#::turn back the clock [greaser au]

[scratchedscraps-a]

greaser sammy: it’s the fourth of july, i’m ready to pop these firecrackers don’t pop ‘em on me, where the police at?

not-greaser sal: there go the police right there

greaser sammy: (JUMPS OUT HIS SEAT IN FEAR)

[wonwooslibrary]

Delivery!

member: chwe hansol x gender neutral reader 

genre: fluff, past classmates to lovers, pizza delivery! au, college au

word count: 1998! for 1/2 of svt’s 98 liners!!

warnings: swearing, the reader likes pineapple on pizza lol 

summary: after moving back to their hometown, y/n runs into their past classmate, hansol, unexpectedly, and the two bond over (and complain about) pizza

author’s note: yes, i am still alive lmao i’m so sorry i basically just posted my greaser jihoon au and then like- disappeared from the face of the earth. i also shall admit that this was something i was supposed to post way before i even did my svt hogwarts house things but...i never finished it lol BUT GOOD NEWS! me and a couple of my friends ( @woozisnoots​ and @gallivantingheart​ ) have started a network together called “K-Bookshelf”! Go check it out of you’re interested!!!

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“I’m just saying Y/N, being a theater major sucks. It’s so much work! And believe it or not but there are days that I just don’t feel like singing. But no. Seokmin can’t pick up my slack for one damn day of class.” 

You sighed. “Why didn’t you just skip class today then?”

“You want me, the teacher’s pet, best singer in that class, to skip,” He stops walking and puts his hand on your forehead. “I think you’re getting sick. It’s time for you to just go back home, order your yucky pizza, and go to bed for the next week.”

“Trust me, if I could afford to do that, I would.” 

The boy laughed, and put his arm over your shoulder. “I gotta go meet with my group for my songwriting class in the production studios. I’ll talk to you later?”

As you nod, you turn towards him, “Please try not to injure Jihoon too much. It’s not that he doesn’t like you—I’m sure he does—he just treats everyone like that.” 

“I’ll try, I guess.” Your best friend hugs you goodbye, and heads off to the music building, as you leave campus to go towards your apartment.  

By the time you get to your apartment, your roommates are gone, and looking around shocks you. How did we let this place get so messy? It’s not even finals week yet. 

You went to place your bag down in your room, then started picking up the small home. The amount of pizza boxes that are sitting on top of textbooks is crazy, especially for an apartment shared by three people. 

By the time you were done with your cleaning spree, your roommates were back and already shutting themselves in their rooms for the night. You took the advantage of the empty living room and piled your homework around you. I might as well do something with my time, you thought. 

You looked at the clock. It was almost one in the morning. A perfect time for a late night pizza delivery. 

You grabbed your phone and ordered your favorite pizza, and sat back, deciding to take a quick power nap before the pizza arrived.

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When the doorbell rang, you jumped off the couch. The ringing had awoken you, but you didn’t mind since that meant your precious food was here. 

As the door opened, you saw a familiar face. One that was framed by curly brown hair: his eyes bright, and his smile growing.

“Hansol?” you looked at the boy in the bright red shirt and black jeans, his matching red hat backwards on his head so you are unable to see the logo on it. 

“Oh! Y/N? I thought you left here a long time ago. I wasn’t expecting you to be back here so soon.”

You should probably explain this situation. You and Hansol went to high school together, but after graduation, Hansol decided to stay here, and you left to travel while being enrolled in college. After a while, traveling every other week became too much, and your lack of money was beginning to make decisions for you. So, you moved back to your hometown and continued going to your classes, but decided to go in person, which is where you met Seungkwan in your literature class. Now Hansol is apparently delivering your Hawaiian pizza to you at one in the morning on a Saturday. 

“Uh yeah, I moved back here about a month ago. How long have you been uh,” you looked at the box that was still in his hands. “Delivering pizzas for?” 

“About a month or two after we graduated, actually. Though I can confidently say that pizza just isn’t as good as it used to be for me.” 

You laughed. “Well, thank you. Would you like to come in?” You gestured to the direction of the kitchen. Hansol puts his leg up and balances the box of pizza (that smells delicious, by the way) on his hand and his knee in order to pull his phone out of his pocket. 

“Uh, sure. I have a couple of minutes before I have to be at the pizzeria again.” You smiled, and took the box from him. He follows you into your apartment and to the kitchen, where you place the box on the counter before going towards the cupboard and taking out two plates. 

“Pizza?” you offered, opening the box. 

He uses his pointer finger to open the box slightly before muttering “Disgusting.” 

“Hey! Don’t hate on my pizza! Do you want some or not?”

“No way! Pineapple does not belong on pizza.” 

You snorted. “Didn’t you know it was Hawaiian pizza? You delivered it.”

“Just because I deliver it doesn’t mean I open the box, that’s not what they pay me for!” 

“Yeah, okay.” You took a slice of the pizza and bit into it, while Hansol kept his signature disgusted look on his face.

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After seeing Hansol (with your pizza) suddenly last week, you began noticing how often you actually passed by him on campus. You learned that he decided to go to college and pursue a career in music, but while getting an education, he thought it would be smart to get a job. You definitely couldn’t blame him, as lack of finances was the exact reason you're back in this town. 

“Did you know that Hansol is still here?” you asked your other childhood friend, Chan. 

“Yeah, actually. I see him a lot in the music building.”

“It makes sense that he’s there,” You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “I mean, he is a music major after all. The real question is why you are in the music building enough to see him that often, especially as a dance major.”

“Soonyoung, the leader of my dance team, goes to visit his roommate a lot during class and he brings me, Junhui and Minghao with him all the time. Jihoon is a producer. He actually works with both Seungkwan and Hansol a lot.” 

“Wait—does that mean that Seungkwan and Hansol know each other?”

“Yeah, they’re working on a project or something together for one of their songwriting classes.”

Suddenly everything is starting to make sense. How did you not know Hansol and Seungkwan knew each other? Wow, you really need to start listening to Seungkwan more when he complains about his classes.

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“Hey, Y/N, I’m going to grab dinner later tonight with a group of friends. Do you want to join?”

You glanced up from the textbook you were hunting for citations in and looked at your friend, the library chair squeaking as you sat up. 

“Sure, when?” 

Seungkwan looked at his watch. “Let’s see…it’s almost 4 right now, and we agreed to meet at 6:30, so in about two and a half hours? Does that work for you?”

You smiled, “Yeah, it does.”

You and Seungkwan walked together from the library to dinner. You spend almost all of your weekend studying for your midterms, and you were looking forward to having good food and a break from shoving your face in your textbook. 

When the two of you arrived, you noticed the very packed table. “How many people were invited to this dinner thing, anyway?” you questioned your best friend. 

“About…14. Including you.”

You nodded and followed him to the table the large group was already sitting at. You knew a couple people there, such as Jihoon, the infamous producer, as well as Soonyoung and the rest of his dance team: Minghao, Junhui and Chan. You also noticed Seokmin from Seungkwan’s theater class. 

Seungkwan quickly introduced you to the rest of the friend group. You were sitting on the edge of the rounded booth, next to Seungcheol: the business major and music minor who shares a couple of songwriting classes with Jihoon and Seungkwan. 

“Where is Hansol? Has anyone seen him today?” Mingyu, the fashion major asked. “I checked the group chat but there is nothing from him.” 

“I was texting him earlier,” Jihoon piped up. “He said he might be late doing deliveries today. He promised that he’d be here before 7 though--told us to get started without him.”

Hansol? Deliveries? Is Hansol…? That’s right, Chan said Hansol is friends with Jihoon and Seungkwan. It took a few minutes for it to click that Hansol was going to be here, too. 

As soon as your brain wandered off to something that wasn’t Hansol, the bell above the door jingled and the thump thump thump of footsteps was heard throughout the restaurant and heads turned towards the sound. 

There he was, Hansol in his red collared shirt and backwards hat. “I am so sorry I’m late again,” He looked over to you and smiled. “I was running late on deliveries, but luckily they didn’t last as long as expected.” 

You motioned over to Seungcheol to scooch over a bit in the booth in order for you to make room for Hansol. He gratefully took a seat next to you. 

“Have you all ordered yet?” he questioned. 

“No,” you started. “Seungkwan and I just got here about 5 minutes ago. You aren’t that late.”

After you all ordered, everyone started their conversations within the group, and you opted to just sit out and observe the group. That is, until Hansol interrupted your listening. 

“Hey, Y/N,” You looked to your left and glanced up at Hansol. 

“Hey. I didn’t know you were friends with this group.”

“I mean, I didn’t know you were friends with Lee Chan still. I mean, it’s been how long? Four years?”

“Hansol. It’s only been two years.” You laughed at his forgetfulness. 

"Really? It feels like it's been longer than that." 

The two of you continued to talk, until the arrival of the food pulled you away from your conversation. 

"What did you get, Y/N?" 

"Oh uh. I got pizza." 

"We go to a diner for dinner and you get the same food you get delivered to you every other day? Did you at least get a good type of pizza?" 

You looked from him to your plate. "Uh…" 

"You did not get Hawaiian pizza." 

"Yeah, about that." 

“I cannot believe you.”

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hansol🍕: 

do you think these lyrics sound good?

[inserted_file.txt]

Y/N:

yeah, those lyrics are amazing, sollie! 

Y/N: 

is that for the songwriting class?

hansol🍕: 

nope, jihoon is letting me use his studio. i’m only allowed fifteen minutes so….i need to hurry and record as soon as possible 

hansol🍕: 

I just wanted input before i used jihoon’s studio for the first and most likely last time

Y/N: 

haha good luck sollie! i believe in you!!

hansol🍕: 

<3 

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A couple of days after Hansol’s adventure of recording for the first time in Jihoon’s studio, he texted you everything that happened in the studio. Everywhere from making a mistake with his pronunciation to how many times Jihoon sneezed. It was fun to message him, as he was easily able to keep a conversation interesting. 

Though, his constant “…” showing up and disappearing from your screen had you worried. That is, until your attention was drawn from that to the ringing doorbell. When you got to the door and opened it, you became confused. 

Am I going crazy? Why did the doorbell ring if nobody is here?

Suddenly, your phone pinged. It was a message from Hansol. 

hansol🍕: 

look down. 

Your eyes slowly moved from the text to the landing in front of your door. A pizza box was sitting there. You looked around a bit before picking it up and bringing it inside. 

The box was placed safely on the counter in the kitchen when your phone pinged yet again. 

hansol🍕: 

open it. 

You opened the box of your precious Hawaiian pizza, but instead of the random assortment of pineapples on the pizza, you took notice of the shapes they were carefully placed into. 

“Date?” the pineapple slices spelled out. 

Yes please, Hansol.

[multi-fandomfuckboy]

Freedom Pt. 2

(Greaser!Peter Parker x Reader AU)

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had trouble getting inspired. But, here it is, I hope it’s not too terrible!

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4...

When Peter finally stopped, pulling the motorcycle into a parking structure attached to a small apartment building, you were half asleep. Your arms were wound tightly around his waist, your body pressed against his back, loving the warmth that radiated from him. Coming to a space next to the stairwell door, Peter stopped the bike, kicking out the stand, before carefully pulling away from you and climbing off the bike. You groaned at the absence of warmth, the cold night air washing over you. You pulled Peter’s jacket tighter around you, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You looked around curiously; you had never been in this part of the city. Your father had always told you nothing came from this side of town but trouble.

“Where are we?” you asked, stretching your arms above your head, a yawn escaping you. Peter chuckled, shoving his keys in his pocket and turning to face you.

“We,” he began, a small smile quirked his lips, bringing his arms around your waist to gently lift you off of the bike, “are home.” Setting you on your feet, he immediately took his arms from around you, but took your hand instead, pulling you to the apartment entrance. From what you had heard your father say about the buildings in this area, you expected the interior of the complex to be dark and hostile. Instead, you were met with a pleasant warmth and the smell of home cooked food. Despite the building being shared by multiple tenants, the atmosphere was more like one large home - welcoming and safe.

You followed behind Peter as he led you up the stairs and through the building. In your drowsy mind, you thought about how nice it would be to live here, with all of these people, unlike how you lived now, alone, in a big house on the upper East Side. You also thought about how nice it was to hold Peter’s hand, though it was just to lead you through the halls, you thought about how warm his hand was around yours and how gently he led you, like you were delicate. It was so different than how Jake would hold your hand - not at all controlling or oppressive. You were jostled from your thoughts when Peter came to a stop outside one of the apartments. The number on the door read “APT. 216.” A screw at the top of the ‘2’ had come off, so the number tilted slightly to the right.

Peter bent down and picked up what looked like a rock from beside the “Welcome” mat. You watched as he flipped it over, taking a key out of the back. You felt a laugh bubble in your throat at the irony of it. Bringing a hand up to hide your smile, you raised an eyebrow at Peter.

“You use a fake rock… in an apartment building?” Peter glanced at you, a light blush on his cheeks, and chuckled sheepishly.

