICKET messages. I buy a ticket to see a band called Crushed Kid. My heart feels like it’s going to explode as I sit in the cubicle trying to remember my login details for a ticket site I haven’t used in years.

I bring forward my plans to dye my hair and make Suede-themed jewellery and finish embroidering Brett’s autograph onto my jacket. Everything is done by the end of the weekend.

Monday, I work an early shift so I can leave the office an hour early to travel to Preston. I can work from there, it’s only 35 minutes on the train to Manchester. I listen to four songs on repeat all the way - She Still Leads Me On, 15 Again, That Boy On The Stage, Shadow (of my former) Self. I spend the night unable to sleep in my crappy hotel room. I dream about Suede.

Tuesday morning, I get up early again and work another early shift so I can leave the office an hour early to travel to Manchester. I see photos and read reviews from London. It’s almost time. 

I arrive at Piccadilly station in my Metal Mickey t-shirt. I am powerwalking to the hotel so I can drop my things and speed to the venue. In the station, I walk past an elegant skinny character with long hair and black leather jacket. I smile at Neil Codling and wonder if he noticed me. 

I powerwalk from my hotel to the Piccadilly Gardens bus stops. I walk past a girl I was friends with a decade ago who I hoped never to see again. I’m going so fast that hopefully she didn’t have time to register me. The rain starts pouring as I approach the buses and I jump on the first one I see that is going my way. 

There are a couple of people outside the Deaf Institute and a lot more outside the Sandbar, the pub across the road. I say hi to the people at the door. I find my friends - we’re reunited for the first time since the Autofiction film shoot. 

Someone informs us that barriers have gone up outside the venue and we rush outside to join the queue. The rain starts again and we’re allowed inside to queue on the stairs. The toilets are wallpapered with Dolly Parton images and covered in graffiti. We’re all back together.

The doors open. The Deaf Institute auditorium is about the size of the living room in my parents’ house; there’s no barrier. My friend is pressed against the stage in front of Richard and I’m directly behind her, second row. The DJ plays 80s post-punk and I stare at Brett’s microphone stand five feet from me. 

Technicians tape down setlists, put out little bottles of water, check the guitars are ready. We wait (im)patiently for 8:30pm. 

Without stopping the music or dimming the lights, Simon, Richard, Mat and Neil saunter on stage. The crowd goes wild. Brett makes his own grand entrance. He’s wearing a white shirt. They launch into Autofiction. 

She Still Leads Me On live for real, not mimed for a music video. Brett’s voice amplified through a microphone that’s turned on and not just heard from beside me in the crowd, although the place is tiny enough that we’d have heard him without. 

Richard has four or five shirt buttons undone. Neil is dressed exactly as I saw him earlier. His hair is wavy at the front; he must have been caught in the rain too. 

Brett and I make eye contact for a second during one of the songs I haven’t heard yet. Personality Disorder, perhaps. I gaze up at him, reaching out for him. I can see my hand with its Portobello Road Market rings and homemade bracelets reaching for him in fan photos the next day. 

He kicks his bottle of water off the stage. It bounces off my friend’s face and lands on my chest. It stays between my feet for the rest of the set. Then in my bag for the rest of the night. Now it’s at home with me. After a couple of songs he complains to his technicians that they didn’t put enough water on stage for him. 

15 Again, That Boy On The Stage, some new songs I’ve not heard before. Drive Myself Home is the most beautiful piano ballad, like By The Sea if it didn’t swell up into a pop song. Brett sings tenderly but keeps walking over and pointing at the monitor we’re pressed into. His pointing and facial expressions become increasingly angry. The cable is loose and he can’t hear himself.

Brett is drenched in sweat and his white shirt is translucent. I can just about reach him when he steps towards us. I can see every fleck of spit that comes out of his mouth when he’s singing passionately. He has been sticking his tongue out since he stepped on stage.

Shadow Of My Former Self becomes Shadow Self. The chorus sounds strange at its correct pitch after listening to the edited version so many times. This time next month, it’ll be the edited version that sounds strange.

What Am I Without You is a ballad in the style of theatre - an ‘I’m Going Home’ or a ‘People’ made Suede. Brett says he wrote the song for us, the audience, and that he’s also an audience, and that we want the same thing, he doesn’t know what it is but he knows we all want it. 

Finally he steps close enough during the final song for me to put a hand on his thigh. The lady next to me ushers me into her spot so I can move it to his stomach, his ribs. He is soaking wet and his sweat coats my fingertips as I press my hand against his body. 

The album ends and the band leaves. Richard shakes hands with a couple of fans in front of me. The smile on his face is a mile wide. Same goes for everyone else in the room. 

We’ve filed out to the stage door, mingling. Justin Welch from Elastica is driving the van. I’ll never get to see Elastica live so it’s nice to spot him in this context.

Brett and Simon are mingling with everyone. Brett makes lighthearted conversation, asks if everyone is happy, offers to put his signature on setlists and t-shirts. We all huddle together for the customary group photo. He says he has a feeling it’s going to be a good picture. 

We’re back in the Sandbar until closing time. Catching up on what we’ve just seen. Staring at each other wide-eyed, lucky, increasingly sleepy. Groups begin to split up - off to the hotel vs into the night. There’s McDonalds and Ubers and 5 hours of broken sleep.

Wednesday, I work an early shift so I can leave an hour early to get home. I’m sleepy, but happy. The Brett group photo appears in the morning, along with lots of other photos and reviews. My friend posts some of my photos and Suede share them on their Instagram. 

I get to the train station and find that my train is delayed for an hour. I’ll miss the last bus home. I hop on another train that is due in on the same minute my bus leaves. The bus company slides into my DMs to promise they’ll delay the bus by a couple of minutes if I rush to catch it, and I make it home. There’s a ticket in my letterbox for next weekend’s Suede concert. 

#autofiction era #journal

[mywifeleftme]

138: Various Artists // Experiments in Destiny

Experiments in Destiny Various Artists 1980, BOMP!

BOMP! is a venerable Los Angeles-based indie label, founded in 1974 and would you believe still going to this day. Experiments in Destiny samples 28 bands either signed to or distributed by the label, and it’s a who’s who of “Who?” with a few starrier names scattered in. They specialized in New Wave, homages to ‘50s and ’60s rock, and springy power pop. I wrote this intro after deciding to do a track-by-track recap below, so uh, let’s get to it because there are too many words as it is.

Side One

Stiv Bators: First time hearing the solo work from the Dead Boys’ Stiv Bators, and it turns out he’s… Tom Petty-ish?

The Real Kids: Pitching this here with no real forethought, but you can divide power pop bands by whether or not their singers sound like their throat is dry. Boston’s The Real Kids are great, great dry-throated power pop, and probably one of the better-known acts here thanks to “All Kindsa Girls” showing up on a lot of compilations. They’d already broken up by 1980, so we get an unreleased demo that probably wasn’t easy to find elsewhere at the time.

The Dadistics: Somewhere between the Slits and Rough Trade, a little Pat Benatar in the vox—puts me in the mind of the similarly cool and obscure Mo-Dettes. The first third of the song is a no wavey fakeout, then it goes into a kinda Feeliesy riff. Extremely cool! And vocalist Audrey Stanzler went on to be part of the original lineup of… Ministry?!

Blake Xolton & The Martians: Tasting notes: Maybe Magazine at their most electronically disassociated? Blake Xolton was a producer with a very sparse discography, who may also have been part of the phony International Society of Poets who set up the controversial Poetry.com, a “poetry shearing site” per Wikipedia.

Jimmy Lewis & The Checkers: Pubby cover of the Aretha Franklin chestnut “Think.” Probably a little too close to Huey Lewis & the News for my taste.

The Nuns: Blondie-esque New Wave, with some very cool guitar and backing vocal effects that make it sound like the action is taking place in a futuristic resurrection chamber.

Gary Charlson: A smooth Kansas City pop rocker—his vocals strongly remind me of some minor prince of '70s classic rock radio, but all I'm coming up with is the guy from .38 Special, and I know that's not it. His sole EP covers a number of the titans of power pop (e.g. the expected Raspberries, Byrds, and Badfinger, the at the time obscure Big Star, the eternally head’s only Crabby Appleton and Vance or Towers), but he somehow never ended up cutting an LP despite a very radio-ready sound. Self-produced wonder? Nice bit o' Middle American flavour to it.

Side Two

Rodney & The Brunettes: Cutesy one-off cover of the surf rock classic by LA DJ Rodney Bingenheimer, who gives a respectable effort.

The "B" Girls: Toronto girl group who might've been able to get some of that Go-Go's money with a little polishing. Good harmonies, lead singer had a nice voice on her.

The MnM's: Excellent shake and pop, written by Paul Collins of the Nerves and the (American) Beat, and featuring the latter band's Steve Huff on bass. Vocalist Marci Marks is the kind of diminutive punk girl I’d probably have been crazy for at the time.

Paul Collins: Speaking of Collins, this is a second reminder in a row that I really need to get around to listening to his post-Nerves material, because this is a great sub-two minute blast of punkified Merseybeat.

Nikki & the Corvettes: Three-piece girl group from Detroit that sound strikingly like Tweens, a 2010s pop punk fav of mine. I'm addicted to this particular kind of snotty/bratty femme vocal, love how much room the single guitar gives to hear the bassist noodling around. Somehow I think this is the first time I’m hearing these guys.

Kathy & the Lawnmowers: After five straight '60s revival songs, we take an abrupt detour into Devo world. Kathy & the Lawnmowers were produced by the notorious Kim Fowley, who provides a blurb in the liners explaining that the mysterious bandmembers arrived at a session wearing masks having never met before, cut some tracks, then removed their masks, didn't like the looks of one-another and split for good. That's obviously baloney, but I prefer it to the version where Fowley did something terrible to them, which would not be uncharacteristic. They’re also credited as Jukebox Rebel Queens on the back cover? Anyway, fun trash sci-fi ramble about green children.

Side Three

The Sonics: "Up (to) the Junction"—sadly not a Squeeze cover, but pretty fetching stuff from the legends nonetheless. The bluesy rocking side of the Sonics (as opposed to the frothing proto-punk side), nice biting guitar tone.

The Weirdos: Per the liners, allegedly LA's first punk band, a claim I can't dispute because I continue to not know much of anything about LA punk, this is fun rockabilly style fair, like a less stylish Cramps. Good stomping beat.

The Zantees: A Gene Vincent cover in a Stray Cats vein, with a guitar player who can really go in that zippy old school Scotty Moore style.

Jon & the Nightriders: A surf rock instrumental cover—I wondered if "Super Jet Rumble" might've been by the Jet-Tones (of "Jet Tone Boogie" 'fame'), but no, seems to be a tune by The Breakers. Anyway, this sounds like every surf rock song, which is to say it rules but not in a way you'll necessarily remember.

The Lipstick Killers: High energy Australian garage rock that the band apparently called "straight edge music"; presumably Ian MacKaye had to go down to the Yabba and win a few rounds of the game from Wake in Fright to win the rights to that term. While we're at it, the song's called "Hindu Gods (of Love)"—Warren Zevon and R.E.M., you've got some explaining to do! Presumably on the B-side of the original single they also coined the term 'hyphy' and invented Lou Barlow.