“I know it’s silly, it was my aunt’s idea.” Peter responded, inserting the key and unlocking the door before returning it to its rock. Before he opened the door, he paused and looked at you for a moment. “ Speaking of, she is probably asleep, so we should try and keep quiet.” You nodded in understanding, miming zipping your lips and throwing away the key. Peter smiled again and pushed open the door, pulling you in before silently closing the door. Stepping into the apartment, you were overwhelmed by the smell of pastries and cookies, you couldn’t explain it but it was the type of smell you wanted to wrap yourself up in and never leave. You looked around, noting all the pictures on the walls of Peter and - who you assumed was - his aunt.

Locking the door, Peter turned and took your hand again, quietly making his way to the kitchen. He had told Aunt May he would be home by 10. Glancing at the clock, it read 12:45 AM. He was so dead. He was thankful she was already asleep, he didn’t know how she would react to him bringing a girl home in the middle of the night, but he could assume it wouldn’t be good. Making his way through the kitchen in the dark, he made his way to the fridge, planning on getting some ice for his hands, and (Y/N)’s face. His plan was to have (Y/N) hide in his room, then in the morning he would sneak her out, then wear gloves for the next couple days to hide the bruises on them. Aunt May hated it when he got into fights.

Reaching the fridge, Peter grasped for the freezer handle, then suddenly the room was flooded in light. Hissing slightly at the sudden brightness, he turned to the entryway and saw who had turned them on. Standing in the doorway was a very tired looking Aunt May. She stood in her robe, with her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers drumming on her bicep, the unspoken irritation evident. From where she stood, Aunt May couldn’t see you hidden slightly behind Peter and the fridge.

“Nice of you to join me, Peter.” she said, the anger laced in her words as clear as day. Peter swallowed thickly, feeling (Y/N) squeeze his hand. Aunt May’s slipper clad foot began to tap impatiently on the floor as she waited for Peter to speak.. She narrowed her eyes, as if daring him to make an excuse. Pulling himself together, Peter tried to give an innocent smile. One wrong word and he was done for.

“Hi, Aunt May! I was just uh…” he trailed off dumbly, searching for a way out of this. Her fingers stopped drumming on her arm and her foot fell still as Aunt May let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and rolling her neck from side to side, trying in vain to ease the tension in her shoulders. She ran a hand over her face, seeming too tired to fight with Peter right now. The smile on Peter’s face fell away, noticing the bags that hung under her bloodshot eyes, he realized just how tired she must be. She had stayed up waiting for him, even though she had work the next day.

“I’m sorry Aunt May. I just… I got caught up in something…” he reached up to rub the back of his neck feeling extremely guilty. As he brought his hand up, Aunt May caught sight of the fresh cuts and bruises on them. Uh oh… wrong move.

“What did I tell you about fighting, young man?!” she half-heartedly scolded him. Peter’s eyes widened, realizing his mistake and quickly burying his hand in his pocket. He opened his mouth to try and explain, but Aunt May quickly cut him off, raising her hand. “Save it! I tell you time and time again, you need to stay away from those boys! Something bad could happen! I don’t need to lose you too!” She walked forward, continuing her rant. “One day someone is going to get seriously-” When her eyes fell on (Y/N), she noticed her bruised face and busted lip; the anger drained out of her, replaced with concern. “Hurt…” she glanced at Peter, who was looking down at his shoes, then back to you. She took in the blood and dirt maring your pink dress and the large leather jacket that covered your arms before finally landing on yours and Peter’s intertwined fingers. She couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Aunt May this is (Y/N).” Peter introduced you, keeping his head bowed. Fear boiled in the pit of your stomach. You were scared of what she would do. You had no right to be here in her home, especially at this time of night. Glancing at Peter, you took a step forward, feeling that it was unfair for Peter to take the blame for a fight that was your fault.

“I’m sorry Ms. Parker, I was in trouble, and Peter-he helped me.” Tears pricked at your eyes and your voice shook slightly as you spoke ”I-I didn’t mean to involve him, it’s just my boyfriend, he-he was-” Aunt May shook her head, smiling gently and quietly shushing you.

“You don’t need to explain, dear.” The kind smile she offered you chased away your fear. She stepped forward and reached a hand out, cupping the side of your face, her eyes searching over the damage. “The important thing is that you’re both okay.” Her gentle touch soothed your rattled nerves. Removing her hand, she opened the freezer and took out two ice packs, tossing one to Peter, who caught it with one hand, and placing the other in your hand. She smiled once again and chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.” She gestured to her robe and slippers, “I would have worn something more presentable if someone would have told me we were having company.” She shot a look at Peter, who smiled sheepishly.

“It wasn’t exactly planned, Aunt May.” Peter said. She only rolled her eyes, taking a step back, she looked over the two of you again.

“Well, there is no helping it now.” She sighed before offering you another kind smile. “Is there anyone I need to call dear? Your parents? To let them know you're okay?” She asked. You blushed, pressing the ice pack to your swollen lip.

“My parents are out of town, there is no one at home.” You answered, praying she wouldn’t make you go home to that place, absent of warmth. The idea of being alone right now rattled you.

“Well, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Aunt May offered, leaning back against the fridge. “I don’t like the idea of you alone after something like this.”

“Me neither…” you heard Peter mumble under his breath, giving your hand another squeeze. Relief washed over you, the fear of being alone was enough to make you dizzy. With everything that happened, you were sure Jake would be coming after you, and he knew where you lived.

“Thank you ma'am, I promise I won’t be any trouble.” Aunt May waved away your concerns, yawning.

“Don’t worry about it dear, if you need anything just ask Peter. I’m going to bed, I have an early shift in the morning.” She grumbled, shuffling over and giving Peter a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight Peter, goodnight (Y/N).” She mumbled, walking out of the kitchen. Suddenly, you felt beyond tired, like you could sleep for days. Glancing at Peter, you caught his eye, causing the both of you to smile. He gently rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, a small blush on his cheeks.

“Welcome home.”

---

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4...

[ace-t-fic]

Riverside Gryff’s

Phone fanifc be warned no grammar (I made the greaser au + plus any complaints about lily’s writing are based heavily off she was written I just added more on having a sister like petunia to it.)

The ear-piercing sound of glass shattering dulled in comparison to the loud chatter and Music, and that filled the room. But the workers heard it with a heavy sigh as one marked down another tally mark. That's the fifth one; it's only three days into the week. These kids brought in good business but Minerva thinks they’ll run her dry with all the replacements she has to order.

“I’m headed out!” Diana rushed tapping Severus on the shoulder. He only bid her half-assed goodbye before he finished tying up his apron. She was an elderly woman that handled the hard coffee crowd in the morning. By the time Severus clocked in half of the morning/afternoon crowd was beginning to rush out. They were replaced by the younger staff who could handle their own crowd— teenagers.

If there's one thing besides the teenagers, they hated about this place; it was working the floor. Sure the girls loved it and reveled in being next to the many teen sleazeballs that frequented it, but Severus did not. Weasley also downright hated it; the Spinner's End kids had no qualms about throwing him the harshest of nicknames. ‘Fire Crotch’ was a favorite of Severus'.

But Severus hated working the floor whenever any of the jocks down from the riverside visited. Especially when A bunch of spoiled jocks who thought they were thugs came in. Riverside Gryff’s etched across their backs on black leather. All they did was change from their letterman jackets on the way over. They never did anything but bully and abuse lesser people than them. On the other hand, Severus knew true thugs that would stab you in the gut for anything.

"Whatcha thinking in that pretty little head there?"

"All the self-defense moves my mother taught me to ward off men like you." He stated boardely before grabbing at his notepad "What will it be, Potter."

"The in-between Sundae."

"The hell is that? Severus said before reaching under the counter to grab a hold of one of the menus. "We don't have that here."

"Sure you do" James started, a sultry smile gracing his lips as he leant halfway over the counter."Just give me a bottle of whipped cream and spread ya legs-"

"You never know when to shut up, give up and move on," Severus hissed. Briefly eyeing the patron over giving them disapproving looks.

"Of course I don't. I've seen you in my leather jacket."He smirked, leaning closer on the bar." and out of it."

"Excuse me!" Snipped a customer causing Severus to jump-start and remember he's at work, hitting customers is not in the business model.

God, he really hated life sometimes, more so when he took into account that lily was probably the worst friend he's ever picked up. Realistically she roped him into more trouble than his short run with Lucius. She was his best friend but they all were too fucked in their childhoods in too many ways.

They met in church, and he lived on to see her try as hard as possible to shake the notion that she was square. She wanted to rock and sing blues in midnight clubs. Ask Severus, and he'd tell you he had always thought she was jealous of his sister in that way. Petunia, as much as a devil, still managed to garner her family's love while she was sneaking out from the back porch with a cigarette in her pocket and Vernon waiting in a cab a couple of blocks down. At one point she had roped Lily into being her secret keeper.

Lily always folded under pressure and being a square for the rest of her life crisped the edges. So much so that she got involved with the crowds at the riverside. Severus would've never seen it coming with their separate schools and incomes between them. That was until he started shadowing her in town and movie theaters. They went to a dollar movie that day. Abbott and Costello and Severus stood there awkwardly with three other girls who called em'selves goldies. They got into their seats, and it was fine but it seemed like they were making a fuss over nothing and throwing popcorn around. They kept glancing to the side of them and that was when he had noticed a group of three dudes sitting a couple of seats down and to the side.

It got to the point where it was irking Severus just enough for him to take a glance at what exactly put the girls in a frenzy. Got his answer as an equally irked Potter rolled his head up to glance in their direction. He had remembered him of course, preacher's son and an asshole that spent Sunday school telling Severus that since he was a bastard he'd be going to hell. Now he's a thug that keeps staring even as Severus turns his head coming to terms with not getting to watch the movie.

Even when it had finished and Severus retreated to the bathroom to wash his hands an amused James slid past him with a mumbled apology. It got even worse from there when he got his slug from a neighbor who passed and was the designated driver. Finally, it ended with a bonfire on the lake. Lily had gotten ahead of herself in strip poker and Severus was there with his shirt to save her when she went prancing along the lake. The night ended with both of them soaked and a little worse for wear.

Once the hysteria passed and lights in the lodge filled with the teens, Severus had sat on the pier miserable. James plopped beside him and his jacket heavy on his shoulder now that he was shirtless. The whole thing was weird, the atmosphere changing and stretching uncomfortably whenever they were in the same Vicinity together. Didn't stop Severus from leading him back to his car, though. When Lily had found them a few drunken words and curses later Severus had tried his hardest to drag her home. A moment later they were both found in a tree.

Severus is a little irritated to wake up and find the preacher looming over his hospital bed in prayer with his mother. A letterman jacket sitting on the seat beside him.

"How's Lilly darling," Trelawney asked, fumbling with the register.

"She's good, doing much better in the silent towns. Reckons she'll visit for the summer."

"Oh, sweet girl. Shame that DUI, these gangs they got themselves into, gold ladies and whatnot. In my day I would've been dealt with, with! a wooden spoon. "She chattered grabbing a few bills before jampacking the drawer closed." You be careful with these lot, charming boys aren't passaged to paradise." Before making her way back to the table she was servicing.

"Full of shit, that one." He heard a voice mumble near him. "Untouched and a nail-biter." Severus’s hands clenched to hide his nails before glaring at the curly-haired boy.

"Oh come on, I'm not talking about you."

"Then why make observations pertaining to me." Severus seethed, abruptly reopening the register. "Well, it's adorable when you do it-"

"Piss off," He said before going back down the bar.

His night only got worse as 4 more glasses were broken and a fight broke out. A drink knocked over and a wet shirt later with stains on his jeans had him reeling for a day off. And when clean up was said and done Minerva locked up the gates and he saw Arthur off on the bus he waited under his spotlight.

"Your shirt is a little wet there, need a change?"

[gohyuck]

part 1 is out now! here

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; ft. brother!johnny

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: this is just a prologue (but you should still read it 😉) and it provides some context for the events of the main story... part of the criminal collaboration by @neovisioned

let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

April 13th, 1956

There’s a couple of lilies in a transparent vase, half filled up (half emptied out? you ponder this in an attempt to keep your mind off of what is right in front of you) with water that likely hasn’t been changed since before the weekend. Jojo, the class pet, runs on his wheel, keeping a surprisingly steady pace for a hamster. He pays no mind to his surroundings. What it must be like - to be completely and utterly unperturbed and unaffected by those around him. Maybe you’ll be reborn as a hamster in your next life. A quick glance (your fourth in maybe three minutes) around the tense room at the rest of your classmates and at the teacher leaves you hoping.

The clock’s ticking is louder than usual - though that may just be your mind playing tricks on you - and the room seems to be holding its breath as a singular entity rather than a whole composed of twenty-three individuals (one of whom is the teacher himself), or parts, within it. The whole situation is like a suspenseful movie scene - you know something big is going to happen, and soon - it’s just that none of you have any idea of what it’ll actually be. All eyes are focused on one person - a person who’s up on his feet with a previously pristine stationary-based letter crumpled between his fingers and who is staring holes through the teacher up front, who just so happens to be the sorry individual who had handed him said letter. The teacher, a man whose knuckles have more hair than his head, is trying his best to stare back. He can’t quite match the student’s gaze.

You glance down at your desk at the wrong moment. Before you can even register that anyone has moved, the distinct sound of a textbook hitting the floor startles you. A chair follows it. Before you can look up, the classroom door shuts with a resounding bang. The crumpled up letter is on the floor by the door. Mr. Simmons, in all his balding, middle-aged, beginnings-of-a-beer-belly glory, stands in front of the chalkboard, mouth open in a comically wide look of shock. 

After what has to be more than just mere minutes, your English teacher decides that the lesson must go on, and in the midst of telling the class (now with twenty one students and one teacher) more about Shakespeare’s specific usage of language in The Taming of The Shrew, he subconsciously wipes his chalky hands on the front of his pressed khakis. You wince. That’ll be hell to wash. A girl behind you snickers behind her hand to the boy beside her that it looks like Simmons does cocaine. Somebody wonders aloud, though in a quiet enough whisper that Simmons himself can’t hear, who would sell a man like your English teacher coke. 

A smart-mouthed class-clown type in the back heaves a cough that sounds oddly like “Jeno Lee”. laughter ripples through twenty seniors. you don’t join in.

Jeno Lee. 

You hadn’t even caught sight of his scuffed black Chuck Taylors or the back of his hand-me-down leather jacket when he’d stormed from the room. There was no glint of his pocketknife, either. You’ve come to see all three as hallmarks of his persona. 

There’s a lingering smell of smoke in the air, though. His seat, after all, is only two over from yours to your right, and you’ve always been unlucky with inhaling his secondhand smoke. Rumor has it that he smokes two packs a day. 

Somehow you doubt that, though. 

Maybe you’re naive, but, after all, nobody with a smile like that can plow through 40 cigarettes in 24 hours.

♕ ♕ ♕

April 16, 1956

That's the last class you ever have with jeno. His desk is noticeably empty the next day, and the next, and the next after that until your teacher finally - though with an air of relief you find at least mildly despicable - lets his remaining students know that Jeno will no longer be attending your high school, or any high school at all. You don’t pretend to understand - there’s only about four weeks left until you’re all set to graduate, anyways - but you also don’t pretend to be surprised. 

The recycling bin hasn’t been emptied for days. In what’s far from your proudest moment, you stay after class - waiting until Simmons himself walks out to check on what sounds like a hallway fight between two boys - to dig through it, trying to hide your triumphant smile from your own self when you find the crumpled paper Jeno had discarded on his last day here. It had very obviously made him angry, angry enough to drop out, and the wonder of what might be in it is killing you.

After all, he’d been good eye-candy in class, at the very least. You kind of miss him being there, even if you’re the only one who does. You squint, trying to make out what the ink on the paper says. 

It’s a letter - specifically it’s a letter from the Neo Institute of Technology, easily one of the most difficult universities to get into in your state. Your fingers twitch as you battle internally over whether to open it or not - rejection is hard to deal with, even if it isn’t your own. Your school sends hardly two or three people to NeoTech per year, and there’s no way someone like Jeno could’ve gotten in. Eventually, your curiosity wins over, though not before Simmons walks back into the room and you find yourself telling him that you’d tripped and fallen near the recycling, all while hiding Jeno’s letter behind your back. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Your brother, home from college for the weekend, is lying languidly across the couch, hand in a bag of chips when you walk in through the front door. You aren’t surprised - you’d seen his prized red Chevy Bel Air convertible parked out front when you’d stopped to pick up the mail. You realize fairly quickly that he’s the only one home - your mother must be at a book club meeting, and your father is still at his 9 to 5. it’s just you and the devil himself. 

Johnny raises one chip-dust covered hand in greeting before turning back to whatever old western rerun is playing on the TV. For your part, you pay him no mind, dropping the mail - some bills, a... magazine, a reminder card from the dentist - on the kitchen counter while shouldering your backpack to keep it from falling. 

“Hey, John?” You finally call, already halfway up the stairs. 

He grunts in response, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You consider not telling him for a moment, but then realize that you really don’t want to witness the screaming match your parents will have with him if they get to it before your brother does. 

It, of course, being his not-so-guilty pleasure. 

“This month’s Playboy came in. it’s on the counter.” You finally say, though not before throwing him as disgusted a look as you can muster once you see the way your brother perks up immediately. Pig. He drops the chip bag onto the coffee table, scattering bits and pieces of food across it. You don’t hold out hope for him to clean it up. You also don’t wait around to watch him grab his magazine, instead making your way up the stairs and into your room, finally free to be truly alone for the first time all day. 

You shut the door, making sure it’s locked properly, before dropping your backpack on the floor and jumping backwards, bouncing once, onto your bed. The letter’s been in your hand since you’d found it, and you can’t help but feel mildly excited - and also, of course, just a little bad - as you smooth it out in your lap against your plaid skirt. Slowly, very slowly, you pull it open, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see. 

Dear Mr. Jeno Lee,

Once again, on the behalf of the admissions board at NeoTech, I extend a hearty congratulations to you for being accepted as a member of the class of 1961. The School of Engineering looks forward to witnessing your growth over the next four years, and we know that, upon your graduation, you will make us proud as an alumnus. However-

You pause in your reading, blinking rapidly in mild disbelief. Jeno - Jeno Lee, known for being a greaser and a hooligan, a threat and a terror - had gotten into NeoTech? The realization shakes you, causing you to blow air out through your lips before you continue reading. 

However, we find that we will have to rescind your full scholarship. I understand that you may find it difficult to pay tuition, but there just seems to be nothing we can do: we request a disciplinary record for each student, and yours is riddled with fights and altercations with both students and teachers, especially one Mr. Richard Simmons. Typically, this would be grounds for rescission, but considering how stellar your grades and essays are, we will allow you a probationary semester. 

You will still have to pay your tuition in its entirety. The first semester payment of $1,200 is due by Friday, April 20, 1956. If you cannot pay it, I’m afraid that we will be unable to take you on for the fall semester. 

Best regards and congratulations once again,

Sooman Lee, Neo Institute of Technology President and Board Chairman

Although you’re still surprised at him having gotten in - internalized prejudice, your brain whispers to you, and you hate that it’s right - your heart twists as you read the letter over and over again. $1,200 is steep for a college, and you know that there’s no way in hell Jeno can ever fork that up. Of course, you realize, heaving a heavy, heavy sigh as you do, he no longer can guarantee getting a high school diploma anyways. His rescission from NeoTech must be on its way to his mailbox already. 

Before you can think too deeply into Jeno Lee and his now-precarious future, a loud knock interrupts you, causing you to swiftly slide the letter underneath your bed. You never know if Johnny’s going to try and pick the lock on your bedroom door or not, though you’re glad to see that he stops short of doing so this time. 

“What?” You ask, your tone as annoyed as possible. 

“Don’t ‘what?’ me, shithead,” Your brother responds, throwing your tone of voice right back at you. “Mom’s back, wants your help with dinner.”

“Why can’t you help for once, you ass?” You snark, sliding off of your bed regardless. The door swings open just as you unlock it, revealing your brother smirking down at you in a way that makes you want to right hook him directly in the face. 

“Men aren’t made for the kitchen.” Is all he says, stepping back so you can get out. Before you can reprimand him, threatening to kick his patronizing and patriarchal ass, Johnny disappears into his own bedroom, slamming the door shut. 

“(Name)?” Your mother calls, sounding displeased at having to wait for you. You groan, pulling your own bedroom door shut before bounding down the stairs. As rock-and-roll music starts pouring out of Johnny’s room, no doubt courtesy of the radio he’d gotten as a high school graduation gift, and as your mother thrusts a rolling pin into your hands while grumbling about not raising you right, all thoughts of Jeno are pushed out of your mind. 

Dust starts to settle on the letter beneath your bed. 

It’s no matter, though: though you believe it might very well be the last thing connecting you to the Jeno Lee, fate has other plans for you. Soon enough, the surface level image of who Jeno is will no longer exist to you, replaced by your own truer perceptions. 

Of course, there’s a series of things that have to happen before that.  

It all goes to shit on May 25th, 1957. 

[harringrovetrashrat]

The discord (specifically @warheadache) got me thinking about a Grease AU and...well...

Steve gets broken up with at the end of the year.  Nancy is just not in love with him the way she thought.  So he goes with his parents for a full summer away, a full summer in California.  And he meets the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.  And it’s summer.  It’s California.  And this boy is licking his lips at him, is flirting and he just--

He has the best summer he’s ever had.

And when they part ways Billy kisses Steve so fiercely it’s like he’s fallen in love, too.  But they have to part ways, even if it break their hearts to do it.

When Billy gets news that he’s moving to bumfuck nowhere, he’s pissed.  Because how can his Bambi come back and find him now?

The first person he meets is this greaser boy, Tommy.  Sees him smoking and asks to bum one.  Tommy immediately knows he’s never seen him before, clocks the leather jacket and tight pants, and introduces himself.  And he’s small town, but he’s fun, he pushes a nerd around and makes Billy laugh, so he’s good for now.  He does keep talking about a Stevie, probably his girlfriend, and a Carol, maybe his other girlfriend, but Billy won’t judge.  Can’t, yanno.

And Steve and Carol are busy most of the day, so they somehow don’t cross paths until after school, until the pep rally, when Carol runs over and plants one on Tommy.

“This must be Carol,” Billy says, giving her a wink.  She waggles her brows before turning and yelling,

“Stevie!  Over here!  Fresh meat!” Billy turns and… Fuck.  There’s his Bambi.

And Steve is so excited when he sees Billy, even if he’s fucking nervous because Billy understood him in a way none of his partners had before. But Billy...

The beautiful boy he thought he’d never see again, who had wanted more than a quick handy under the pier, who had broken down some of Billy’s walls in a single summer, is here?  In front of him?  And he panics.  Teases Steve, and he’s honestly kinda mean, and Steve just, doesn’t get it.  Tommy thinks it’s all in good fun, tells Steve that “Billy’s just like that” and Steve stares Billy down, hurt when he answers, “Never woulda guessed.”

Cue Steve spending more time with Carol and Heather, making Tommy jealous and a little sad, and Billy just kinda swallows his regret.  Let’s Steve keep his distance.  Keeps teasing and teasing because he’s never been good with feelings.

Steve is sitting by his pool after leaving a hang out, thinking about how different Billy is now that he’s here, and Billy arrives. Followed him because it’s almost December and he can’t take it.  He can’t be here, be near Steve, without getting to have him, even just a little bit.  So he’s standing on the opposite side and Steve ignores him because he’s tired of getting his heart broken, yanno?

But Billy sits, using a stick to make the water move and he says,

“I’m sorry.” Which doesn’t mean much but Steve shrugs in acceptance.

“Whatever.”

“No, I—“ Billy struggles with the words because this boy... “I’m sorry for... for everything.”

“Everything starting this summer or everything starting from the pep rally.”

“I could never be sorry for this summer.” And Steve looks up at that, a little shocked.

Billy isn’t looking, too vulnerable, but he keeps going.

“You— I’ve never—“ A frustrated groan.  He can’t find the words so he gets up, goes to leave, and as he walks away, he hears Steve say,

“I forgive you.” And Billy wants to stay, but he’s got a curfew and he’s still so scared.  Because there’s no way Steve could still love him the way he did.  Even if he does forgive him.

After the pool, Steve and Billy kinda call a truce.  They won’t bring up the summer, but they will act like it didn’t happen.  Like they just finally stopped butting heads.  Tommy loves it.  Because now Steve will hang out with them instead of the girls, right?  And Steve does, helps Tommy and Billy fix up Tommy’s car, even if it’s just controlling the radio while the other two work, rolling joints for their breaks.  But there’s a weird distance between Billy and Steve that Tommy just can’t seem to get rid of, and it irks him.  He keeps his feelings under wraps, but like, he doesn’t wanna lose Steve just for Billy.  No offense to Billy, he’s great in Tommy’s opinion, but Steve is his BFF.

And Billy and Steve, WHOOO BOY, these boys are staring at each other any time they can.  Billy watches as Steve laughs, chucking fries at Tommy while Tommy shoots spitballs at him from across the table.  Like, how can Steve be so beautiful while he’s got spitty paper stuck to the side of his face?  Billy doesn’t know but he’s weak for it.

And Steve is literally so grateful that Tommy spends most of his time under the car so he can’t see how Steve has to keep shifting as Billy bends over the front of the car, messing with the engine.  Like, Steve has had so many inopportune boners it’s getting ridiculous.  Cuz Billy wears his pants so tight and hates wearing sleeves, or keeps them rolled up so he can tuck his cig pack in the fold, and like, Steve is just supposed to look and not wanna jump him? Rude.

And things are decently chill, right?  And then prom.