The Hypstrz: A Minneapolis band with a legendary live reputation, but I can't really fuck with bands whose main gimmick is garaged up versions of old R&B sides. They probably absolutely crushed it live, but this version of "In the Midnight Hour" just kinda exists for me.

The Last: Clearly a last-minute (not a pun, fuck you) addition as it's not listed on the back of the sleeve or in the liners, the Last's "She Don't Know Why I'm Here" is a slashing piece of Anglophile psych-pop and one of the best things on this entire comp. It stuffs a remarkable number of twists and turns, false finishes, and secondary riffs into its three-and-a-half-minute runtime. The Last have a small cult following for their run of singles and debut LP LA Explosion! My only regret is that they didn't include the original single version of this one, as it elevates a groovy jam into a thrashing raveup.

The Dead Boys: Stiv Bators' second appearance on the comp; the Dead Boys were an almighty force in their day, but there's something kinda funny to me about ol' sloppy Stiv being the centrepiece of any label's roster. A good-enough take on "3rd Generation Nation" from their live LP Night of the Living Dead Boys—RateYourMusic reviewer mofoking shares some interesting backstory on how that LP came to be distributed by Bomp! and why nearly all of Stiv's vocals had to be overdubbed.

Side Four

The Crawdaddys: Perfectly competent Velvets cover, though the vox sneer their way past Lou into a Dylan impression.

The Martians: Previously appearing on this comp backing up "Blake Xolton" on a weirdo New Wave Christmas song, their own sound is traditional Merseybeat stuff. This isn't a classic, but it's a damned fine pastiche. Apparently they were a pair of record producers who joined together for this project, sharing lead vocal duties and playing all of the instruments themselves. No wonder it sounds great.

Pete Holly & the Looks: Heavy New Wave from Boise, Idaho, sporting a hilarious watery vocal filter and waka-waka guitar riffing. The chorus conceit is goofy ("Look out! Below!") but the Boiseans acquit themselves well. Somebody had to hold down the fort between Paul Revere & the Raiders and Built to Spill, so my thanks to Pete Holly.

The Wombats: Not the ’60s Wombats from Illinois or the ‘90s Wombats from also Illinois or the ‘00s Wombats from Liverpool, but rather a fourth Wombats from Cleveland, presumably the marsupial capital of the Lower Midwest. This (“Utter Frustration”) is sloppy and great and went by very quickly while I was trying to research whether Ohio's indeed part of the Lower Midwest, so I had to listen to it again.

Rainbow Red Oxidizer: A former sideman for the Seeds' Sky Saxton (presumably around the time he was fucking around with the Source Family), Rainbow Neal is accompanied by members of Focus, Spirit, Captain Beefheart's Magic Band, and even Mars Bonfire from Steppenwolf. I've got like six tabs open trying to figure out what this guy's deal is--love when a compilation sends me down a research hole like this. I'm sampling the Oxidizer LP now, and despite its New Wave window dressing, it's viciously sarcastic garage rock with the occasional jangly gem—if anything Rainbow's voice reminds me of Wire's Colin Newman. What a great song "When You Walk in the Room" is!

Cheek: Okay, these guys are Australian, covering an old Easybeats song, and are even produced by Vanda & Young, who give them something like a vintage AC/DC production sound, though these guys are considerably poppier than Angus and company. Vocalist does have a faint Bon Scott keen to his voice at times though.

The Romantics: Detroiters best known for "What I Like About You" (one of those songs I have heard ten thousand songs and never questioned the provenance of) turn in a rarity in "Running Away," a slab of pristine midwestern power pop that was apparently intended to be issued as a single with BOMP! but ended up seeing its first release here. They'd lose the Romantics to the Atlantic-distributed Nemperor Records right before they blew the fuck up, which has gotta be a label owner's nightmare.

Well, that took goddamn forever. If you’re still around, the tracks I most recommend fishing out are the Real Kids, Dadistics, “B” Girls, MnMs, Paul Collins, Nikki & the Corvettes, Last, Martians, Wombats, and Rainbow Red Oxidizer tunes. Not a bad haul!

138/365

#bomp! #garage rock #punk #'70s punk #new wave #'80s music #'70s music #music review #vinyl record #the romantics #the dead boys #the nerves #paul collins #cheek #rainbow red oxidizer #stiv bators #the real kids #the dadistics #blake xolton #the martians #nikki and the corvettes #the b-girls #the last #the nuns #jimmy lewis #gary charlson #the sonics #the zantees #the weirdos #lipstick killers

[tokyorecordstyle]

1/9 The artists that compel me the most are the ones who, themselves, are compelled to create. It’s often the compulsion that is more interesting and admirable to me than whatever art they create. My favorite artist John Baldessari said great art cannot be willed into creation, the artist must be possessed to make it. All the time, I so badly WISH that I was possessed to create, that I couldn’t help but make art, a need to create like a need to breathe, like my photographer friend John Sypal, whose project @tokyocamerastyle inspired this one, seems to be possessed photography, like it’s second nature to him, his way of life, and same so many other artist friends that I’m fortunate to know. They create because they must. Conversely, and maybe contrary to an image I maybe project image, it’s not exactly a natural act to me, visually creating. I love it indeed, but it comes and goes like the wind blowing through open car road-trip windows. Sometimes I catch it and sometimes, it just passes right through. Having said all that, I recognize that I do feel a compulsion to write, to tell stories, to flex my literary noodle every day, to start with a blank sheet of paper and see where a thought can take me - How should I start? What interludes will present themselves? Where will I end up? I DO feel compelled to write. That’s been one of the really fun aspects of Tokyo Record Style. …which is AGAIN, ironic for the 2nd post in a row, because my subject here, friend and fellow DJ Takeshi Shimizu (@subtr4649 ) wrote a perfectly-formed interview (templatetizable, taboot), replete with formatted questions and insightful answers, and simply too good to not post as-is, robbing me of my own chance to write about him, to tell my own story of him, his damn initiative foiling my ability to tell a tale! Curse you Shimizu, and your damn thoroughness and thoughtfulness, and well …compulsion. Continued in Comments. #Tokyo #record #style #tokyorecordstyle #records #music #recordcollector #recordstore #vinyl #vinylcollector #vinylrecords #vinylrecord #Jazz #Latin #Folk #World #Country #Fusion (at Shimo-Kitazawa , Tokyo) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoR_JdwPPTD/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#tokyo #record #style #tokyorecordstyle #records #music #recordcollector #recordstore #vinyl #vinylcollector #vinylrecords #vinylrecord #jazz #latin #folk #world #country #fusion

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet

The day has finally come.

All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.

It’s time for the Red Banquet.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Captain Puffy

Badboyhalo

Antfrost

Eret

Skeppy

Ranboo

---

- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.

- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.

- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting. 

- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.

- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks. 

- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.

Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”

Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”

Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”

Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”

Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”

Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”

Ponk: “Yeah...”

- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing

HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”

...

Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”

Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”

- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching. 

- HBomb is the DJ.

- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.

- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.

First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.

Next is Eret. 

Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”

Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.

Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful. 

George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.

Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done. 

- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.

Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”

- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.

Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”

- Everyone panics. 

- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.

- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.

- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.

- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.

- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.

Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”

Eret: “You’re a monster.”

Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”

Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”

Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”

Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”

- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.

- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?

- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.

Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”

- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.

- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.

Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”

Puffy: “I’m only one person!”

Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”

Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”

- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.

---

CANON DEATH: FOOLISH

Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg

---

- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.

- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.

- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.

Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”

- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.

- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs. 

Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”

Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”

- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.

- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.

Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”

Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”

- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.

- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.

Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”

---

CANON DEATH: ANTFROST

Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe

---

- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.

- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.

- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.

Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”

“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”

“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”

- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.

- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.

- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.

- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.

- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.

- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.

Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”

- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.

Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”

“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”

- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress. 

RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.

- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.

- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.

- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.

- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.

Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”

- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever. 

- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.

- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items. 

- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.

- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.

- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.

- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.

- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.

- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.

- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important. 

- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?

- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises. 

- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)

- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.

- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.

- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.

- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.

- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.

- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Tommy’s plan

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- The Banquet aftermath

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/19 - Nothing much happens.

4/20 - Nothing much happens.

4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business

4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons

4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”

4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations

4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts #the red banquet

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Round Two: Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Falling in love isn't the name of the game, but it is in the playbook.

wc: 1.2k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

🏀All-Stars Masterlist🏀

Keizo never believed in "love at first sight".

For a man like him, "love" was a luxury that he couldn't afford, although he made enough money to buy the ghost of it every day of the year.

The fans didn't "love" him; they were entertained by him.

His teammates don't "love" him; they're grateful that he does his job well.

His family doesn't "love" him; they're glad his career brings money and fame to the Arashi name.

Love doesn't exist, not for him.

So Keizo supposes it's an intense lust that overcomes him when he sees you practicing with the other cheerleaders on the court before the game. He supposes it's his desire to feel less lonely that drives his eyes to roll up and down your frame as you swing your hips in your tracksuit. He knows that when you flip your hair, it isn't for him - and he ignores the part of himself that wishes it was.

"Hey, man," his teammate - Takeomi Akashi - mutters while slapping him on the back. "Drool over Ms. New Booty another time. We've got a game to practice for. She's probably taken by the other team's players anyways - you know how they are."

By they, Keizo wants to ask, does he mean "the cheerleaders"? Or does he mean the other team? But the thought is quickly cast aside as he goes into the separate practice gym, his mind on the game ahead.

When he jogs out to the sound of booing - this is usually the case for away games - he sees you ruffling your poms and smiling with pink lipstick spread perfectly across your plush lips. And for a second, that feeling returns. That feeling of his chest aching and heart cracking open, almost as if he's having a heart attack. But when he looks away from you, the feeling disappears.

It's nothing, right?

Halftime fares him no better - they're down by two points - and he can't help but stare at the TV in the locker room while you perform the routine you'd worked hard on. Every time the camera focuses on you, he feels it again. And again. And again.

"Think I need to be benched," he grumbles to Shinichiro Sano, whose eyes widen.

"Are you alright?"

"My chest hurts. It's like... tight."

"Tighter than your pants?" Wakasa wonders, laughing as Keizo looks down at the obvious indention of his arousal. Shinichiro joins in the fun as if they were middle schoolers, then sighs softly.

"Keizo," Takeomi pipes in, his eyes narrowing. "Don't miss a shot because of that girl."

"What girl?" Shinichiro and Waka ask at the same time, but Keizo just runs his hand over his cornrows, sighing.

"Did you see the cheerleader in the middle row with the pink lipstick?" Takeomi asks.

''The one with the curves?" Waka chimes in, waving his hands around in the air to demonstrate. Shinichiro cackles.

"Okay, okay," Keizo mutters, trying not to get upset. "Just drop it."

"I'll drop it when you stop trying to sneak a peek at her while we're running a play."

"You should send her some flowers," Shinichiro offers, nudging Keizo with his elbow. "Couldn't hurt, right?"

"Yeah..."

_____________________________________________________________

The orchid arrangement on your changing room table is the only one in the room.

"Who's it from?" The captain wonders, watching you peel the note off the vase.

"It just says 'loved your performance' from #21."

"We don't have a 21 on the team," the vice-captain grumbles, and you look over at her curiously. "But there was one last night." You remember the face and the number very well. His grey eyes were on you all night, and he narrowly missed the ball a few times because of it.

"On the opposing team..." You touch the petals thoughtfully, then look up at the other girls gathered around. "I'll think about it."

You didn't have to think about it for long.

After your post-practice shower and nightly routine, you climb into bed and open your phone. Your fingers type 'number 21 dragons'. A name and a face pop up that match the man you saw last night, and for a second, your heart skips a beat.

"Keizo Arashi," you say aloud, liking how his name sounds in your mouth. A moanable name. The various social media profiles detail his career with the Dragons, but you settle for looking at his Flickstagram. Among the various promotional pictures, you see him in his car - a Mercedez-Benz G 63, of course - doing philanthropic work, and thirst trapping, just a little. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't make you grin a bit.

Got the flowers you sent me. Thanks.

You type the message, send it, and set your phone down on your dresser, expecting him (or his PR team) to reply a day or so later. But your phone pings almost instantly, and you turn to look at it, expecting to see something other than a reply to your message.

You liked them; that's good.

You're not sure what you should reply, but three dots pop up again, indicating that he was still typing.

We should FaceTime. Here's my number.

You hesitate, but then click on the number and select the FaceTime option. The phone says "calling", then "connecting", and then you see Keizo's face on your phone screen.

"Hey," he breathes, and you smile back at him.

"Hey..." There's a moment of awkward silence, but then Keizo squints at the screen.

"Are you in bed?" You laugh, then nod, still giggling when he laughs.

"Where are you?" you wonder.

"In my bed!"

_____________________________________________________________

You stumble into the hotel room, laughing and giggling as your fingers search for the light switch. Keizo is out of breath behind you, also laughing when he staggers into the room.

"You couldn't run fast enough," you gasp, clutching at your sides. "Told you you'd lose." You've barely taken a step toward the bed when you feel Keizo wrap you up in a hug from behind, his lips pressing against your neck.

"Love you," he murmurs into your skin, and you hum thoughtfully, holding the arm that's slung around your waist.

"Show me, don't tell me."

Show me.

Keizo's hips rut into yours as you're standing across from the mirror, his breath warm on your skin and hands holding your breasts.

Show me.

His groans of passion make your stomach quake, and your body responds to him and his touch with little hesitation. "Want you all to myself," Keizo moans into your ear, his cock stroking your g-spot just right.

"Then show me." Your hands slide up to his head, cradling both cheeks between your palms.

"I'll show you," he breathes. "Every day, I'll show you."

You're brought to the peak of your orgasm before he even begins to feel his own. But the feeling isn't delayed long, and his toes curl with pleasure as he cums inside of you. Round one is only the beginning, you note mentally, waiting for his cue so you can turn onto your stomach, ass-up, and get the round two you deserve.

"Tell me you love me," Keizo murmurs, turning you onto your stomach with his massive hands.

"I love you. And I mean it." Keizo chuckles deeply, spreading your ass cheeks apart and sliding inside of you, fully hard again.

"I believe you, baby. I believe you."

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #arashi keizo #keizo arashi x reader #benkei x reader #tokyo revengers smut #keizo arashi smut #benkei smut #Spotify

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Float Like A Butterfly... Chapter 5: So Last Season

Summary: Now that Adrien is no longer Chat Noir he doesn't have to get hit all the time. Unfortunately, his luck doesn't seem to have gotten the memo... Or has it?

------------------------------

"So, how're you holding up?"

"Please, Adrien, it's my mother! I'm positively ecstatic!"

"Exactly. It's your mother."

Chloe looked down for a second before her eyes snapped back up, any doubts she had hidden in an instant. "She's finally coming back! I'll finally be able to show her what she's been missing." Chloe tossed her ponytail back to emphasize the unspoken Me. "Now, I've gotta go. Sabrina insisted we do an 'emotional support routine' or whatever beforehand. Ciao!"

Sighing, Adrien stared at his phone for a moment before putting it down. He knew Chloe was grateful for Sabrina's help but it was still a struggle getting her to admit it.

Or getting her to admit how much Audrey had hurt her.

It was one thing to travel halfway around the world for your career and leave your daughter behind. It was something else entirely to completely ignore her. In all the years since Audrey left Chloe hadn't received a single birthday gift, phone call or text message. Adrien would know. Chloe would've bragged about it endlessly if her mother had taken so much as two seconds to acknowledged her existence-

Adrien's foot jerked, striking the vanity table and making the connected mirror tremble. Heart suddenly pounding against his chest as tension built up in his forehead. Distressed expression reflecting back at him.

Breathe, Adrien. Breathe.

Slowly, he inhaled.

Then exhaled.

Again.

Good.

He was okay.

Adrien was okay.

Guilt pricked like a thorn for thinking of his own problems when Chloe needed him. Adrien crushed it with his anger and annoyance but it was still there. Like a splinter that wouldn't come out.

I hate you.

Swiping out of the video chat Adrien tapped on Nino's number. It rang... and rang... and rang...

He's annoyed with me. I did something wrong again and Nino doesn't want to-

Adrien smacked both sides of his face. No, dummy! Nino's just busy or something. Stop that!

It wasn't every day a teenage DJ provided the music for Paris Fashion Week, after all. Nino had to make sure all his equipment was working properly.

The door to his dressing room burst open.

"Adrien, your friend Mlle. Dupain-Cheng will be bringing the last article of the new Gabriel line," Nathalie announced. "Your father expects everything to be perfect for Audrey Bourgeois."

"Doesn't he always?" Adrien deadpanned.

Nathalie stared at his watery eyes before typing something into her tablet. "Your performance on catwalks only has a 99% success rate. He expects you'll do better."

Father thinks you're a failure just like everyone else. He-

Shut up! Adrien felt something heavy settle in his chest.

One of the makeup artists came rushing in and Nathalie gestured her towards Adrien. "Touch up his eyes," she instructed and then left.

Jaw clenching, Adrien sat perfectly still as the makeup artist did her job. He was never entirely sure what the staff thought about him. 'Professional' was a word that was tossed around a lot. That used to fill him with a little pride... Before all of this.

The last person to suggest that a thirteen year old mourning his mother wasn't 'professional' so much as he was 'depressed' had never come back to work... Oh. Adrien had forgotten about that.

Finishing quickly, the makeup artist left too. Leaving Adrien with his thoughts. He didn't want to be with his thoughts at the moment. They were distracting and Nathalie had not been subtle.

I hate-

His phone vibrated as it received someone's text.

Ni-Non: hey dude!

Ni-Non: it's crazy over here man

Ni-Non: break a leg! ;)

Adrien smiled as his unpleasant mood faded to the back of his mind... And if he saw similarities between his family and Chloe's, well, that's why he could empathize with her.

Adrien: That's theater but I guess there's not much difference.

Adrien: Thanks. ^_^

 ---------------

There was a knock at his door. Adrien stopped fidgeting in the awkward suit to go answer it.

"Hello, Marinette." Adrien smiled in greeting.

"Oh, uh, hello!" Marinette gave a small wave as she stepped up the short stairs and-

Adrien braced himself with one foot while his hands went to her shoulders. Steadying Marinette as she quickly removed her weight from him.

"Oh! Uh, sorry." Marinette looked away in embarrassment at having tripped into him.

"... No worries!" Adrien smiled as he shook his head. Marinette seemed... subdued. Reaching down to pick up the hat that had fallen. "Oh, no." The artificial feather Marinette made for his allergies had come loose. "I hope it's not too hard to fix it."

Marinette looked down. "Uh, y'know, it doesn't really matter. This hat is a complete failure anyway."

"What? No, it's not!" Adrien rose to his feet quickly in shock. "Why would you say that?"

"Because... the queen of fashion, Audrey Bourgeois, saw it and hated it!" Marinette's hands covered her face, voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Adrien. I really messed up. I'm a total no talent!" Her arms wrapped around herself in a hug. "Please, don't put it on," she pleaded.

Adrien's heart went out to Marinette as she laid her insecurities bare. "Marinette, everything's going to be fine." He searched for the proper spot to reattach the feather,  fiddling with it as Adrien reassured her. "Your hat looks great. I think it's awesome and so does... my father." Adrien cleared his throat as he managed to fix her hat. "Otherwise he wouldn't have picked it for me. Look!"

Putting Marinette's hat on Adrien walked across the dressing room like he was already performing. Striking a few poses to ease Marinette's anxiety. "See?"

It seemed to work as Marinette gave a small smile. "You got that catwalk down," she complimented.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. "Really? Thank you."

"Ah-hem," Nathalie cleared her throat. "We have to go." Without waiting for Marinette she turned on her heel and started walking towards the viewing area.

Adrien rolled his eyes but smiled at Marinette's back as she hurried to catch up. Turning back to look at himself in the mirror Adrien scanned his outfit. The suit may have been generic and a few seams too close to last year's entry but Marinette's hat was fire.

"Okay!" Adrien was gonna go out there and make sure they recognized Marinette's talent!

---------------

Holding Marinette's hat to his chest Adrien stuck his head out in a decidedly 'unprofessional' manner. Spotting Marinette's family and a bunch of his friends in the first row. Adrien's blond head caught Nino's eye from across the catwalk and he gave him a thumbs up.

Adrien waved as he ducked back behind the corner before the photographers could take any pictures of the Agreste heir acting like a kid.

You got this, Adrien. Nino's DJ-ing, your classmates came -even though most of them don't care about fashion- with any luck Alix and Kim will tease you about it for the next month.

That would give Adrien the opportunity to dish out a bunch of jokes he never got the chance to use!

The music started; that was his cue.

You got this!

Adrien posed on the runway. Camera flashes already starting. Strutting down the catwalk Adrien smirked at Marinette. See? Stopping at the platform's end he posed in various angles for the photographers. Nino seemed to be enjoying himself too and that made Adrien's smile come much more naturally.

A small eruption boomed behind him and Adrien turned to see Hawkmoth's latest fashion disaster. Gasping, as his heart started hammering in his chest.

"A fashion show without the Queen of Style!? Glitter-ally unacceptable!" The akuma villain announced. "Where's that ungrateful Gabriel Agreste. I demand that he kneels before me!"

Ugh, what has he done now?

"My father isn't here," Adrien snapped in annoyance. Hearing people running for the exits.

"Well, then. If fashion disaster daddy isn't here I'll just have to settle for Agreste Junior! You're fired!"

Adrien's eyes widened as he stepped back. Golden glitter exploding everywhere as his body became numb and his senses dark-

-Glowing ladybugs swirled around him as Adrien had the disorienting feeling of laying  down when he could've sworn he'd been standing. Glancing around, Adrien realized he was now at the Eiffel Tower.

"Adrik- Adrien!" Chloe tackled him as he stood, throwing her arms around him. "I was so scared!"

Adrien blinked in surprise as Chloe set her head on his shoulder. Not letting him go... Adrien smiled as he hugged her back. Enjoying this genuine display of affection.