It’s their last one and Steve decides to ask someone to go with him.  I’m wondering if maybe it’s Heather, who will agree because Robin maybe can’t go, or she needs a cover.  And like, they aren’t together, Billy has made that bed himself, but he doesn’t wanna fucking lay in it.  He doesn’t wanna watch Steve get all cuddly with a girl all night, cuz of course he’s gonna go stag.  And he thought maybe Steve would go stag too and they could ditch together and go to the park or drive in or something, and Billy could finally maybe make a move (he’d deny planning this shit out and daydreaming about it even tho he 100% did).  But no.  Steve wants the full experience and apparently he can’t get that with *illy.

And maybe Steve was trying to make Billy a little jealous.  See if he would be jealous.  And maybe Steve was thinking that since Heather and Robin are so obviously in love (somehow he’s the only one who notices (besides maybe Carol)) that he could get his dinner and photos for his folks before ditching to spend the night with Billy.  But since Billy decided that he’d rather spend the night talking with fucking Stacey Connors instead, Steve watches from across the room, sad and angry and wanting.

Heather takes him out to the back, because if she’s gonna sit with a moping Steve all night she’d prefer to have a little schnapps or some devil’s lettuce to get thru, yanno?  And Steve goes to lay down his jacket, but Heather just plops onto the dirty ground outside the back of the gym, because,

“This dress is ugly and I need weed more than I need to go back in there.” And Steve laughs, sits next to her, because Heather is actually really fun and nice and Steve wished he hung out with her more--

And the back door bursts open as Billy spills out, freezing in his tracks when he sees them sitting, passing a joint back and forth.  He gets a little embarrassed cuz he was definitely planning on breaking up a makeout sesh, not catching Steve laughing at Heather’s spot on impression of their principal.

“Hey Billy!” Because Heather cannot for the life of her read the tension between the boys.  She pats Steve’s knee, handing him the joint as she gets up.  Billy helps her on instinct and she pecks his cheek, giving it a pat.  “I’m gonna go see if they restocked the snack table.  You boys want anything?” Steve asks for some chips and Billy shakes his head.  Heather winks at Billy, all, “Take care of him while I’m gone.”

And then they’re alone.  So Billy sits next to Steve, who hands him the joint.  And things are a little tense, a little stiff, but finally Steve breaks the silence.

“Where’s Stacey?” Billy shrugs.

“Dunno.  Dancing, I think?”

“Really?” Steve snorts.  “You don’t know where your date is?” Cuz he’s bitter and not above giving some jabs because he thought maybe Billy was gonna be ready.  Would have understood.  Billy shrugs again.

“She wanted to dance with Kyle more.” And well, that wasn’t entirely true, but Kyle definitely wanted to dance with her more than Billy ever would.  So he’d slyly made sure that Stacey would have someone to cry to when he inevitably dropped her the moment he could get Steve alone.  “You and Heather having a good time?” And it comes out more petulant and annoyed than Billy meant for it to and Steve shakes his head, putting out the joint and pulling out his flask, handing it to Billy.

“She’d be having more fun with Robin, but yanno.  She’s nice.  Fun.” And Billy blinks, flask still pressed against his lips.

“Huh?”

“Robin,” Steve says, like it’s obvious.

“I mean, I guess, they are best friends--”

“They’re dating,” Steve says, realizing that Billy didn’t know.  And they lock eyes and something surges and--

“I got a bunch of different kinds of chips!” Heather showers them with small bags, making them laugh, and the three of them finish prom together before they take Heather to Robin’s.

Suddenly Steve and Billy are close again, and Tommy doesn’t know what’s happening when he’s not around, but these two keep going from hot to cold over and over and it’s infuriating.

And there’s a rival gang, led by Adam, who keep teasing Tommy, because Steve seems above it all (and Adam has a one-sided crush, is maybe pissed Tommy gets to be Steve’s bff instead of him), and Tommy finally bursts all,

“You’ve been so preoccupied with yourself you didn’t even notice these guys have been pulling shit all year!” And he and Steve get in a tiny fight, but it’s quickly resolved and Steve wants to tell Tommy what’s going on but he can’t, so he just admits he was distracted.  Hadn’t been giving as much as he got from Tommy.

And when it comes to the race, over turf is what it comes down to, because both of them want the Quarry as theirs, Tommy is ready to go.  But Steve is worried for him, so he does the thing of knocking Tommy out on accident, trying to just get him to let it go, but he won’t, keeps trying to get in the car even with a possible concussion--

So Billy does it.  Fucking wins.  No doubt.  And Steve can’t help himself.  Cuz it was hot and Billy is smiling and Tommy is happy and Steve has everyone he cares about close and there and--

And he kisses Billy.  Too wrapped up.

And everything stops.

The other gang had left, thank god, but Tommy is quiet.  Billy is stunned.  Carol thinks she shoulda seen this coming.  So Steve books it.  Fucking hides.  Avoids Tommy and Billy and everyone, sitting with Nancy and Jonathan to their surprise.

Billy is, well, he’s happy, but scared.  And Tommy suddenly realizes why Steve was so weird around Billy.  Realizes that Billy probably likes him back, too.  And he feels like shit because neither of them felt comfortable enough to tell him.  But Carol pumps him up and they make a plan.

And it’s the end of the year festival.  Everyone is there.  Tommy tells Billy to meet him by the ferris wheel and Robin tells Steve to meet her by the ferris wheel.  That she and Heather understood and wanted to talk to him.  And Tommy forces Steve and Billy into a ferris wheel cart with him, Robin along as help since Tommy doesn’t understand everything.  Tells a shaking Steve that they’re best friends and nothing would change that.  Tells Billy that he better take care of Steve, but that he’s got their backs because they always have his.

They all get off the ferris wheel, Heather and Carol waiting for them, and they are all together again, the D-Dogs and Pink Ladies.  They ditch the festival, choosing instead to go to the Quarry and celebrate there together.  And everyone in their pairs, Tommy and Carol cuddling on the hood of the car, Robin and Heather dancing to the radio as they watch and Billy and Steve?

They stand together at the ledge, holding hands, kissing, finally, to the sounds of their friends, happy behind them.  Ready for another beautiful summer.  One that won’t end.

[fangirl-writes]

Honey

Colby Brock x Reader

Request: Colby x reader with the song Honey by Johnny Balik in a Soulmate AU where the two finally meet when the Trap boys decide to go to this retro aesthetic restaurant and Honey is playing on the jukebox! Y/N is their waitress and Colby instantly falls head over heels for her. Tysm! ♥️💗

Warning(s): None

Notes: Okay I loved this request and I listened to the song for the first time and omg I’m in love with it, but I didn’t really know how to work it into the story besides being the song. Anyway, I hope you enjoy @sammieh​ !

It was a mid-summer evening. The sun had just started to dip below the horizon and the empty diner was caked in a warm orange light.

The whole restaurant looked straight out of the fifties. The checkered tile, the red and silver booths, the round stools along the bar, and the jukebox in the corner that was softly playing Have You Ever Been In Love by The Ivy and you hummed along as you wiped down the counter behind the bar.

You were wearing the appropriate uniform; Hair pulled back, a white blouse and a black poodle skirt with a white apron tied around your waist and a pair of matching flats on your feet. The sleeves were long to cover your soul-mark, but you had them pushed up to your elbows to avoid getting them wet from the rag.

You glanced towards your mark. Honey by Johnny Balik was scrawled in your soulmates handwriting on your forearm.

You’d heard the song many times. It was one of the many songs on the jukebox and you’d heard it when you first came in the restaurant. You supposed that’s why you had applied to work there, hoping that you’d run into your soulmate.

It had yet to happen, but you’d seen many soulmates meet each other in the diner and you hoped that one day the location would bring yours to you.

The bell above the door jingled, indicating the arrival of some new customers.

“Hello,” You said, dropping your rag into the bucket before looking up. “Welcome to the Milkshake Malt Shop.” 

There were four boys standing at the entrance, looking around at the shop in a sort of awe. The first thing you noticed was that one of them held a camera, the second was their appearances.

Two of them were brunettes, one of them had firetruck red hair, and the last one had purple hair. Two had long sleeves, the other two had short sleeves. This meant two of them had found their soulmates and the other two were still mysterious.

The purple-haired one perked up at the music, looking over at the jukebox; the song seeming to be a familiar sound to his ears.

You smiled in their direction. “Feel free to seat yourselves and I’ll be over with menus and to take your drink order.”

They made their way over to a booth at the center of the aisle by the windows, chatting away about the décor to the camera that the one of the brunette boys pointed at each of them. The one with the camera and the one with the purple hair occupied one side of the rather small booth, the other brunette and red-dyed one took up the other.

You reached down into your apron to grab your pen and pad and started to make your way over to their table.

The jukebox made a clicking noise as it changed over the song.

“What can I get for you boys?”

The camera was pointed in your direction as you spoke and you suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“I think we should try some of the Milkshake’s milkshakes, huh boys?” the one holding the camera said.

The other three seemed to agree.

“What kinds do you-”

The beginning of Honey started playing on the jukebox and you’re heart stopped.

The boy with the purple hair was staring you right in the eyes. 

His were a beautiful color blue that went wide looking into your (e/c) ones, turned slightly golden by the setting sun. He had a bit of stubble across his lip and chin that you thought suited him, made him look older. His lips were parted, frozen around the remains of his sentence. He had a stud nose-ring and similar black earrings. He was, perhaps, the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

“Honey,” You both breathed at the same time. The pad and paper fell from your hands and clattered against the floor as your arms fell limp at your sides.

All three of the other boys simultaneously looked down towards Colby’s soulmark and then over to yours. They immediately recognized Colby’s handwriting scribbled on your forearm.

They’d heard/seen this kind of thing before. Sam had Cupid's Chokehold by Gym Class Heroes Ft. Patrick Stump scrawled in Katrina’s handwriting and Jake had Drag Me Down by One Direction in Tara’s. It wasn’t new, but it was certainly unexpected.

Colby was drinking in your appearance. He had never seen someone so beautiful.

His lips curved upwards into a giddy smile that was contagious and it made your heart flutter. “I’m Colby.”

His voice was deeper than you were expecting. He spoke softly, as if he was afraid of scaring you off. How could he? You had been waiting for this moment your whole life.

“Y/N,”

“Y/N.” he breathed out. Your name rolled gracefully from his tongue and it was as if you had never heard it spoken before.

“Colby.” You responded, trying his name out yourself.

His smile got bigger, if it was possible, and his cheeks tinted pink. He suddenly became aware of the others sitting around him.

Sam was the first to clear his throat. “Uh- Should we leave, or-?”

“No, no, you guys are okay. We’ve been exploring all day, we need to eat. I’ll just uh-”

He motioned for Sam to move out of the booth so he could slide out after him.

He was stood next to you now. He was tall. “I’ll sit at the bar so we can talk, okay?”

You nodded, still too in awe of him to speak.

He walked that direction and you retrieved your things from the floor before straightening up with a blush covering your cheeks. “Now, what can I get for you guys?”

About a half an hour had passed and you were leaning on the counter, across from Colby who was eating his burger and drinking a vanilla shake that he insisted has two straw so you could have some as well.

You’d been talking so long and getting to know each other. You found out his name was actually Cole, but he preferred Colby, that he has two YouTube channels, a personal one and one with Sam (the brunette with the camera) who is his best friend along with Jake and Corey (the other two boys). That they all live in a house in LA together and they do exploring and haunted videos. He showed you all his other tattoos and you showed him yours (if you have any).

“This is going to seem kind of forward, considering we just met, but can I kiss you?” He asked.

You grinned. “I’d like that.”

He pushed his plate and drink aside and leaned over the counter to reach your lips. You met him in the middle and nearly gasped as your lips touched. It was everything you’d ever wanted it to be, everything the stories prepared you for. You felt sparks and absolute bliss.

Colby hummed into the kiss, communicating to you that he was feeling everything you were.

You pulled apart and both had goofy grins on your face.

“Hey, Colby, man, we gotta get going, sorry.” Sam said, placing a hand on Colby’s shoulder.

Colby’s face fell and he looked at you with sad eyes. “How long until you get off?”

“We close in another half hour.”

“Come see me after?” He asked, puppy-dog eyes shining at you.

You smiled, scribbling your phone number down on your pad before ripping it off and handing it to him. “I’ll text you when I’m finished up, okay?”

Colby’s face lit up and he took the paper from your hand, placing a quick kiss on your lips before taking off with the other three boys.

You were left in surprise and watched him go through the windows. He got into the drivers seat of a red corolla, sending a longing look back at the diner before he did so.

You let out a dreamy sigh, listening to Dusk Till Dawn play from the jukebox and running your fingers along your tattoo.

One Year Later

You stood behind the counter at the diner, again, chatting with one of your coworkers.

It was your last day at the retro restaurant and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss it, but you were moving in with Colby, your soulmate, in LA and you thought it was time to move on.

“Excuse me, doll, you lookin’ to get outta here?”

You turned and resisted the urge to burst out laughing.

There was Colby, dressed to the nines in 50s greaser gear. He had leather pants, white shirt, leather jacket, and his hair was gelled back in the classic style.