"Pound it!"

Head snapping towards the sound Adrien saw another Black Cat, this one a girl with long, reddish hair, fist bump Ladybug. They grinned at each other in post battle relief.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

A chill to rival Frozer's ice covered Adrien from head to toe. It was one thing to see Ladybug working with a different Black Cat on the news. Quite another to have his replacement. Three. Frickin. Meters. In front of him!

Chloe didn't notice... Or rather Adrien didn't notice when she'd let go to help her mother. Who tried to fire her own daughter as thanks.

Adrien jerked his eyes away from the superhero duo-

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

-Away from the Miraculous holders and forced himself to listen to whatever the Bourgeois were saying. Ears ringing as Ladybug and the Black Cat talked about something behind him...

"Oh, mom. If only you knew what a great team we made!" Chloe trailed after her mother as they walked down the tower's stairs; attempting to capture her attention. "We fired a bunch of incompetents. It was awesome. We should really spend more time together! What if I went back to New York with you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Casserole- Eh, Chloe!" Audrey dismissed. "First I have to get back to Gabriel Agreste's fashion show. And they better..."

Adrien's eyes narrowed as he looked down from the railing, his grip on it tightening. Heat from a growing indignation melting the ice he felt. What did she just call Chloe?

"Adrien Agreste, right? I can give you a lift back if you want."

His tensed body jerked in surprise as Adrien realized Ladybug was standing right behind him. Throat and chest constricting as his thoughts whirled. Spots darkened his vision as he felt lightheaded. Adrien's knuckles becoming white, the metal railing digging into his skin. A single thought rose above the ringing in his ears.

I don't wanna talk to her.

Giving his best model smile, Adrien schooled his features. "Ah, thanks but-" he pointed down, "-I should really check on them."

"O-oh! Of course!"

Ladybug's face was out of focus but Adrien could still feel the melancholy in her voice.

Powering past his queasy stomach Adrien made his way to the stairs. The sound of Ladybug's yo-yo whirring reached his ears; signaling her departure. Adrien took a shuddering gasp as he leaned against a metal pillar for support. Body suddenly limp.

Breath accelerating Adrien tried to calm himself. Why was he up here? Had- Had Audrey's blast mind controlled him? Again!? He couldn't breathe.

Adrien sank to his knees as he felt his skin crawl at the idea of that- that- asshole reaching into his mind and taking away his free will. He hated it! He HATED it!

Gasping as his rage broke him out of the panic, Adrien steadied his breathing... He wanted- no, needed to know what happened... Which meant getting up and moving forward... Forcing himself to his feet Adrien wiped the sweat from his brow and followed the others down.

---------------

"Remind me to tell your father to fire the person in charge of the Eiffel Tower elevators..." Audrie panted. "This is... unacceptable... utterly unacceptable!"

"Of course, mom. Oh!" Chloe glanced down to see what she'd stumbled on.

Adrien looked up as he fanned himself with Marinette's hat.

And dropped it.

He stared open mouthed at the small, black, octagonal box in Chloe's hands. Heartbeat leaping into his throat.

What the hell is THAT doing here!?

"Ooh! What's this?" Chloe turned the box around in her hands but didn't open it.

Adrien suddenly forgot his exhaustion and rushed to her side. The lie coming easily to his lips. "Oh, I recognize that! They sell them at antique shops."

"Ew, it's old! Get it away from me!" Chloe practically hurled it at Adrien.

Catching it easily. A thrill ran up Adrien's arms and down his spine as the box made contact with his skin. The hairs at the back of his neck standing on end.

Chloe dusted her hands and kept walking. Glancing nervously at her mother. Hoping Audrey hadn't seen her with something so outdated.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! The voice in his head said.

Shut up, Adrien told it as he stared at the unknown Miraculous in his hand. Heartbeat hammering in his chest. But it wasn't from fear. No, it was... anticipation.

The corners of Adrien's lips curled upwards.

------------------------------

Notes: Oh, would you look at that. I'm back! It only took... eight months!

#style queen #ml au #adrien angst #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #audrey bourgeois #ml fanfic #ml angst #canon divergent au #canon divergence

[myladyprincessbugaboo]

The School Festival

Summary: When Marinette posts a flyer for the school festival, Lila brings up her sudden trip to Achu the day before and is just heartbroken that she can't attend.And when the class turns on Marinette, demanding her to reschedule the festival so Lila will be able to attend, well, for once, she won't be alone.

Read on AO3

Check out the other works in this series.

prompt:  Lila starts lying about trips and such when Marinette starts discussing plans for a school wide festival to make Mari look bad and inconvenience her. The class gives Lila sympathy and demands Mari reschedule the whole thing despite Marinette saying she can't but they wont have it. Exasperated Marinette tells the other class presidents and student councils this and needless to say they're outraged "Why should we reschedule a school wide event for ONE person?!" The aftermath is up to you

                                                      -x-

Marinette hummed to herself as she hung up the last flyer on the school bulletin board.

The school's student council, consisting off all the class presidents, class deputies, and some faculty, had decided to have a school-wide festival to help boost kids spirits. They'd spent months planning this thing, having fundraiser's to be able to pay for it. They'd finally saved up enough where they could purchase all the snacks and drinks and pay for a DJ, and fun little games and prizes.

It had all been planned to a T.

Except for one little detail.

"What's this?" Lila asked, lips pursed, as she and their classmates examined the flyer.

Marinette frowned. "We're having a school-wide festival next Tuesday, and-"

"Next Tuesday? That's disappointing." Lila said sadly, holding a hand to her heart. "I'm going to Achu on Monday, and I won't be back until the following week." She sniffed, holding back tears. "I know you don't like me Marinette," she said, "but planning something, knowing I can't attend? I just want to be friends."

"Oh, Lila." Alya said, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "I'm sure Marinette didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Maybe she didn't know about your trip. I'm sure she can reschedule it for the following week."

Alya glared a Marinette. She was giving that girl an out, and she better take it.

"But I can't." Marinette said, frown still in place. "That's not fair. We spent weeks-"

"Yeah, right." Alya said, rolling her eyes, arm wrapped comfortingly around Lila, who was quietly 'crying' into her shoulder. "You just don't want Lila to attend. You're going to reschedule it."

She didn't leave any room for argument as she, and the rest of her classmates, left, probably heading back to the class room.

Marinette pulled out her phone, sending a quick text, before pocketing it and heading to class.

                                                         -x-

Class was no better. Everyone was once again ganging up on her the second she entered the classroom, not even bothering to let her grab her seat.

"You've thought about what you said, haven't you?" Alya said, arms crossed, as she glared at her former best friend. "You're going to reschedule the entire festival, so that poor Lila isn't excluded?"

She could feel Lila's smirk without even having to see it.

But seriously. Did she not even hear herself? Reschedule the entire thing! For only one person!? Did they even read the flyer? It clearly said it was planned by the student council, not just Marinette! She couldn't reschedule it even if she wanted to! (Not that she does. Especially not for Lila.)

"Alya, I told you, I can't just-"

"Of course you can!" She said, throwing her arms up in the air in exaggeration.

Ms. Bustier walked in then, or rather tried to, as the class had been cornering Marinette in the doorway. They all moved out of the way though, so she could enter the classroom, and sit at her desk. "What's going on here?" She asked.

Alya immediately piped up, sending Marinette a smirk. "Marinette's throwing a festival on a day where she knows Lila won't be able to make it. And she refuses to reschedule everything."

Marinette groaned. "Alya, I told you I-"

"Marinette," Ms. Bustier said gently. "why don't you just reschedule it? I'm sure everyone will forgive you. You shouldn't exclude Lila."

Marinette couldn't even believe what she was hearing. She just shook her head, and pushed through her classmates to her seat in the back row. She sat down, placing her bag on her desk.

She pointed at the clock. "Shouldn't we start class? It started 5 minutes ago."

Ms.  Bustier hesitated, before nodding. "She's right. Everyone to their seats, please. Take out your textbooks."

                                                         -x-

"They what!?" Aurore shouted, after Marinette had recounted the details of her day. "They seriously expect you to reschedule the entire festival for one person?!"

"I know." Marinette said with a roll of her eyes. "I don't think they even realized it's not my decision. And I'm pretty sure none of you want to reschedule, right?" She saw everyone shake their heads in agreement. "Exactly. Even Ms. Bustier thought I should reschedule it! She knows the student council is planning it, not just me. She's supposed to be setting an example for her students!"

Aurore rolled her eyes. "Well, she is setting one. Just the wrong one. Now, back to the task at hand. What are we going to do?"

"I think I have just the plan."

                                                       -x-

"Marinette!" Alya exclaimed, angrily marching over to her. "We told you to reschedule it since Lila's in Achu! How could you do this!?" The rest of their classmates quietly voiced their agreement to Alya's statement.

"I told you." Marinette said, exasperatedly. "It wasn't my decision. It was the student council's decision and they refused to reschedule the entire event for one person."

"You never told me that." She retorted.

"Yeah, because you cut me off. Every. Single. Time. Did you even read the flyer? It clearly said so. Why don't you call Lila. Put it on video chat. I'm sure she'd love to see what she's missing. I even set up a little surprise for her."

Alya looked a little concerned at the twinkle in Marinette's eye, but called Lila nonetheless. It wasn't like Marinette would bully her in front of so many witnesses, right? And Alya would be holding the phone the entire time.

"Hey, girl!" Alya said, a smile forming as she waved. "I wanted to show you the festival so it'll almost be like you're here with us. She slowly moved the camera so Lila could take in everything.

"Aw, you're so sweet!" She said, with a smile.

Marinette motioned with her hand for them to all follow her... To a big stage set up in the center of the festival.

"Hello, Paris!" Jagged Stone screamed.

Everyone started cheering in response.

"I was invited to put on a show for you all! But first I wanted to put an end to some rumors I've heard floating around, about some girl. Lula? Layla? Something about a cat? I would never own a cat. I'm allergic, and they're not very rock n' roll! Also, something about me writing a song for her? Which couldn't possibly be true. I would never write a song about a minor, that's not very rock n' roll either. Now that that's out of the way, who's ready to rock!?"

The crowd was screaming in excitement, as he started to sing one of his most popular hits.

Well, most of the crowd.

The students from Ms. Bustier's class were standing there frozen.

Alya didn't even notice when Lila hung up the call.

The only thoughts running through their heads was that Lila was a liar, and that Marinette... Was innocent. If Lila had lied about that, she'd probably lied about everything!

And they'd all believed her.

Alya slowly turned to where Marinette was standing.

She'd warned them constantly, continuously, and stuck her neck out for them after they'd bullied her and exiled and ignored her.

She really was their 'Everyday Ladybug'.

And she was going to do everything in her power to earn back her trust and friendship, no matter how long in took.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #alya salt #lila rossi #lila gets exposed #marinette deserves better #jagged stone #ml salt #classmates #my writing

[chalametdarling]

T.C. fluff:  Being Timothée’s co-star in an upcoming romantic drama, and having a long weekend off together to explore the coastal European city you’re filming in

“Wow, this is beautiful.” You hugged your rolled-up towel close to your chest, the view of a crowded beach, sparkling crystal blue water and colourful umbrellas lining the sand awaiting you. 