“I don’t know, daddy-o. Know any greasers looking to show a girl a good time?”

“Why don’t’cha come with me a find out, kitten?”

You giggled into your hand, bidding your coworker farewell with a hug, and clocked out for the last time before intertwining your fingers with Colby’s and letting him lead you outside.

You gasped as you saw him straddle the bike. “Where did you get a motorcycle?”

He chuckled. “Rented it from a place. Thought I’d give you the full Grease experience.”

You smiled at him. “Do you even know how to ride one of these things?”

“They gave me a lesson at the place. Not that hard.”

He handed you a helmet to put on, which you did, and you got on behind him, being mindful of your skirt, and wrapped your arms around him. 

“Now let’s go finish packing for your move, honey,” He said.

Honey

It quickly became your favorite pet name.

[samingtonwilson]

Apartment 8C - Chapter 3

Getting Back in the Game

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language, lil bit angsty

A/N: this isn’t the best thing i’ve ever written by a long shot but i promised i’d upload it soon and i’m sorry it’s been so long since the last chapter.

He stumbles over his own feet. The toe of his sneaker smashes into the first stair. He very nearly drops the floral thermos he's filled with coffee. 

All because of the smile you offer him as he walks through the door. Warm in the chilly lecture hall, bright but surrounded by dusty seats with fraying upholstery. 

You pay no attention to what Wanda says— a nod every few seconds, a smile when words sound vaguely positive. She gesticulates animatedly, the water in her glass bottle resembles a cyclone held between electric green nails, and you laugh when she does. 

Your eyes follow Bucky as he climbs the steps, so he walks slowly. Carefully. With attempted grace. He thinks he might hear the slither of a snail as it overtakes him. 

Grinning at his almost calculated approach, you nod to his hand once Wanda finishes her story. “S’a nice thermos you’ve got there.” 

“Very pretty,” Wanda, taking a peach slice from the Ziploc bag you hold, agrees. As she gives Bucky a thorough once-over, she presses a finger to her lips in supposed thought. “Extremely contradictory aesthetic, though.” 

You hum. You lean back when he stands beside you in the aisle, your own gaze tracing the length of him. There’s humor and exhaustion in your eyes, a joke and hours of lost sleep in a light pink tint. “I don’t know. I like the Greaser look with a touch of innocent Sandra Dee.” 

The roll of his eyes is long-suffering. “I couldn’t get on the subway with any of my mugs. I made that mistake once and won’t make it again.” 

Wanda looks between the two of you as you laugh and Bucky scowls, her dark brows furrowed. “What? Did you spill or something?” 

Still laughing despite a soft wince, you take hold of Bucky’s hand when he pinches your side in retaliation. You struggle as he tries to break from your grasp. “We were on the Q train and some guy threw his cigarette butt—” you’re cut off by your loud squeak when Bucky manages to slip his hand out of yours and pinches your side again. He then takes your bag of peaches for himself. “Bucky!” 

He takes a slice out in a pointed fashion, his bite purposefully obnoxious. Mouth full, he continues for you. “He threw his cigarette butt into my coffee.” 

Giggling at the way Bucky holds the bag above his head when you attempt to reach for it, Wanda asks, “Like on purpose?” 

You jump twice only for Bucky to swing the bag to the left then the right, just out of reach. He smiles at the effort deepening your frown, the warmth of your frustration welcome against the blasting air conditioning. 

You pout and cross your arms over your chest after one last attempt.

He groans preemptively. 

He knows that look. He hates that look. 

“You could’ve just asked for the peaches. I would’ve given them to you,” you— your voice breaking and lilting in sadness as you look at him through your eyelashes— say. You try not to smile at Wanda’s exasperated laughter and Bucky’s arm slowly lowering, and instead continue pouting. “I guess it’s okay.” 

Bucky blinks. He looks to Wanda, his eyes wide, then back at you. With the knowledge of a two-year friendship and four month romantic relationship, he knows you’re fucking with him. But it’s the look— pouty glossed lips, gazing through mascaraed lashes, eyes puppy-wide. It tightens and tears something in his chest. Every single goddamn time. 

He fights the urge to take you in his arms and immediately thrusts the plastic bag in your direction. His voice is almost a whimper as he says, “Please just take it. Never look at me like that again.”

“He’s so easy, isn’t he?” you ask Wanda, grinning as you take a bite of a slice and pat Bucky’s cheek with your free hand. You ignore his frown. “Also, yes, the Q train guy did it on purpose. He said, ‘Got a little something for you, pretty boy’ and threw it in. Then he winked at me and Bucky almost decked him right there at Canal Street station.”

Though he’s still focused on quelling what his ego has deemed sympathy heartache, Bucky nods in confirmation. “Yeah, he fucked up my coffee then tried to hit on my girlfriend right in front of me.” 

“You were a protective boyfriend so I’m surprised he made it out alive,” Wanda comments as she checks her phone and your attention drifts when the door opens so more students from the upcoming lecture can slowly trickle in. 

Wanda shrugs when she looks up to see Bucky’s slightly confused expression. “Not overly. Nicely. Concerned for her safety, always looking out for her, having her back.” 

“She’s right,” you add absentmindedly as you look at the analog clock bolted to the wall behind her. “When does your lecture start?” 

“Two or three minutes,” he replies after glancing at the clock himself. “See you at home?” 

“Actually,” your voice trails, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, in thought. “I’m gonna stay.” 

“For my econ lecture?” 

“I want to talk to you and Wanda’s going to the library, right?” When Wanda nods, you continue, “I also don’t want to deal with the subway alone at rush hour.”

With a wave to Wanda, you turn back to Bucky and wag your eyebrows playfully. “Show me where you sit.”

In the three weeks that he has been attending economics lecture, it has never been Bucky’s favorite class. The subject matter is dense and dull, half of the students are over-eager freshmen, and the professor assigns far too much reading for a class he’s taking as a G.E.. 

But, as you fall into a chair toward the center of the hall beside his aisle seat, it’s brighter. Today, he doesn’t mind the group of girls that giggle about sorority gossip and the water polo jock whining about his GPA requirement. 

He snorts when you pull your laptop from your bag and set it on the collapsable desk. “You gonna take notes?” 

“I need to look the part. Can’t let the professor think I’m just here to talk to you.”

“I’m not being evicted, am I?”

“Not quite yet.” You open the bookmark folder in your browser labeled CLOTHES FOR FALL. “Forget the words as soon as they leave my mouth, okay? I just miss you. We’re never at the apartment at the same time.”

He smiles. “Wow, you? Admitting that you miss me? Am I dying?”

“Didn’t I tell you to forget the words?” despite your tone, your lips are struggling against a smile. “But, no, you aren’t dying. I might be, though. Explains why I’d admit something like that.”

As the professor— a short man with thinning brown hair and a matching sweater— steps behind his podium, you look over the room. You’re visibly dissatisfied with what you see. “Is everyone here, like, twelve years old?” 

“It’s mostly underclassmen.” 

“See? This is what happens when you don’t listen to your beautiful roommate slash ex-girlfriend when she tells you to finish your G.E.’s over the summer.” 

“I was too busy with you this summer.” 

“Yeah? Am I that much of a handful?” 

“Sweetheart, you’d be surprised how much more I get done these days.” 

Your laughter inspires a bit of his own, the two of you pulling your feet toward yourselves as one of Bucky’s classmates— the only other upperclassman who he usually sits beside— attempts to pass through. He sends you a smile as he takes the seat at your other side. 

He leans in when the professor begins lecturing, PowerPoint presentation projected over the canvas screen, but not so close that you feel uncomfortable— just enough to whisper audibly.  “You took my seat.”

“Don’t make me say ‘I don’t see your name on it’ like some bad 90’s bully.” 

A bright smile wrinkles otherwise incredibly smooth mahogany skin. He holds his hand out for you to take. “T’Challa. You just add this class?” 

You tell him your name and cock an eyebrow, giving his large hand a single shake. “Do you know everyone who’s been in this class from the start?” 

“No, but I think I’d remember you.”

Bucky holds his breath when you pause and the tip of his pen slips to carve a stray mark into his notebook when you laugh. He narrows his eyes at the screen as you whisper-yell, “You didn’t just say that! Oh, that’s so bad. I thought you’d be better than that.” 

“It wasn’t so bad,” T’Challa grins. He has yet to type any notes onto his Word document while Bucky has copied every word on each slide verbatim. Both have retained absolutely no information. “It’ll grow on you.” 

“Doubt it. But I appreciate the confidence.” 

He leans over again, elbows on your shared armrest to look at your laptop screen. He sighs playfully. “Are you shopping? Come on now. You gotta pay attention.” 

“What about you, huh?” You shove T’Challa back onto his side, laughing hard enough to earn a glare from the bespeckled freshman seated in front of you— Bucky offers the kid a shrug. “Get outta here. You’re actually enrolled in this class.”

“What, you’re not? Who chooses to sit in on an econ class?” 

You giggle and Bucky misspells “achievement.” “I wanted to spend time with someone.” 

“But we just met.” 

“Jesus, you’re terrible. You must be a student athlete.” 

A dark eyebrow lifts. “How’d you guess that?” 

“Well, for one, I’m incredibly intuitive.” You, without turning to face him, pinch Bucky’s arm when he snorts. “Secondly, all student athletes are full of themselves. And, third, you’re wearing your soccer team hoodie.” 

T’Challa looks down at his deep purple sweatshirt and laughs. “Not sure if I should be offended or embarrassed.” 

“I’d be both if I were in your place.”

Bucky wants to drown out the giggles and whispers to his left, the rumbles of T’Challa’s deep voice and the soft lilt of yours. But the professor is too monotone and the material is too dry. 

And it isn’t like he’s jealous. He truly isn’t. 

It’s a different emotion entirely. A confusing one. One which, while outlined in an altruistic happiness at the sight of your any joy, feels achingly close to heartbreak all over again.

— 

The glow from dim overhead bulbs and icicle string lights bounces off the bottle cap rendition of Starry Night and illuminates tin ceiling tiles, the reflected flecks cast against the dark brick walls and slowly filling walnut hued wood tables like glitter. One wall is covered entirely with napkin self-portraits and landscapes, still life and crayon impressionist renditions of Raju behind the bar. 

You’re sure it’ll take some sifting to reach the last drawing you took your time to add to the cluttered gallery and you’re sure Bucky is thankful for that fact. He hadn’t enjoyed your interpretation of his flushed drunken features done entirely in the firetruck red lipstick you’d found at the bottom of your bag. 

But that hadn’t stopped you from smearing a bit of the gaudy color onto your lips and pressing a kiss to the drawing and the subject himself, giggling when he’d mumbled something about telling his girlfriend that you’d just attempted to defile him. 

You pass the wall without an attempt at excavation and follow the sound of Sam’s voice pitched lower than usual. He emparts what seems like instructions and encouragement, his head downturned as he stands beside a seated Bucky. Steve sits on Bucky’s other side but stops listening and periodically nodding as you grow closer. 

“Why does it look like the three of you are scheming?” 

Sam’s head snaps up. His brown eyes are wide. Caught in the headlights of your curious smile and cocked eyebrow. 

He allows silence to pass through for an awkward beat, punctuated by the release of a breath he’d been holding, his eyes on you again after he’d glanced at Bucky and Steve helplessly. “Fuck, I’m not sure what to say here.” 

“You can tell her,” Bucky says with a roll of his eyes, more storm grey than blue in the limited lighting. He smiles at you in greeting as you take the stool beside Steve’s. “We agreed we wouldn’t mind.” 

You nod instantly. “Yeah, we did.”

Steve snorts into his beer bottle as he takes a long sip. “You don’t even know what he’s referring to.”

“Well, whatever it is, if Bucky says we agreed we wouldn’t mind then we agreed we wouldn’t mind.” A bottle matching Steve’s is placed before you. You nod your thanks to Raju as he pops the cap with a soft metallic clink. “Besides, I can put two and two together. At the bar. Giving Bucky what looks like an inspirational speech. He’s wearing his ‘look at me’ jeans.” 

“I’ll ask,” Sam says when Steve casts him a bemused look. He looks at you then, lips curved a barely contained smile even as he peers at Bucky. “His ‘look at me’ jeans?” 

“The jeans that make his ass look like a ripe peach.” Your giggles, in response to the incredulous looks you receive, is laced through the cracking of a peanut shell between your fingertips. You toss the unshelled peanut into your mouth and snort. “Don’t look at me like that just for appreciating a nice ass. Not when I was told someone wanted to bounce a quarter off mine.”

A tense pause before Steve smacks a fist against Bucky’s shoulder. His outraged expression doesn’t falter even as Bucky winces. All the while Sam roars in laughter. “What the hell, man? You told her?” 

“I tell her everything,” is Bucky’s mumbled reply. He drains what’s left of his beer. “You said that freshman year and I told her a month ago. The statute of limitations had run out.”

Steve scoffs, shakes his head. Thoroughly unimpressed with the two of you as you exchange chuckles and small smiles. “Whatever, jerk. See if I keep your secrets next time.” 

“Who you gonna tell?” Sam asks as he smashes an empty shell under his quarter-empty bottle of beer. “Your left hand when you’re pretending it’s someone else?” 

The tips of Steve’s ears turn red almost immediately, the sip he’d just taken a choking hazard. He narrows icy blue eyes at a smirking Sam and a laughing Bucky, excusing you from the bulk of his frustration even as you hide your laughter miserably. “Dead to me, both of you.” 

A snort from Bucky. “Okay, drama queen.” 

Steve turns to you. More annoyed than scandalized now. “I see why you dumped him.” 

“Didn’t dump him.” You set your elbow on the bar, ignoring the way your sweater sticks to the counter, and rest your chin on your palm. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when Bucky needs help getting laid.” 

“I’m reformed,” Bucky mumbles, fingernails picking at the paper label on his bottle as he smiles to himself. “Not really lookin’ to just get laid.” 

“Yeah? What are you looking to do?” 

He shrugs. “Maybe go on a date or something. Meet someone nice I can actually talk to.”

You pause, peanut shell halfway cracked under the heel of your palm. You feel your playful smile grow a bit tight. “That’s new. What brought that on?” 

“Well, you did.” 

You crush the shell so the crumbled pieces litter the wooden counter. Using your fingernail, you split a peanut into equal halves, then jagged quarters. You resist the urge to scoff at the reflection in your bottle and lift an eyebrow at Bucky when you look up again. “What’d I do?”

He shrugs. His smile is small. “I liked what we had. It wasn’t what I’m used to. I liked being able to have a conversation and a closeness in addition to… everything else.” 

Sam looks between the two of you and you’re afraid he might read too much into the way your lips have fallen into a frown, the way the grip on your drink has tightened. Instead, he asks as he takes a sip, “In addition to the sex?” 

“Obviously in addition to the sex,” Bucky says as he fixes Sam with a plain expression, eyes narrowed. “I was trying to keep this conversation ‘safe for work.’” 

“Yeah, that went out the window when Sam made the masturbation joke,” Steve notes. He asks Raju for another drink and chubby fingers place a matching bottle before him. “I think the change is nice. No more of this nonsense hook-up culture today’s generation is so overtaken by.” 

Your brow furrows. “Uh, Gramps?” You only wait until Steve meets your gaze to continue. He’s already scowling. “You’re a part of today’s generation.” 

“Steve is one of those people,” Sam begins. “You know, the ‘I’m not like other girls’ kinda people.” 

Bucky nods. “He’s just waiting to grow into his personality.” 

You hum in agreement next. “Until it’s socially acceptable to be the way he is.” 

“I’m sorry.” Steve holds his hands up. “No one informed me today was going to be devoted to roasting me.”

There’s laughter and the insults none of you really mean ensue even as Natasha walks in, the bar now slightly fuller, nearly an hour later. She joins in seamlessly, picking up on the latest thing about Steve you’ve all targeted with just a minute of silent observation. She picks up on something else, though— something she doesn’t bring up until the two of you have retired to a corner booth away from the new crowd of patrons screaming drink orders at a never-flustered, ever-calm Raju. 

She stares first. Green eyes set in a contemplative glare, lips in a neutral line. Her fingers lay casually over the rim of her tall, narrow glass. You pay her no mind, however. Your gaze is fixed on Bucky as he walks toward a small group of girls you think you might have seen on campus. “This is killing you.” 

“What, drinking?” you ask without so much as a glance in her direction. You’d switched out beer for something a bit stronger but have yet to take a sip of it, a rum and coke watered down now by melting ice. You tear your eyes from Bucky, with noticeable hesitation and dissatisfaction, when a short brunette with springy curls giggles at what he’s just said to her. “You’re drinking, too.” 

The glare becomes disbelieving. She watches as your stare returns to Bucky and you absentmindedly stir your straw through your drink. “We both know I’m not talking about drinking.” 

A questioning hum. You avert your eyes when the brunette and Bucky begin to laugh again.

“How are you doing with Bucky?” 

“Like, as roommates? Fine. He could check the mail every so often.” 

Natasha sighs your name. There’s an undercurrent of frustration cutting through her tone. “Are we going to spend this night acting oblivious?” 

“Oblivious to what?” you laugh in a bit of surprise. You withhold a shudder of disgust as you take a sip of your drink. 

She rolls her eyes, enunciating her words carefully as she asks, “How are you doing with Bucky flirting with that sorority girl over there?” 

You follow her nod and only let your eyes linger on them for a second. The straw bends in between your fingers and you shrug. “I’m doing okay with it.” 

“You’re okay with him flirting with her right in front of you?” 

“Yes, Nat.” 

She watches as you twist the straw, but nods. “Okay.” 

Snorting with an eye roll of your own, you shake your head. “You couldn’t sound less convinced if you tried.” 

“Because I’m not convinced.” She sits back against the booth. “It has to bother you a little that Barnes is trying to get laid fifty feet away from you.” 

“Didn’t you hear? He isn’t trying to get laid. He wants someone he can talk to, and date, and have closeness with.”

“Wow. Looks like someone’s maturing,” her voice remains utterly unimpressed. 

There’s a silent beat as you look at them again. Bucky’s smile seems to reflect and brighten every light in the bar, slate blue eyes meeting yours for just a moment. “I think I’m happy for him.” 

“You think you’re happy for him?” 

It’s quiet again as you sit back as well. Teeth worrying at your bottom lip, you nod. “I kind of owe it to him, don’t I? To let him flirt with people in front of me and tell me how he’s looking for a relationship rather than just sex.” 

“Why would you owe that to him?” 

“You know that guy from the soccer team I’ve been talking to?” You wait until she nods to continue. “He asked for my number when Bucky was, like, ten feet away.”

“Yikes. But you didn’t actively seek him out.”

“No, I didn’t. But even if T’Challa hadn’t asked for my number, I’d still owe him. I mean, I was the shittiest girlfriend you can imagine,” you tell her with a sad smile. “I did everything wrong.”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “You didn’t… You didn’t che—” 

“No! God, no. I didn’t cheat on him. I could never even entertain the idea,” you say quickly, hands held up in innocence. “I just— I was detached, and aloof, and I didn’t value him at all. I made jokes about us dating but platonically, I would leave his room in the middle of the night to go back to mine. I thought kissing him each time I left the apartment was too mushy and telling him how much I fucking adored him would make me too sappy.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little sappy.” 

Your nose wrinkles. “I know. But he’s my best friend. I can’t lose my best friend because I’m too emotionally constipated to be in a functional romantic relationship and too selfish to end it all before someone gets too hurt.” 

She sets her hand on yours when your voice breaks and offers you a playful smile when you look at her. “And here I thought I was your best friend.”

Wet laughter, and your head lolls back against the booth cushion. “Best friend is not a person. It’s a tier.” You hear his laughter over the commotion of the bar and sigh. “I’m over it and I’m happy for him. He should be happy. Even if it’s with fucking Connie from freshman year sociology.” 

Natasha’s hand comes down on the table and rattles her glass and yours, smiling to herself when you jump. “That’s how I know her! Fuckin’ Connie with the stink eye.” 

“She’s been into him since then, you know?” You laugh when Natasha offers you an incredulous expression. “Yeah, she got hammered at one of Sam’s parties and told me. I lived in fear of her wrath after Bucky and I got together.”

“She’d destroy you. The smaller ones go for the eyes and you’re all talk.” 

“Oh, I’m fully aware of that.” 

--

CHAPTER 4: THE FIRST, FIRST DATE

[cakesunflower]

Not Immune [Greaser!Calum AU] Part 2

Disclaimer: I’m well aware my dumbass said that there would only be two parts to this imagine/one shot/whatever you wanna call it, but this is already nearly 6k words and I kept going until I realized how long it was getting so I decided to cut it up. So now it’s gonna be THREE parts instead of two. Hope y’all enjoy!

All Parts:  Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 [Finale]

The lazy whir of the fan’s blades were calming to Y/N, her eyes following the movements while her fingers lightly played with the curls on the head of the boy currently sound asleep next to her. Or, more accurately, almost on top of her as Calum’s cheek rested Y/N’s chest, the stubble of his chin tickling her as the softest snores escaped him. She had on one of Calum’s V-necks, the size of the shirt making for a big neckline for Y/N, the area under her collarbones completely exposed, which is where Calum’s cheek was currently resting.

These moments were one of her favorites. She loved waking up before Calum if they spent the night together, because almost always they would end up tangled in one way or another, and more often than not Calum rendered blankets useless for Y/N because he was just so warm and comforting. In the months they’ve been together—nearly six, to be exact—Calum’s embrace had easily become Y/N’s favorite place to be. The Greaser who intimidated both who lived on the north or south side had become her favorite person in just a few months, and Y/N had become the only person who got to see a side of Calum that was just hers to enjoy.

The side of Calum that had the most handsome smile ever, one that brought crinkles to his eyes as he grinned widely. She saw the side of Calum that had saved money from his job at the auto shop to buy himself a guitar, who played for her on the back porch of his house and even sang a little sometimes, never failing to steal her breath for the duration of the songs he played. The side of Calum that had taken off one of his rings, the one he knew was her favorite, and put it in a chain to give to Y/N as a gift on Christmas (a gift she wore every day under the collars of her blouses). The side of Calum that she gifted a brand new leather jacket to on his birthday when his old one had gotten ripped and destroyed beyond repair during a brawl with some Preps. The side of Calum that, despite being known only for an intimidating Greaser always ready for a fight, turned soft and gentle and utterly loving in front of her.

Y/N’s gotten to know more of him—his mind, his heart, his body—in the months they’ve been together and they have easily become the best months of her life.

She smiled in sleepy contentment, having just woken up, as she let her eyes flutter shut, hoping sleep would come once again. But then something crashed on the other side of Calum’s closed bedroom door, followed by glass shattering and Luke’s unmistakable voice yelling, “Those are my fucking pancakes, asswipe!”  

Her eyes shot open as his yells were responded with even more shouting, the sleep shocked out of her as she took a deep breath to calm the quickened pace of her heart brought on by the unexpectant yelling. This wasn’t the first time she was scared awake by Calum’s friends’ shouting, but Y/N doubted she’d ever get used to it.

“Gonna kill ‘em,” Calum tiredly, raspily mumbled, lips brushing against Y/N’s skin as he spoke.

Y/N chuckled softly, the racket outside not dying down, so she decided to get up for the day because God knows she’ll be able to fall back asleep now. “Come on, sun’s up.”

Calum groaned, burying his face in her chest as his arms slid around her waist, making Y/N laugh lightly as he turned so they were both laying on their sides, with Calum’s head tucked under chin, curls tickling Y/N’s skin. “Doesn’t mean we have to get up,” he grumbled, left leg pushing in between hers and pinning down her right one to keep her in place.

As much as Y/N would love to stay in bed with Calum, she knew she couldn’t. She had told her parents she was sleeping over at Diana’s house and that’d be back by one this afternoon, and the small analog clock on Calum’s bedside said it was 11:47. “Yes, it does, Cal,” she hummed, hand sliding from his hair down his smooth back. “Let’s have breakfast.”

It took another few minutes of encouraging, but soon Calum and Y/N were getting up. While he remained in just a pair of pajama pants despite the cold weather, Y/N changed into her clothes from the day before of pants and a sweater, picking up Calum’s brush to tame her hair before putting on her headband to push it back from her face. The commotion outside had died down by the time they stepped out, and Calum made his way towards the kitchen while Y/N stopped to use the bathroom which, Y/N seemed to notice around the second month of her coming around, always seemed to be a bit cleaner than usual when she came by. It made her smile.

As she washed her hands and face, Y/N pressed her smiling lips together at the sight of her neck, seeing a few purple marks scattered here and there, knowing that Calum’s golden skin looked similar to hers. At least she had a scarf to cover it up when she left.

When she walked into the kitchen that also served as a makeshift dining room that opened into the living room, Y/N was unsurprised at the ruckus going on. Four boys who lived together were bound to cause as much noise as they could, and if she wasn’t being frightened out of her sleep, Y/N kind of enjoyed it. Her house was never this lively, full of so much chatter and laughter and the occasional boisterous yelling, and she quickly found familiarity here.

“Mornin’, Preppie,” Ashton, the oldest high school graduate of the bunch, greeted Y/N as she walked in and he leaned against the entryway between the kitchen and living room, sipping tea from a mug. Preppie was the nickname he coined for Y/N just a short while after Calum started bringing her around, ultimately shocking his buddies that his new girl was a north side Prep. At first Y/N didn’t care for the nickname, but six months later and it was a call to the friendship they established. “Want breakfast?”

Not too hungry, Y/N helped herself to a cup of tea as well as Calum hopped up on the counter next to the stove, where Luke was begrudgingly making more pancakes since Michael was wolfing down the ones already made. Calum slouched where he sat, feet only an inch or so from the floor, rubbing the top of his head and messing up his sleep induced curls even more as his tired eyes remained on his girlfriend.