“Oui, c’est très beau,” Timothee agreed, playfully nudging your shoulder, guiding you to follow him down onto the sand. You slipped off your shoes and the two of you began meandering through the endless sea of warm sand and towels, eventually finding vacant real estate between a young family and a group of women bathing in the sun. It was Timothee’s idea to explore the French town you were filming in together while you had a few days off, and as you laid down your towel, and Timothee retrieved containers of strawberries and savoury biscuits from his backpack, you couldn’t believe you’d thought of spending your Friday any other way. 

You talked and ate and waded into the water, splashing each other and jumping over waves. And when you weren’t doing that, you alternated between reading your script and a novel while Timothee laid on his stomach, headphones on, head resting on his arms.   You couldn’t quite tell behind his sunglasses, but judging by how you’d finished reading an entire chapter and he hadn’t moved a muscle, you assumed he’d fallen asleep. Under the sun block and daylight, his pale skin seemed to glow. His hair a perfectly messy mop, grains of sand nestled into the ends of his curls. Timothee really did have perfect features. You could objectively see that now that you were really looking at him. Bold eyebrows poking over the tops of his sunglasses, strong nose, angelic lips- “You staring at me?” You quickly looked out towards the water, resting your chin onto your knees and hugging your legs. “No, just checking if you were awake.” He rolled over, stretching out. “I am now.” Checking the time on his watch, he added, “Shit. We’ve been here for hours.” He reached out and picked up one of the few remaining uneaten strawberries by its stalk while you packed away your books into your bag. “Do you feel like getting dinner?” he asked, tossing the leafy remains into the pile you’d made as you ate.   “Yes,” you eagerly nodded your head. Laying out on the sand all day really worked up your appetite. Already feeling drowsy from the fresh air and too much sun, you followed Timothee’s lead from the shore to the row of bars and cafes lining the beach. He led you inside the doors of a quaint pub; one hand holding the door open, the other on the small of your back. A live band was set up on the raised stage towards the back, playing acoustic French music for those enjoying meals and post-work drinks. You found a seat at the bar, sharing bread and wine, your heart swelling the more time you spent learning the workings of Timothee’s mind. You could’ve sat all night with your chin in the palm of your hand, listening to him rattle on about his favourite directors and film theories and character studies, then abruptly stop himself with an embarrassed laugh, running his palms down his thighs. “Anyway,” he laughed, shaking his head. He finished his drink, then tuned into the DJ who’d since replaced the initial band. “Wanna dance?” Several drinks in and hours of dancing later, you were still on the dance floor with a drink in hand.  As the night went on, every time your head spin subsided, Timothee was either dragging you through the crammed bodies back over to the bar or replacing empty glasses in your hand with overflowing cups of alcohol. After the fourth glass exchange, you put an arm around his neck to pull his ear down to be level with your lips. While your thoughts were still somewhat coherent, your words were a little slurred. “Timmy, maybe you should slow down a bit.” As you were speaking, the ABBA remix playing faded into Kid Cudi, and you watched as your words fell onto deaf ears. Timothee’s face lit up and he shouted, “FUCK YEAH!” raising his free arm above his head. Your eyes followed his movements as he sang along to every word, big grin on his face, never stopping to breath; only pausing for a sip of his drink.   Before you knew what was happening, your back was against the wall and Timothee’s lips on yours. But just as quickly as he had kissed you, he was pulling back, flicking his hair back and shouting the next lyric through a tipsy grin. As the chorus started for a second time, he caught sight of you watching him, wide eyed and in a daze, and set his empty glass down as you reached to grab his waist. He stepped in to kiss you again; this time harder, longer and deeper.   The remainder of the night became hazier and hazier; only blurred visions of licking salt off the back of your hand and clinking shot glasses, jumping and spinning around the dance floor, and your fingers getting caught in Timothee’s salty curls remained. * An instant ache shot through the middle of your forehead as you blinked your eyes open, and you groaned. Sheer confusion washed over you, your mind unable to piece together where you were or what day it was, until you spotted a familiar black backpack against the wall and a bottle of cologne on the dresser. Ah, Timothee’s place. Timothee’s bed, to be specific. Slowly rolling over and rubbing your eyes to look behind you, you discovered you had the bed to yourself. The other side was practically untouched, blankets still tucked under the mattress. A door creaked open, and Timothee emerged from the adjoining bathroom, dragging his feet behind him. Seeing you were awake, he changed course and climbed onto the intact side of the bed, mumbling out, ‘Morning’ in a deep, soft voice. He sat with his back to you, and the one hand cradled to your chest itched to reach forward and trace down his spine. You weren’t sure where the urge came from. Maybe because of the way his hooded eyes, drunk on tequila and European air, remained locked on yours for hours last night. How his strawberry lips sponged kisses on your cheek and neck as you waited at the bar. How his hands had so delicately clasped around your cheeks when he kissed you for real over and over and over again. It would’ve been so easy to push back the covers, walk your fingers across the mattress; to drag them up and down his back or affectionately twist the ends of his hair. But Timothee was leaning back against his pillows to lie down beside you before you could muster up the courage to do so. With interlaced fingers resting on his bare chest, he looked over to you. “How did we get home last night?” You yawned, nestling further down into the pillows. “We walked, remember?” “Oh, shit.” Timothee nodded, pursing his lips with a hum. “I feel like shit.” “You drank a lot last night,” you said softly. He licked his lips, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck.” He stayed like that for a few moments, rubbing his face, and you wondered if he’d forgotten anything else from the previous night.   “I should probably go back to mine.” He dropped his hands back to his chest, looking over again, voice gentle as he spoke. “You can stay if you want.” “No, I should go and have a shower,” you told him, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms out. Timothee’s fingertips ghosted over your neck with a small smile, and you instinctively moved your head back from under his sudden touch. “What?” He shook his head, bringing his hand back to its resting place on his chest, eyes still lazily drooped as he enquired about your plans for the rest of the evening. You pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, your hand subconsciously hovering over the spot Timothee’s had just been. “You know we have work on Monday, right? I’d like to read my lines at least once before then.” After pointing out you brought your script out with you the previous say, he added, “You have all of Sunday for that.”   You pursed your lips with a sigh. He rolled over, holding his head up with his hand. “Come on, y/n.” You evidently didn’t need much convincing, because a few hours later, you were meeting Timothee for ice cream. Desserts in hand, you found a small table outside the ice cream parlour, shaded from the orange glow of late afternoon sun by an umbrella. The two of you sat looking out at the streets, sunglasses hiding both of your dark, hungover eyes, observing the strangers passing by. And when you had the chance, you stole glances at the boy sitting across from you. When you met him out the front of the hotel, his formerly dry, sandy hair was now shiny, the ends still a little damp. He smelled fresh when you hugged him, and his jumper was soft on your cheek. He’d complimented your turtle neck top, which reminded you… “By the way,” you said, pulling Timothee’s attention from the open roads to you, “I’m not too happy with you, Timothee.” He frowned, taking another lick of his ice cream. “What the fuck did I do?” You teasingly held his stare. “Oh, I don’t know,” you said, pulling down the high neck of your top to reveal your purple stained skin. A shy smile overtook Timothee’s face and he shrugged, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, yeah. Sorry?” “Funny is it?” you mused, sliding your sunglasses down your nose to look over the frames at him. Timothee licked his melting ice cream, then said, “No, but now that you mention it, y/n, I’m mad at you too.” You slid your glasses all the way off, placing them down on the table. “Really? Why’s that?” Timothee, with a cocky smile, tugged down the chunky collar of his sweater, revealing a light bruise at the very base of his neck. You instinctively lowered your face and hid your eyes behind your free hand. “Oh my god.” Through the cracks between your fingers, you saw him smiling, bringing his cone back up to his mouth. “Forgot about that, did you?”   Dropping your hands with a laugh, you reached forward, using your thumb to push back his collar again and run your thumb over the mark you left on his pale skin. “Sorry,” you mumbled with a little pout. With an exaggerated sigh, looking up to make eye contact with Timothee, you added, “What is wrong with us?” He laughed, putting his hand on your wrist and running his thumb over your skin. “It’s alright. I forgive you.” You shook your head in mock disapproval, but there was a buzzing in your chest as you felt his lingering eyes and warm skin on yours.   You strolled back to the hotel in comfortable silence. Despite being a bundle of nerves, it was nice being with him. He made you think, and he made you feel. A man adorned in a billowing linen shirt sat on the side of the street, guitar in hand, singing a sombre tune. You slowed down along with the few other strangers who had paused to listen to the man’s song, Timothee a few paces behind you, taking his sunglasses off as he slowed. A few moments passed, and Timothee leaned down from his place behind you so that he could speak softly in your ear. “He’s singing about his lover.” Timothee paused to listen to the next line. “He doesn’t want to live without them… he feels empty… and sick… he- he’s waiting for her but… he knows she’s gone for good.” Turning over your shoulder, you pouted up at Timothee, who reciprocated the expression. “That’s so sad.” Timothee nodded. His hair flopped over his cheek, and you noticed his eyes sparkling in the golden cast of evening light. Over his shoulder, a couple held each other, longingly looking into each other’s eyes, tenderly touching each other’s cheeks. As a loaded weight settled on your chest, you looked back up at Timothee. The space between his eyebrows slightly creased and he smiled. “What?” Clicking your tongue against your teeth, and shaking your head, you answered, “Nothing.” You both knew it wasn’t nothing. With a sigh, you snuck your hand between his arm and body, grabbing onto his forearm to lead him away. “Alright, I only agreed to ice cream. Let’s go.” It was quiet when you got to your floor of the hotel, so you tried to be as silent as possible climbing the stairs, so other guests weren’t disturbed. You and Timothee were work colleagues, and friends, and his room was only ten steps further down the hall, and you were almost positive that you’d definitely be seeing him again the next day; but as he lingered by your door as you rummaged in your bag for your key, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad you were saying goodbye. Once you retrieved your key, you looked up at him with a smile. “Alright,” you said softly. “This is where I leave you.” Timothee stood by your door, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes stuck on your face. He wasn’t budging, and you weren’t game enough to break first. His messy curls flopped over his eyes again, and you pushed them back behind his ears. He held onto your wrist, slowly lowering it down to your sides. Relationships with colleagues could get messy. Everybody knew that. What does this mean for us? The words were caught in your throat. You wanted to ask; to say it out loud. But you couldn’t bring yourself to form them. Why couldn’t you just be okay with enjoying the moment? Timothee inched his head closer to yours slowly, almost unsure if it was okay. You kept your eyes lowered. “Timothee,” you whispered. “Yes,” he whispered back, resting his forehead on yours. You slowly shook your head. “I can’t.” “Why?” You didn’t respond right away, eyes still focused towards the ground, and he nudged the side of your nose with his, then pulled back from you. “Hmm?” You sighed, closing your eyes and lifting your face to his. Very slowly, he took the sides of your face into his hands. Static in the air charged your movements as his lips grazed against yours. Somehow, you simultaneously had both a million things to say, yet nothing at all. You settled on hugging him, chin resting over his shoulder. It was nice hugging him; to have him holding you close. “Good night, Timmy,” you muttered, eventually breaking free. “Good night,” he said in reply, hands sliding out from around your waist. With tingling lips, you stood up on your toes for a second to place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth once more. You unlocked your door, and while slipping inside your room, you looked over one last time at Timothee smiling. “Good night.”