He watched her, saw how comfortable she was sitting on the lone, random chair Michael had brought in a year ago because someone had put it on the sidewalk to throw it out so he took it and fixed it and now it was one of the random chairs in their house. Every time he saw Y/N lounge around his house, Calum always felt a bit shocked that she was so comfortable here, that she felt and looked so at home.

He remembered the first time he brought her over, about a month and a half in since when they had started sneaking around and he had told the boys he started seeing someone. Safe to say they were in for a dizzying shock when they found out it was some Prep girl. And when Calum brought her over, he hadn’t realized how nervous he had suddenly become when she stepped through the front door. Calum could give a fuck about what people thought of him; no one on the south side had an issue with his house. It was one story, though big enough for the four boys which gave them their own rooms. But it was nowhere near as nice as even the shabbiest house from the north side, and he’d been to Y/N’s house a couple of times already when her parents weren’t around. He knew what kind of background she came from, knew she had money, and suddenly, for the first time, Calum had become insecure of his own pad.

Seems like he had been freaking himself out over nothing, because Y/N didn’t at all seemed perturbed. The hard edged, Greaser side of him had been ready to kick her out if she had so much as made a face at the sight of his place, but Y/N did no such thing. She smiled when she took in the mismatched furniture, one piece rarely matching another, and teased that she didn’t know four boys living together could keep a place so clean. And Calum saw no hidden disdain in her eyes and decided that this chick was definitely more than just a Prep.

As if feeling his gaze on her, Y/N glanced over at him from where she sat on the other side of the small kitchen, quirking a curious eyebrow when she saw him looking at her. Calum merely smirked lazily over the chatter of his buddies, and Y/N smiled, shooting him a quick wink before returning to her conversation with Ashton. Calum felt his throat dry; yeah. . . Definitely more than just a Prep.

Too bad it was bullshit that even though neither of them saw the barrier of Greaser and Prep between the two of them, the rest of the town still did. Which meant for the past six months Calum had been reduced to only being able to touch and be with her in the privacy of their homes or late night escapades at Venture Creek. Not for the first time in the past few months, tough guy, punch-loving Calum wished the rivalry between Greasers and Preps was non-existent.

                                                            *****

Something was wrong.

Y/N didn’t know what, but she could feel it inside, feel the sensation of her heart sinking in her chest and chills running down her back and her worry increased with every minute that went by. She found herself glancing around the theater, nothing seeming out of the ordinary, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling. Glancing at Diana, Y/N saw that her friend was completely engrossed in the film, which was coming to an end soon, so Y/N’s knee began bouncing out of nerves, wanting to bail from the cinema. She didn’t even pay attention to the end, too bent trying to figure out what the hell was wrong.

She was probably freaked out over nothing and needed to get a grip, but the tightness in her chest was silently telling Y/N that something bad was happening. So when the movie ended, she was out of her seat and was practically bugging out of there as quickly as she could, Diana stumbling behind her to keep up with her.

“Why’re you bailin’ so quick, Y/N?” Diana asked as they got to the lobby of the cinema. “Everything okay?”

Y/N frowned, chewing her lower lip as she paused for a moment and mumbled, “I don’t know.” But then she heard it. The noise; the yelling that attracted the attention of almost everyone in the cinema, and it wasn’t hard to tell that it was coming from outside. Her frown deepened and Y/N began making her way towards the doors like some other few were doing, Diana right behind her as they stepped outside in the cool March air.

Everything was louder now as they kept walking towards the parking lot where a group was gathered; sweater vests and leather jackets alike and realization dawned on Y/N that of course there was a fight going on. She felt her previously tense shoulders relax a bit, figuring that this is what had gotten her so uptight before, and she was about to turn to Diana to tell her to let’s go, uninterested in some fight, when she heard a familiar voice within the crowd yell.

That familiar voice, happening to belong to her ex-boyfriend Joey, which happened to be yelling, “That’s the best you got, Hood?”

Y/N’s heart fell.

Before the thought even fully processed in her mind, her feet were moving her towards the boisterous crowd which was throwing shouts every which way towards the two boys in the middle. Y/N could feel Diana behind her, the two young women sticking close amongst the group that was mostly made up of boys, yet they managed to shove their way towards the front.

When they did, Y/N didn’t think her heart could sink any lower than it had, and her right hand instinctively grasped Diana’s left, eyes unable to look at anything other than the scene unfolding in front of her. The scene that consisted of her ex and current—albeit secret—boyfriend exchanging blows, with Joey receiving more than he was throwing.

He was already sporting a bloody nose and an eye that was swelling up after a hit, but Y/N’s own eyes went directly towards Calum. She inhaled an unsteady breath at the sight of him, taking notice of his messed up hair and lack of leather jacket and the red drops and streaks on the front of his white shirt, which also had spots of dirt coloring it. He wasn’t too far from her, allowing Y/N to see the split lip he was sporting and his own bloody—although not as much as Joey’s—nose, along with a yellowing, purplish bruise forming on his cheek.

But what really had her grip on Diana’s hand tightening was the sneer on his lips, an expression of aggravated distaste with his eyes set in the fiercest scowl she’s ever seen him wear. Diana shot her best friend a worried look, but Y/N paid her no mind, too frozen at the fight going on in front of them. Other than Calum’s three friends, Diana was the only person who knew about Y/N and Calum’s relationship. The girl had been downright astounded and in disbelief when Y/N told her she had been seeing Calum for nearly three months, and it wasn’t until Diana actually hung out at Y/N’s house with her and the Greaser that she realized her best friend was truly smitten with the south sider.

It was lucky that while Diana had grown up with north sider beliefs, she wasn’t one to judge people harshly, which is why she and Y/N were best friends in the first place. Sure, it had taken her a while to accept and warm up to the Greaser, especially because of the harsh reputation that followed him, but when she saw him with her best friend, Diana knew that there was more to Calum than she thought. So she kept the relationship a secret, even helped Y/N out when she wanted to spend the night with Calum and covered for her when it came to her parents. Who was she to stand in the way of her best friend’s happiness?

And in this moment, all Diana wanted to do was pull Y/N out of here so she didn’t have to witness the ugly sight in front of them.

“I’m not the one with the broken nose, Ken Doll,” Calum countered, a taunting edge in his voice as he wiped under his own nose with the back of his hand, indifferent to the blood that was smeared on his skin. But Y/N cringed at it; it hurt to see him bleed. Then there was a smirk—not the kind that flipped Y/N’s heart, but the kind that sent a chilling shiver down her spine as he sneered, “Let’s see ya crawl out of here when I’m done with you.”

When he lunged, the shouts from the crowd gathered intensified, and Y/N felt her stomach twist and heart hammer at the sight of Calum landing a ring clad punch to Joey’s jaw. A gasp choked in her throat, watching stunned on the spot, as Joey slammed back into a parked car. And suddenly it was like Joey didn’t have a chance because Calum was on him, left hand fisting the front of Joey’s bloody button down and right fist repeatedly slamming down on his face, the sound of skin harshly colliding with skin making Y/N watch along in horror, frozen in utter shock.

Across the crowd, Luke’s eyes somehow landed on Y/N when he happened to look away from his best friend teaching that Prep fucker a lesson, and Luke felt his heart stop. He saw the look on her face—saw the fright and surprise and numbness—and he cursed, “Oh, fuck.”

He grabbed Ashton’s arm, the older guy looking at his taller buddy before the blue eyed blonde nodded towards where Y/N stood. And when Ashton saw what Luke did, he too was cursing under his breath before the two broke out into a run towards the fight.

Y/N watched two figures break out of the crowd on the other side, instantly recognizing Luke and Ashton, watching in silent apprehension as the two of them reached Calum and Joey, effectively pulling his friend off of the beaten Prep. The raucatious crowd died down as Ashton pulled Calum off of Joey and Luke came to stand between them, and through her anxiety over everything Y/N wondered why the boys came to put a stop to everything.

And then, so subtly, she saw Ashton nod in her direction after animatedly talking to Calum, and to her—what? Apprehension? Anxiousness? Relief?—Calum looked over his shoulder, dark eyes searching everyone’s faces until they landed on her.

She saw the instant change of his expression; saw the dangerous, downright furious glare transform into one of surprise before changing into one of what seemed like regret. Y/N was no longer paying attention to the other people around her, her eyes focused on Calum, her eyebrows drawn together in distress and unease, deaf to everything except her heart pounding in her ears.

Breaking her gaze from Calum, she glanced at Joey who was now being helped up by some of his friends, unable to get up on his own feet, face bloodied. Y/N flinched at the sight of him, a grimace flashing across her face and lips pressing together in mild concern over her ex. Then her eyes landed on Calum’s hands, no longer curled in fists but knuckles and rings tainted with blood that wasn’t his own.

Y/N’s heart was in her throat, along with a tense feeling she couldn’t determine was fear or trepidation, as her gaze lifted to meet Calum. The crowd had began dispersing as her eyes met Calum’s and she recognizing the pleading look he wore, her own gaze softening at the sight of his cut lip and bruised cheek and slightly bloodied nose. But one image of Joey’s bloodied face flashing through her mind had her cringing once more.

She saw Calum take a step towards her, and Y/N took a breath as she subtly shook her head because there were too many Greasers and Preps around, and the two of them hadn’t told anyone. She saw the frown twitch on Calum’s face, and Y/N wanted to talk to him, to run up to him, but there were too many people around. They hadn’t talked about going public, figured that it wasn’t a good idea, and it was that very exhausting ideology that had Y/N preventing herself from hugging Calum. God knows if a Prep girl was gonna run up to hug a Greaser, all the other north side boys would wreak havoc, and that’s the last thing they needed right now. As much as it pained her, Y/N would have to talk to Calum some other time.

She broke her gaze from Calum’s worried, anxious ones, knowing painfully there wasn’t much she could do in this moment. Her eyes met Diana’s, who was also still reeling from what they had just witnessed. “Let’s go,” Y/N muttered, inhaling deeply once she uttered those words. Diana didn’t need to be told twice.

Y/N could feel Calum’s gaze burning a hole in her back as she walked away.

                                                         *****

I fucked up. I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up. Those three words were repeating in Calum’s head like a mantra, a chant to remind him of his mistake tonight. As if he could forget. As if he could ever erase the rattled look of astonishment, disbelief, and devastated unease on the face of the one girl he’s ever really cared about. And the way she looked at him after she truly witnessed what he was capable of—that hurt more than any injury he could get in a brawl.

Y/N wasn’t oblivious to Calum’s actions; she knew he fought—hell, she knew that about him long before she even met him. But once the two of them started hanging out, Calum made sure she was nowhere around if he ever got into it with some Preps. Not that she would be there in the first place, since the two of them never saw each other in public, but the last thing Calum wanted was for her to witness the scene that unfolds when it’s him and his buddies against a bunch of Preps.

But tonight she saw and bailed before Calum could even say anything. He couldn’t explain to her that he didn’t fight Joey for no reason—he lost his temper because he had heard Joey talking smack about Y/N and Calum couldn’t just sit idly by and let that dick talk about his girl like that, even though no one knew of their relationship. The first crude comment about her that escaped Joey’s lips had Calum launching at the fucker. He used his rivalry with Joey to his advantage, so no one thought anything of it when the fight ensued.

Still—Calum wanted to explain his side to Y/N, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. Whether it was because they were around people and couldn’t be seen together or because she couldn’t be around him in that moment, Calum didn’t know. But he couldn’t crash for the night until he talked to her.

The cold wind whipping  against his face was almost a relief as he rode his motorcycle down the emptying streets, everyone already home from their day at work or school, hair slicked back save for a single strand, nearly curled, fluttering against his forehead. The dull roar of his motorcycle was all he could hear as he pulled into Y/N’s neighborhood, dark save for one or two lights in a couple of houses flickered on along with the street lamps dropping pools of light every few feet.

Calum parked his bike in the usual spot under a tree around a few shrubs around the corner, before shoving his hands in the pocket of his jacket, not even flinching at the clench of his raw knuckles, and quickly making his way to Y/N’s house. Her parents were home, but probably asleep, so Calum made his way around to the back, eyes on the sturdy draining pipe that ran up the house right near Y/N’s window on the second floor. He let out a breath. He fucking hoped she left her window unlocked.

Inside the house, Y/N was downstairs in the kitchen, getting herself some water before going to bed. Her parents had long since gone to bed, always turning in early, so she silently made her way back up to her room, bare feet on the wood paneled floors sending shivers up her spine as she approached her bedroom door, on the other end of the hallway from her parents’ room.

She entered the room, shutting the door behind her and when she turned around to walk further in, Y/N froze at the sight of the figure sitting on her bed directly opposite of it her. Only her bedside lamp was on, practically glowing around Calum’s seated figure as she looked at him, the shadows by the lack of light hiding the injuries she knew to be on his face.