#bit late but got there in the end #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee #timmy #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet fluff

[notanacousticsetcal]

betty - calum hood

summary - a story based off of the song betty by taylor swift -- one of my absolute favorites from folklore and the most beautiful little story :) (y/n) in the role of the icon betty. 

warnings - cheating

word count - 3k ish

mood board

a/n - check out the other 3 installments of the song series too! this piece is kind of out of the blue because I actually started it and finished it today which is extremely rare for me but I actually really like how it turned out. hope you guys do too. :) (def listen to this song -- its amazing). (btw this isnt the calum fic i was referencing in one of my previous posts, that one is still in the works.)

Betty, I won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom, but I think it's 'cause of me.

Calum sat in the back row, staring at Missy Grenshaw’s head feeling the hole in his chest grow larger. He glanced at your empty seat and frowned, his eyebrows scrunched together. 

He heard Mrs. Martin start attendance and when she skipped over your name, the hole grew impossibly larger. 

Calum tried to convince himself you switched because Mrs. Martin was a hard grader, but he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

He knew it was because you couldn’t stand to see his face. 

Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard when I passed your house. It's like I couldn't breathe.

Calum listened to the sound of a distant lawn mower and the rustling leaves and inhaled the smell of someone barbecuing in their backyard, trying to calm himself. He almost turned around and went home, his stomach grumbling at the idea of dinner waiting for him on the dining room table, but he didn’t. 

He was only a block away from your house now. He pretended like he was riding down your street because it had the smoothest road, but Calum couldn’t lie to himself. Just knowing your room was in that house and knowing you might be sitting on your bed was enough to draw Calum near. 

He didn’t let himself stop in front of the brick fronted modest house, but he wanted to. His legs ached as he kept pushing. He secretly hoped the sound of his wheels would draw you to the window. He held his breath in anticipation, but nothing. Not even a subtle shift in the curtains. 

You heard the rumors from Inez. You can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true. The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you.

“(Y/n)!” A familiar voice chirped from behind you. You turned on your heel to face your friend, Inez. She was your source of gossip always, even if it was almost always speculation and barely ever accurate. 

You weren’t expecting her sad features -- it alarmed you. “Are you alright, Inez? What happened?” You linked arms with her as you continued forward, heading for first period.

She nodded softly. “You aren’t going to want to hear this, (y/n).”

But if I just showed up at your party, would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself or lead me to the garden? In the garden would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything but I know I miss you.

Calum tossed the tennis ball up and caught it. He laid on his bed, absentmindedly continuing to toss the ball up and down, his mind plagued with thoughts about you.

Your birthday was a week away. Calum let his mind wander off in endless possibilities. 

He knew how much he had hurt you and the guilt ate at him constantly. A day didn’t go by that he didn’t beat himself up for being so stupid. 

Nothing was worth more to him than your happiness and he knew that now. He would do anything in his power to fix what he broke, if you’d let him.

He wondered how you would react if he showed up on your doorstep that evening, a bundle of flowers in hand and an apologetic smile on his face. 

He wondered if you’d slam the door in his face and ignore his knocks and desperate pleas. 

Or if you’d hesitantly let him come inside, your guard up, and lead him to the garden to talk alone. If you’d let him ramble on about how stupid he was. About how badly he messed up.

About how much he fucking missed you. 

Your soft smile and your positive, bright disposition and your generosity and selflessness. The way your eyes squinted when you laughed and the way your hair smelled. 

Calum really fucking missed you.

But he knew he didn’t really deserve a second chance. And he was asking a lot begging for one. But he thought he at least had to try.

Or this mistake would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

Betty, I know where it all went wrong, your favorite song was playing from the far side of the gym. I was nowhere to be found, I hate the crowds, you know that. Plus, I saw you dance with him.

Calum walked into the school alongside you, your hand in his and a bright smile on your face. You loved dances and seeing all your friends dressed up -- Calum felt claustrophobic, but he would do anything to keep that smile on your face, so he tagged along anyway.

Immediately, you tugged him towards the dance floor and he followed hesitantly. After only a few moments on the dance floor, Calum excused himself to the sidelines. He watched your expression fall, but you understood. You would never pressure him into anything he was uncomfortable with.

Calum felt like he could finally breathe properly from the edges of the gym.

He watched solemnly as the DJ began to play your favorite song. Your features lit up and Calum couldn’t help but smile, too. He wished he could go in there and dance with you but just the thought of being squished in between so many people made his pulse speed up and his palms sweaty.

He watched Dean approach you, clearly nervous, and his hands turned to fists. Calum had half a mind to go over there and punch him square in the face. 

Calum knew he couldn’t do that, but he had fun imagining it.

Dean grabbed your waist, pulling you close, and Calum’s heart practically stopped.

He couldn’t take anymore, so with one last glance at your soft smile, Calum stalked off in an angry blur.

Calum knew if he had just asked, you would’ve reassured him it was only a dance.

Calum knew if he had just asked, everything wouldn’t have gone the way it did. 

I was walking home on broken cobblestones just thinking of you when she pulled up like a figment of my worst intentions. She said "James, get in, let's drive,” those days turned into nights. Slept next to her but I dreamt of you all summer long.

The sun beat down on Calum’s back and he couldn’t wait to get home. He’d run out of water long ago, riding his skateboard in the early summer heat. 

He stumbled home, skipping happily over cracks in the concrete, skateboard in hand. 

He thought about seeing you after dinner. Taking you to your favorite tree and watching the stars. Or… looking at you while you looked at the stars. He thought about the way you danced with Dean. He still hadn’t told you how much it bothered him so he just let the resentment boil up until it stung the back of his throat.

Calum heard tires screech next to him, a familiar face in the driver's seat. Her red lipstick shimmered in the direct sunlight. Her sunglasses reflected Calum’s awestruck face. 

“Calum, get in. Lets drive,” She said. Her lips quirked up into an inviting smile and Calum swayed hesitantly. “Aw, come on. I’ll drive you home.” 

Calum looked around at the neighborhood once more, checking for witnesses, and then finally climbed into the silver convertible. As soon as he got in, his heart fluttered with guilt. His eyes filled with images of you, hurting, and he almost got out. Almost.

There was Dean again, haunting Calum through memories, smiling down at you, holding you. Calum gripped his skateboard harder, his knuckles growing white.

Her voice was so inviting and her car smelled so nice. The air conditioning hit Calum’s warm skin and soothed it instantly. Calum stayed. 

Calum didn’t just stay, though. He could’ve forgiven himself for that. 

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep and I planned it out for weeks now but It's finally sinking in. Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when you see my face again. The only thing I wanna do is make it up to you. 

Calum tossed and turned in his sleep, getting more and more frustrated with the nerves. He would face you tomorrow. It would determine the outcome of everything he had been wondering and worrying about for weeks. 

Tomorrow meant everything. He had one last night to drift into dreams about how you might react. The forgiveness or resentment. The smile or the tears. The hug or the shove. 

He drifted to sleep with images of you playing in his mind. In your favorite sweater, his hand in yours. 

Calum hoped with everything in him that you could see past his stupid mistake. But he prepared himself for the worst. You didn’t owe him anything. 

So, I showed up at your party. Yeah, I showed up at your party. Yeah, I showed up at your party. Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only seventeen. I don't know anything, but I know I miss you.

Calum straightened out his button down and shifted the flowers, watching a few stray petals fall loose and hit the pavement of your porch. He cleared his throat and listened anxiously while his heart pounded ferociously in his ear. 

He could faintly hear commotion from within the confines of your home but he couldn’t make out anything they were saying.

His shaky hand extended towards the dark wood door and he knocked twice.

Cars were parked a block or two down the street -- all of your friends had already arrived.

Calum could lie and say he meant to be the last person, but in reality, he sat in his car for 30 minutes gathering up the nerve to come over there.

He could see multicolored balloons lining the walls inside. He watched as a figure appeared through the window, the tint making the figure only a silhouette. 

The door began to open and Calum thought for a moment about running, but it was too late. Before he knew it, he was face to face with you again. For the first time in 2 months, you were looking at him and he was looking at you.

He watched as confusion and shock filled your eyes, and then disappeared, filling with pure curiosity. He didn’t notice any anger yet. 

“Calum?” Your voice was like sugar. Calum’s knees felt weak.

“Yeah, hi (y/n).” Calum coughed. “Happy birthday.”

There were a million things Calum wanted to say and that wasn’t necessarily at the top of his list. He mentally face palmed. Your eyebrows knit together. “Thank you?” You looked down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?” 

Calum looked down at the flower he almost forgot he was holding, too lost in your eyes to care about anything else. “Oh, yes. Yeah.” He stumbled, holding them out to you.

You took them without a word. 

“So um…” Calum started, wringing out his sweaty hands. “I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”

You turned around for a moment towards the chatter coming from the kitchen and then turned back to face him with a sigh. “Why should I say yes?” You didn’t look angry… just tired. 

Calum scratched the back of his neck anxiously. “You don’t owe me anything, I know that. I was hoping to apologize, if you’d let me. I know that I’m the biggest idiot on the planet and I broke your heart and there's no way I can go back and undo that, but I owe it to you to at least try to fix what I broke. You don’t have to let me, though. I wouldn’t be mad if you cursed me out or slapped me or slammed the door in my face. I deserve it. I hurt you, and I suck for that.” He took a deep breath staring at the ground.

Your eyes softened and you sighed. “Come on.” You grabbed Calum’s hand and tugged him into the house, shutting the door softly behind him.

Calum followed your lead as you stepped through the back door into the garden.

You’d planted more of the flowers you told him about months ago and Calum thought your vision was really coming to life. You pulled him to a small metal table in the corner and sat down.

Calum looked around again, taking in all you’d accomplished since you two last spoke. “It looks beautiful, (y/n).”

You sighed, proudly admiring the shrubs and greenery that surrounded you. “I needed something to take my mind off things so I kind of poured my soul into it.” You fiddled with your rings.

Calum knew he was what you needed to take your mind off of and that made him feel even worse. “What I did to you… it was unforgivable. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. I betrayed your trust and I hurt you in the worst way imaginable. That girl… it was nothing. It meant nothing.”

Calum watched you carefully as you took this in. Again, you didn’t look angry or sad — just emotionally drained. Numb. “I just… I guess I kinda just wanna know why. Was I… was I not enough?” Calum watched the tears well up that threatened to spill over and down your rosy cheeks.

He shook his head instantly. “No, no. Of course not. I spent a lot of time thinking about it because at first I didn’t even know. But I think I was just… jealous.”

You scoffed. “Jealous?” Calum blushed. “But of who?”

Calum inhaled deeply, prepared to completely embarrass himself. If it meant getting back on good terms with you. “Dean,” he muttered.

You couldn’t help but laugh. And not just chuckle — really laugh. “Dean? Dean Marshall. You were jealous of Dean Marshall?” You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughter. It felt nice to laugh after so many weeks of pain. 

Calum rolled his eyes playfully. “Yes, Dean Marshall. When he danced with you at the formal I was pissed.”

You stopped laughing, seeing the hurt in Calum’s soft features.

“You didn’t really think I was interested in him?... Did you?” You asked.

Calum looked down, playing with a loose thread on his trousers.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, Cal. I never had any feelings for Dean.”

“Deep down, I did know that. It was some petty revenge thing in my head. I should’ve just voiced my pain and I know you would’ve reassured me. I was so dumb. I’ve never regretted anything so much in my life.” Calum finished with an exasperated breath and you smiled at his passion.

“Do you want to come in for cake, Cal?” 

Calum’s eyes shot up to read your face. You couldn’t be serious. You laughed at his eagerness and joy. “I would love to come in for cake,” Calum said easily.

You grabbed his hand, guiding him towards the back door and inside.

You ignored the series of gasps from your unsuspecting friends and found Calum a seat around the table. Nobody asked questions. They just smiled. If you were happy and safe, then they were happy too.

After some time, the sun was nearing the horizon and friends were bidding their goodbyes.

Calum hadn’t taken his eyes off you all night.

Your stomach tingled in anticipation whenever you caught his gaze.

Calum got a text from his mom saying she needed him home, so he begrudgingly headed for the door, his hand in yours.

“Happy birthday, again,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Thank you for coming today. It must’ve taken a lot of guts.” You laughed at Calum’s expression.

“You have no idea. But I'm so glad I did it.” He looked down at you fondly and you felt as if your knees might give out.

Before you could stop and think about the consequences, you were leaning closer and so was he.

Your noses barely brushed and the air around you was heating. It felt like everything between you two was leading up to this very moment — this very kiss. 

He stooped down a little lower, pressing his lips gently onto yours. You felt a rush of emotions. You had missed him all this time. You felt ready to try again - slowly building a mutual trust between you two again.

His lips folded over yours at a steady pace. It was soft and not rushed. It was perfect.

When he pulled away, your lips tingled at the absence of his. 

You were startled by the sudden applause.

You friends had gathered in the hall and watched the entire thing. You hid your face in Calum’s shoulder.

Standing in your cardigan. Kissing in my car again. Stopped at a streetlight, you know I miss you.

You slipped into Calum’s car and he smiled fondly. He hadn’t been this happy in so long.

You grabbed his sweater -- the one that had once been yours -- and felt it between your fingers. “You still have this old thing?” 

He smiled, his cheeks glowing a faint pink. He looked adorable with his curls tumbling down across his forehead. “It smells like you.”

You planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He had missed you. But he didn’t have to anymore.

#calum #calum hood #calum 5sos #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #calum hood fluff #betty #betty taylor swift #taylor swift #luke #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #michael #michael clifford #michael 5sos #ashton #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of smut #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5sauce #blurb #fanfiction #story

[whatnext]

skz as ppl i’d have a crush on: BANGCHAN EDITION

school AU type beat ! this is all fluff

A/N: it’s been a minute since i’ve written and consumed any fanwriting so expect it to be messy and tangential. anywayz brief series of whatever this is (is it a scenario?? I RLY DON’T KNOW)

the only reason you know him is because he sits in the row in front of you during english.

super polite to the people sitting around him. would give you a wave once in a while 

absolutely nails every socratic circle. the teacher loves calling on chan for questions because he knows exactly what difficult-to-interpret themes the author is conveying.

and you have to give it to him, he really does have a way with words. his slam poem presentation for the poetry unit was brilliant. 

you made an effort to remember him. he just seemed so interesting.

so interesting and yet so. incredibly. BUSY

he’s an athlete. like a swimmer or soccer player? maybe he runs track? or all three? you just see him all over the place.

he’s also in a big friend group because OF COURSE he’s the type to get along with everyone. he’s always posting about how crazy his night was or something

you think he DJs? or he goes to raves? his story has lots of loud audio and shaky camerawork of him next to some speaker. maybe he makes his own music?

you’re pretty sure he doesn’t sleep.

you’re convinced that chan is just an enigma for you to never know. and you made peace with that; english class would suffice.

but one day (pretty sure it was a tuesday, ugh) he’s walking down the hallways with his friend group, laughing super hard at something stupid one of them said, and one of them bumps into you hard

you end up dropping your things and you want to scream how awfully cliche this all is, but your only reaction is the embarrassment burning your cheeks.

his friend shrugs it off with a halfhearted “i’m sorry” but chan makes him apologize sincerely and helps picks up your items

him: “you okay?”

you: “yea... he should watch where he’s going though.”

him: “yeah, sorry about that. he’s stupid, but he tries” he shrugs, ignoring the outburst of denial from his friend, “anyways this pen is yours?”

you: “yep, thanks. i gotta run to class, like, right now though.”

him: “atta girl. don’t be late.”

and just like that you leave.

ohmygod, he said ‘atta girl’  not gonna lie, it was sorta hot.

feeling: fuzzy

now that you think about it, he’s like a super sweet, kinda goofy reincarnation of shakespeare (”grow up” was such a good poem, you really can’t get it out of your head. it should be a song or something)

soon, you’d be making an effort to catch his eye during english.

when he walked in, you’d smile vaguely in his direction (don’t want to seem to desperate)

he’d smile back at you or maybe he was smiling at the person to your left, han jisung, making another fart joke, who knows?

during socratic circles, you’d add onto what he was saying and build upon his point. you were definitely building tension in there with that one.

whenever he needed to borrow something, you were always willing to help (he ought to notice your kind, generous heart). need something to write with? you had an extra pencil. another sheet of paper? yes, my liege.

you SWORE that you were sending so many signals, but after two weeks of the effort, you decided it was best to be upfront and ask him for a study date because you’ve suddenly forgotten what rhetorical appeals are (how convenient, almost like it was for this very purpose!) and chan is the best person to ask for help in the class.

he’s pretty friendly so you weren’t too nervous about approaching him.

you checked yourself in your phone camera one more time then decided to make your move.

you lightly tapped on his right shoulder, “hey chan!” 

“oh hey,” he grinned (so cute, he has nice dimples) “what’s up?”

“nothing much really... actually, i came to ask you about something”

“yeah sure of course, ask away.” he’s so earnest about it too, you kinda melt a bit

“so i was wondering,” you began “well if it wasn’t too much of an issue..” (admittedly you began to stall. you were getting nervous to ask)

then, your deskmate and cockblocker extraordinaire, han jisung, butts in before you can even finish your statement.

“hyung, we got a gig tonight and i need you to listen the beat i’ve been working on,” jisung says at rapid fire speed “see, hold up, let me pull it up. it’s on my phone, gimme a sec...”

“jisung, i-” chan raises his hand to stop his ramble, but han keeps going.

“see i added this guitar part and it sounds hard asf, but like i need you to come up with a couple bars. or we could get seo to freestyle over it...”

chan looks over at you and mouths a quiet “sorry.” 

you nod in understanding. after a few months sitting next to jisung, you knew once he gets going, he doesn’t stop (endearing really, but if you could fight him in this moment you would)

after a solid three seconds of waiting to see if jisung would stop, you knew it was your cue to leave.

you grab your things and wave a subtle “goodbye, i hope you knew i was about to shoot my shot” at chan.

he gives an apologetic smile and brings his hand to his mouth. “text me” he mouths.

with that sentiment, you rush out of the room, stupid smile plastered on your face.

you were about to pat yourself on the back and congratulate your undeniably smooth pickup skills before you realized you forgot to ask for his number.

pain.

man, you really really hate crushes :,)

#skz #stray kids #skz bang chan #bang chan #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz drabbles #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios

[redhoodedwolf]

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs. 

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K  | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

 Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

 Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

 Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

 Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country  by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

--

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Or

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding: 

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

--

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

~

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

--

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fic rec list

[glitterblazercalum]

got a river for a soul, and baby, you’re a boat

or:  Oh, fuck. We showed up wearing matching couples’ costumes to this party by accident and now everyone thinks we’re together.” + cashton

hello and happy halloween everyone!! giant thank u to ainslee @ashesonthefloor for putting this event together!! and for forcing me to actually get this fic done, looking it over, and generally being a major source of serotonin in my life. another huge thank u to bella @clumsyclifford for being one of my favorite people and loving frat boys enough that it made me want to write a fic about them to annoy her <3 love you both <3 

here is the link to the event masterpost bc I highly recommend checking out all of the other amazing fics: 

https://ashesonthefloor.tumblr.com/post/633534107120549888/hello-welcome-to-my-halloween-fic-event

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 2,872

without further ado, please enjoy the fic I wrote mostly all last night while looping drag me down for thirteen hours straight :))

Calum doesn’t know what fuckhead came up with the idea of having a joint Halloween party for Sigma Nu and Sigma Pi this year, but he really wants to fight them. He thinks he’d probably have a lot of people on his side, considering how much Sig Nu and and Sig Pi hate each other, so he tucks the idea of interfraternity war away in his head as a contingency plan in case the party goes to shit, as joint parties with any other frat always seem to. And it’s not like it’s a one night thing, because all three days of the “Halloweekend,” as Michael refuses to stop calling it, are supposedly going to be spent with Sig Nu, one party at their own house, and two at the shithole that he assumes is the Sig Nu house, in some deranged attempt at bonding. He’ll be lucky to make it out alive, probably. 

Before college, he really never did anything of his own for Halloween, mainly used to being used as a prop or side character for his sister Mali-Koa’s elaborate costumes, or, after she’d moved out, sticking a pair of fake fangs in his mouth to hand out candy to the few kids who rang the doorbell despite his efforts to keep all the lights in the house off. Last year, as a freshman, he’d gotten roped into a group costume with some of the other Sig Pi pledges, and while his memories are...hazy at best, he vaguely remembers falling asleep in a Teletubbies onesie at the end of the night. 

This year, though, no one has tried to tell him what to dress up as, so it’s now a few hours before the first of the three parties, and Calum still has no ideas for what he should dress up as. A quick Google search for “cheap easy costumes” hadn’t really been all that helpful, so he decides to ignore the problem and take a nap until he actually has to leave. 

A few hours later, Michael barges into the room to drag him out of bed, and looks around for a few seconds before asking, “You don’t have a costume, do you?”

Calum groans, pulling himself out of bed and wracking his brain for an idea that he can plausibly bullshit in the next few seconds, because he can’t let Michael be right and have something to tease him about, so he blurts, “I’m going to be a salt shaker.” 

Michael gapes at him a bit for a few seconds before asking, “What the fuck? What kind of costume is that? What are you even going to wear for that?” 

Calum mentally kicks himself in the shin, as hard as possible, because he really hasn’t thought this through. Why couldn’t he have just said cat or cowboy or something even slightly in the realm of normal Halloween costumes? 

“Uhhh.. y’know that baseball tee I have? The one with the black sleeves and white middle?” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s in my closet, but continue.” 

“What the fuck, dude? Give it back!” 

“You haven’t noticed that it’s missing for like three weeks, I just assumed it was mine now. Tell me what the rest of the costume is,” Michael demands. 

“I’ll just tape a piece of paper with a big ‘S’ on it to the front of my shirt, and then put one of those pots with the holes on my head. Bam! Salt shaker!” Calum says, moderately impressed with his ability to pull stuff out of his ass this quickly. 

“What makes you think we even have a colander?” Michael asks, crossing his arms. 

Calum gives him a blank stare. “A what?” 

“That’s what the pots with the holes are called, you idiot.” 

“You think Harry would live anywhere that didn’t have a fully-stocked kitchen? There’s bound to be one in one of the cabinets or something.” 

“Fine. I’ll go get the shirt while you look for the colander.” Before Calum can object, suggest that he look through Michael’s closet himself and steal back any of his other clothes that have somehow wound up there, Michael’s already halfway down the hallway. 

Sighing, he trudges down the stairs towards the kitchen, where one of the seniors, Niall, is sitting with his head in his hands, dressed as a pirate. 

“Hey, dude, nice costume,” Calum offers as a greeting. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find a colander, would you? I know Harry—” 

“Do not talk to me about Harry right now,” Niall says, and Calum stops his search for a moment to send him a concerned look.

“What happ—” 

“That needy-ass motherfucker thinks that just because I didn’t want to do a couples’ costume with him, it means I don’t love him anymore! Never mind the fact that he literally mentioned this idea to me yesterday, well past the point where everyone finalizes their costumes.” 

Calum offers him a sympathetic look and offers, “Couples’ costumes are boring and cheesy anyways. Neither of you are missing out on anything, at least in my opinion.”

Niall lifts his head up from where he’d been repeatedly hitting it on the table to smirk at Calum and ask, “Have a lot of experience with couples’ costumes, do you?” 

Luckily, Calum has finally found the colander, so he opts to ignore the question and just leave the kitchen entirely. 

When he gets back upstairs, Michael’s in his room, unabashedly checking himself out in the mirror that’s on the back of the closet door. “Yeah, yeah, your anime character of the year looks great, now get out and let me get ready.” 

Michael scoffs, “Get ready, as if you’re even doing anything,” but moves towards the door anyway. 

Michael’s right, the costume is ridiculously easy to throw together, and two minutes later, they’re both out the door, walking across Fraternity Row to get to the Sig Nu house, where the music is already blaring and strobe lights throw red, then green, then blue shadows across everyone’s faces. On his way to the kitchen to grab a drink, he sees Niall and Harry walk into the house, holding hands and laughing together, so he assumes that their fight has blown over as quickly as all of their other fights always seem to.

He sees a few different trays of shots and decides he might as well take one to get the night started off right. After, he realizes that he probably shouldn’t grab a beer now, Mali’s rule about sticking to one color of booze for the night ringing in his head, so he settles for filling up a Solo cup with whatever glow in the dark gin concoction is in all the punch bowls. He wouldn’t put it past the Sig Nus to poison the drink on purpose, but it tastes relatively normal, so he grabs another cup for Michael and attempts to leave the kitchen, steering around the couple sloppily making out in the doorway. 

It’s harder to spot Michael than it usually is, considering that at least half the people at the party are wearing some type of wig, but Calum eventually makes his way back over to him. He’s talking to Niall and Harry, and they both offer him a smile before continuing on with the conversation. Once that reaches a lull, Niall leans closer to Calum and says, “Mate, you didn’t need to lie to me about couples’ costumes.” 

Calum has no idea what Niall is talking about, so he shakes his head and asks, “What are you talking about?” 

Niall cackles, and Harry turns to look at him adoringly before going back to talking to Michael, and Calum is more confused than ever. Niall grabs his shoulder and spins him around and points in the direction of a clump of people. “You’re salt and he’s pepper, right? That’s such an obvious couples’ costume, although you two do seem to have a bit of a disconnect on how much effort you put in. That guy really went all out. And dude, why haven’t you told us that you have a boyfriend? You know we’d want to know about that, give him the Sig Pi seal of approval and all that. Wait. Unless he’s a Sig Nu, in which case, I don’t want to know because I’d probably have to kick you out. That’s a joke, by the way.” 

Calum barely has the presence of mind to mumble, “He’s not my boyfriend,” before crossing the room to get to the guy in the hyper-realistic pepper grinder costume. 

The guy smiles as Calum approaches, and despite the costume covering most of his body, Calum can tell that he’s cute. “Why so salty?” Pepper Guy greets, the sunshiney smile still on his face. 

Calum smirks and replies, “Maybe I just need some more spice in my life.” Pepper Guy laughs, and just like everything else about him, it’s cute, and Calum wants to hear it again. “I’m Calum, by the way.”

“Ashton. Nice to meet you, man.” 

Calum leans a little closer so that it’s easier to hold a conversation over the loud music and asks, “What’s the deal with the super realistic pepper grinder costume?” 

Ashton makes a strange noise, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and says, “I got it off some random sketchy website, but it was supposed to be a chess piece. Something clearly went wrong somewhere in production, and my friend Luke said that I might as well sharpie a “P” onto it and just go with it.” 

Calum makes a noise of agreement, mind stuck on a dumb idea. Before he can reconsider, he sends Michael a quick text that says if u’ve already taken over as dj, can u play that come grind w me song? and a few seconds later, he hears the opening notes and grins. 

“Hey, Ashton?” 

“Yeah?” Ashton replies, as realization slips across his face.

Right in time with the singer’s voice, Calum says, “Come grind with me,” and he laughingly pulls Ashton towards the makeshift dance floor. Neither of them can really dance, so it’s a mess of laughter and limbs flopping around, but Calum feels an unmistakable electricity between them too, and once the song is over, they stay for the next few, enraptured by each other. When they finally exhaust themselves with all the laughing and mock-twerking, Ashton asks Calum if he wants a refill, and when Calum nods, he grabs his hand and starts pulling him towards the kitchen. 

Once they’re there, Calum goes for another serving of the glow in the dark punch, which is steadily dimming as the glow sticks run out of light. Since that’s really the only light source in the kitchen, Calum doesn’t see Ashton until he’s turning around and Ashton is right in front of him, reaching around him for a cup. Calum’s kind of trapped with his back against the counter, Ashton’s pepper grinder costume tall enough to really block out the view of the rest of the party, and the world narrows, all of it contained in where their eyes connect, and then, after Calum has safely set his drink back on the counter, that narrow point expands just a bit to where their mouths land on each other’s. The colander gets knocked off Calum’s head as he lifts himself up to sit on the counter, wrapping his legs around Ashton’s waist to pull him closer, as close as he can possibly get him. 

Ashton’s sucking a mark into Calum’s neck when Calum has his first coherent thought of the past few minutes and pulls back, breathlessly asking “Wait, wait, you’re not a Sig Nu, are you?” fully expecting the answer to be no.

Ashton steps back a little too, and it takes him a second to register the question before he groans, “Of course you’re a fucking Sig Pi, that’s the only explanation that makes sense for me never seeing you anywhere before. You’re too hot for me to not notice otherwise.” 

Calum flushes and mentally curses out whatever idiots had started the rivalry between Sig Nu and Sig Pi before he grabs his stupid colander off the ground and gives Ashton an awkward wave goodbye.  

Once he’s out of the kitchen, he quickly glances around in search of Michael, and when he can’t immediately find him, he just gives up and leaves entirely. Fuck Sig Nu. 

He spends most of the next day bitching about his hangover, and then, a few hours later, bitching about his hangover while helping to set up the house for that night’s party. 

He doesn’t really have much more of a costume for tonight, throwing on a gray shirt and sharpie-ing some whiskers on his face. Michael takes pity on him and makes him a headband with an approximation of what they both think mouse ears are, and Calum is mildly entertained by going up to everyone and saying, “I’m a mouse, duh.” 

His heart’s really not in the right place to party tonight, which is probably breaking the cardinal rule of being in a frat, so he sticks close to Michael, who has taken over the role of DJ, once again. Zayn from Alpha Sig strolls over after about half an hour, devil horns askew, and quietly says to Calum, “Cat and mouse, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you, Hood, that’s proper cute. Not as cute as me and Lou, mind you, but still, I respect the effort.” 

Calum is reluctant to look up and see who he’s accidentally matching with today, because, with his luck, it’s probably another guy from Sig Nu. When he does eventually look up, he immediately makes eye contact with Ashton, who happens to be walking by, dressed in all black and with whiskers sharpie’d onto his face too. Calum wants to bang his head into a wall because the universe clearly hates him if it’s having him match with Ashton again. Even beyond that, Ashton looks so good out of the stupid pepper grinder and in all black that Calum wants to make out with him again. 

Ashton is clearly having similar thoughts when he gestures Calum over and leads them towards a little pocket of quiet space in one of the lesser used hallways. 

Calum really wants to hook his thumb into one of Ashton’s belt loops, so he does, as Ashton looks him up and down a few times. “Is the mouse costume your way of telling me you want me to chase you?” 

Calum murmurs, “Shut up,” before leaning in to kiss him, frat rivalry be damned. It’s just as good as it was the night before, maybe even more so, now that the pepper costume isn’t in their way. At this point, there’s no denying the chemistry. It can’t be blamed on being drunk since Calum’s been nursing the same beer all night, and the part of his brain that’s protesting against being this close to a Sig Nu is getting smaller and smaller as he and Ashton continue to kiss. 

They stay in that hallway for the rest of the night, eventually sliding down to sit on the ground, legs pressed together, sharing stupid stories about their respective frats. Calum’s surprised when the music shuts off because it feels like it’s only been an hour at most, that’s how easy it is to talk to Ashton. Ashton heaves himself up and reaches both hands down to help Calum up, too. 

“I don’t think there’s any way you can match your costume to mine tomorrow, but I’ll come find you anyways,” Ashton says, as he leaves Calum with a kiss on the cheek. 

Calum’s too wired to sleep much, so he opts to help clean up the house instead, and that takes up enough of his day that when nighttime rolls around, he’s stood staring at his closet without a costume idea for the third time in as many days. After ten minutes of consideration, he digs through one of his drawers to pull out the fake vampire fangs that he had somehow remembered to bring with him, and he goes down the hall to ask Jack to put some fake blood on his mouth and neck. Jack always goes all out for Halloween. 

Once he’s at the party, he doesn’t have to wait long to find Ashton, who looks incredibly good in his werewolf costume. There’s fake blood on him too, which is really the only way their costumes could be understood to be matching, or so Calum thinks. Tonight, Jack and Alex are the ones to tease him, “You know what, I agree. Jacob and Edward should have ended up together, Bella was boring as shit.” 

Calum’s really not bothered by the comments at all, so much so that he’s already thinking of couples’ costumes ideas for next year when he finds his way over to Ashton and whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Are you trying to make a move on me? I’m a respectable Sigma Nu, I don’t know if I can allow that.” 

 Calum laughs and tugs him out the door, “Told you I wanted some more spice in my life.” 

#5soshalloweenevent2020 #5sos fic #halloween fic #michael clifford #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #cashton fic #my fic #my writing #fluff #frat au #minor narry #minor zouis #minor jalex #me just putting all the side ships in that I can #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood x ashton irwin #cashton