Seeing Calum in her room wasn’t a surprise; he often snuck in through her unlocked window, using the draining pipe to climb up. Honestly, Y/N had expected him to show up after what happened tonight, and she was glad he was here, especially with how she had just left after everything went down. She hoped Calum get the wrong message, though she wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked, hoping to keep her tone neutral although the concern slipping in couldn’t be helped.

Calum watched her as she took a few steps further into the room, though small and almost hesitant. Was she afraid of him? The harsh twisting in his chest was unexpected yet robbed him of his breath; Calum didn’t want Y/N to be afraid of him. Not ever. The mere idea of her fearing him had bile burning the back of his throat. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he rasped, sitting up and squaring his shoulders. “What about you?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, walking over to her vanity to set down her glass before facing Calum. He had an unreadable expression on his face, eyes blank and lips pursed, making Y/N wonder what he could possibly be thinking. “Me?” she frowned with a light shake of her head. “I’m alright?” It came out as a question, only because she wasn’t sure why Calum was asking her. It’s not like she’s the one that had blood on her face earlier.

“You looked pretty tee’d off. Rattled,” Calum supplied, lifting his chin slightly, almost in defiance. As if he was trying to appear indifferent to her reaction of seeing Calum like that, when in reality he was anything but. When Y/N parted her lips but didn’t say anything, Calum stood up, easily towering over her, though she didn’t shrink back. That was a good sign, maybe. “You know what I get into, Y/N. You know I don’t care about wailing on some asswipe—especially when it comes to my girl.”

Y/N blinked at his words, giving a startled shake of her head as she asked, “I’m sorry, what? What do I have to do with this?”

Calum scoffed, a dry smile on his face as her rubbing his hand down his face, not even flinching as he rubbed against his bruised cheek and cut lip. Y/N stared at him expectantly, wondering what the hell Calum was talking about as he walked towards the window he had climbed in from, now shut as he stared out into the dark of the night.

“Your ex-Ken Doll was talking about you,” Calum finally spoke up, his back to Y/N, but she heard the edge in his voice, which was wavering as he tried to keep it steady through the anger that was creeping in. Y/N’s frown deepened, lips tugging downwards as she noticed the tension in his shoulders. “’M not even gonna repeat what he said but it didn’t sit well with me. Had to teach him some manners, even if he didn’t know what lesson he was learnin’.” His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it, thinking of that damned Prep’s derogatory words about his girl being the easiest bitch he’s ever laid. Just thinking about it got Calum’s blood boiling.

Y/N stared at Calum’s back, eyes wide and jaw slightly hung as his words sank in. She knew getting into brawls was in Calum’s nature, knew that the animosity between Greasers and Preps hadn’t eased up just because she was secretly friendly with them. She also was aware of how things weren’t good between her and Joey since they had broken up, her ex always sneering at her in the hallway at school and making comments left and right—though, she never told Calum because she didn’t care. Joey could say whatever he wanted, it was only fueling her dislike for him. And why should she care, anyways? She had Calum, and he’s all she needed.

She may have flinched at the sight of Joey’s beat up face, but she could give a damn about him anymore.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Y/N spoke up, a gentleness in her voice that matched the soft smile on her face. The thought of Calum defending her like that, although violent, had her heart racing. They’ve been together for six months, yet he still managed to keep her on her toes.

Calum turned to look at her, a disbelieving frown on his face. “I wasn’t gonna let some piece of shit Prep get away with talking about you like that,” he said, nothing but solid determination in his slightly accented voice. Y/N didn’t say anything, feeling a rush of warmth at his words at the knowledge of Calum being so fiercely protective of her even if she wasn’t there to hear Joey’s unkind words. Calum scoffed with a shake of his head, looking back out the window as he continued with a mutter, “Even if it means havin’ you bein’ afraid of me.”

That had Y/N blinking in disbelief, staring at his broad shoulders since Calum was still showing his back, not looking back at her, as if he was expecting a look on her face that would just prove his point. But all Y/N could do was look incredulous, taken aback at his words. Afraid of him?

“Cal. . .” she began, her hand reaching out to grab his arm, the leather jacket cool under her touch as she tugged him. “Look at me.” When Calum reluctantly turned, expression steeled as if he was bracing himself for Y/N’s confirmation, she felt her heart sink. His jaw was clenched, muscle jumping that gave away the tension he felt that was hidden in his blank expression. “Calum, I’m not—I’m not afraid of you.”

He let out a disbelieving huff with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. Saw the look on your face—you couldn’t’ve booked out of there faster if you tried.”

Through the hard mask he wore, Y/N saw the hurt crack through it and she swallowed inaudibly, her shoulders sinking at the thought of being the reason for it. Calum had the reputation for being the toughest, baddest Greaser out there—it was the side of him that he made sure everyone saw. It was the only side of him everyone else saw.

But Y/N was lucky. She got to see past the tough exterior; she saw how big his heart was, how caring and loving and gentle he was. The side of him that was reserved just for her, and while that side of him was one she adored, Y/N’s feelings for Calum wouldn’t be as strong as they were if she didn’t accept him for who he was all over. He was a Greaser—he was her Greaser.

“I was surprised, Calum, not afraid,” she told him, her other hand coming to grab his, her touch gentle as she glanced down at his hand, her fingers ghosting over his bruised knuckles. Calum turned his hand then, carefully grabbing hers and Y/N smiled smally, looking up at him. He had been looking at their joined hands before his gaze met hers, the tension leaving his features somewhat yet still cautioned. She should’ve known her fleeing actions could’ve been misconstrued, could’ve caused Calum to think that she was running away from him when in reality she wanted whatever conversation they needed to have to be done in private. They couldn’t do that in front of everyone.

“I saw you,” Calum argued, eyebrows drawing together slightly. “You were scared, Y/N. I know fear when I see it.”

“Maybe so, but I wasn’t scared of you,” Y/N easily countered, watching as Calum pressed his lips together, his lower one a bit red due to the diagonal cut in the middle. “I just—I was scared of the whole thing. No girl wants to see her boyfriend in a fight, no matter how well he can hold his own. It was. . . A lot, and I was also worried about you, but I wasn’t afraid of you, Calum. I could never be scared of you. Scared for you, yeah, but never of you. I need you to believe that.”

She kept her gaze on him, watched as he dropped his own down to their joined hands, a furrow in his brows as he considered her words, unable to stop herself from holding her breath as she waited. After their first night together at the creek, when they decided that they wanted to see more of each other, be together, it had surprised Y/N how easily Calum opened up to her. There had definitely been times when his tough, not-to-be-messed with exterior shined through when they were together, but more often than not, when he was with Y/N, Calum melted. She had an effect on him he hadn’t seen coming.

“I do.” Calum’s voice was gruff as he let go of Y/N’s hand before his finger looped into the ring that she wore around her neck, dangling from the chain. No one ever really questioned Y/N on it, assuming it was a new piece of jewelry, and every time Calum saw it around her neck he felt a swell of pride in his chest, adoration for the girl in front of him. He kept his finger looped in, bent at the middle joint, as he met her eyes. Then, hesitantly, looking afraid for the first time Y/N’s met him, Calum asked quietly, “You know I’d never hurt you, right, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s eyebrows smoothed out from their frown, staring at him almost incredulously, taking in the expression he wore. Genuine worry was swimming in brown eyes she adored, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat nervously as Y/N’s lips parted, letting out a breath. The fact that he felt the need to ask her that broke Y/N’s heart, making her want to do nothing more than erase any and every doubt that may be clouding Calum’s mind.

“Of course I do,” she answered with every bit of conviction she had, her hand that had been resting on his arm sliding up to cup his jaw, brushing her thumb along his unbruised cheek as she added with a reassuring smile, “You don’t ever have to worry about me thinking otherwise.”

One look at her—at the breathtaking smile and glimmering eyes and unadulterated acceptance—and Calum didn’t need to press on the matter anymore. He felt the weight of the night lifting off his shoulders, easing his chest, and finally being able to breathe. He used his finger in the ring to pull Y/N closer, slanting his lips over hers in a kiss that he hoped translated his gratitude, his feelings.  

How lucky was he to be in love with the most beautiful person, inside and out?

Now it was only a matter of telling her.

tags: @gotta-try-something-new @crownedbyluke @lipstickstainfading @angelbbycal @cals-babylons @irwinkitten @spookyashton @luke-0-lantern @vaporlewk @perfectlycake @tothemoonmikey @kaloncal @calumh-excess @bitchinbabylon @calistajs @grreatgooglymoogly @calumthoodsyonce @biggestslutforcalum @cosmixcalum @babygirlcashton @thebodaciouscth @irrevocablylukes @calistheloml @ghostofhood @gigglyirwin @checkeredcalum @wrappedaroundcal @complete-trash-101 @thesamebutwonderfullydifferent @booklove-2 @calumfornicationx @sensationalmikey

[brassgogglcs]

Come and kiss me like the first time~

Rowan rolled his eyes, despite a devilishly goofy smirk, and popped the collar of his jacket.“Cool it, babe, we barely made it outta the diner.” His words were, of course, lighthearted. “Besides, I got us tickets for the drive-in, don’t wanna be late, do ya?”

[peachiefics]

Candy Man

Pairing: Greaser!S. Coups x OC

Genre: 50s!AU; Fluff; Humor; Angst 

Word Count: 5,120

Warnings:  Lots of profanity; Racism (but nothing too descriptive and no slurs)

Synopsis: Young love is bitter-sweet, especially when everyone is against it.

Author’s Note:  Been having trouble with spacing lately, so bare with me.

     “Ayo, Coups!  You mind spottin’ me?” Mingyu asked, gesturing towards an apple on the produce vendor’s cart.  

    “I ain’t spottin’ shit; I lent you money last week.”

   “Fine,” the younger male snickered, plucking the bright red treat and taking a bite out of it before his superior could tell him to put it back.  

     “You better pay for that, you little thief!” the elderly owner exclaimed.

   “Cool it, Mr. Jung.  We don’t want no trouble,” S. Coups said, clearly amused at the thought of this old man threatening his able-bodied friend.  Taking a coin out of his pocket, he flicked it in the air, making it an easy catch for the gray-haired shop keep.  

     “You’re alright, Choi.  Those other ones you hang out with?  Not so much.”  

   “Eh, what can ‘ya do?” the black-haired boy shrugged with a sly grin before running off to join his friends down the street.  “Have a nice day, Mr. Jung!”

     “Have a nice day, Mr. Jung!” Mingyu mocked as S. Coups caught up.  

    “We don’t want no trouble, Mr. Jung!” Vernon chimed in with the same tone.  

    “Ayo, shut the fuck up!” S. Coups laughed.  

     “You should thank him for covering for you. Being a jackass doesn’t get you anywhere or anything,” Wonwoo informed the two younger boys.  

    “It got me this apple,” Mingyu countered, taking a bite for emphasis.   

    “And it almost got you a cap in the ass.  I swear Mr. Jung is packin’,” S. Coups said with a nudge to the boy’s side.  

     “Wonwoo with his books and you with your manners think you’re so fucking great, huh?” 

    “Well, I can’t speak for Wonwoo, but my manners are what got me a game of backseat bingo with Hyojin last weekend while you were at home twiddlin’ your dick,” the eldest smirked, causing everyone else to laugh.

     More playfully careless banter was exchanged between the four friends as they approached the bus stop.  “Alright, now if they say anything to you, don’t respond,” S. Coups ordered, upon seeing a few white kids waiting there.

   “I ain’t no candyass, Coups,” Vernon muttered.  

    “Don’t say another fucking thing.  You almost got us killed last time.”

     The four boarded the bus in silence, ignoring the few white kids that made snide comments or spat slurs.  “They’ve run out of original material.  Ain’t that a bite,” Wonwoo said under his breath.  

     “The fuck did you just say?” one blonde haired boy asked.

   “You heard me.”  

    Before the blonde boy could answer, the bus door opened again and a girl with warm brown skin and coiled black hair walked on, clutching a few grocery bags to her chest.  By the time she made it halfway to the back, the four Asian boys had become old news.  Even more people shouted at her while making obscene hand gestures, but she simply kept her eyes on the back window.  

     S. Coups’ eyes followed her from the moment she stepped on until the moment she sat down at the back of the bus.  He scanned over her features before moving down her body, only to be interrupted by a pluck on the head snapping him out of his trance.  

     “What are you looking at?” Vernon asked.

   “Huh? Oh, nothing,” S. Coups replied, pulling a lollipop out of his pocket and unwrapping it.

   “You were lookin’ at that black chick, weren’t you?” Mingyu said, already knowing the answer.  

    “Maybe so,” he shrugged, popping the candy into his mouth.  

     “You’re keen on a black girl?” Wonwoo asked.  

    “My god, guys, she’s black not a fuckin’ leper.  And yeah, I mean…She’s beautiful, and she’s-“  

  “Black.  She’s black, Coups,” Vernon interjected.  

    “You don’t like it when people judge the way you look, do you?” the eldest male reprimanded.

   “I’m not judging her, I’m just saying you’re asking for trouble.  Mrs. Choi would just about drop dead.”

   “Yeah, well you said that when I got my piercings and tattoos, but her heart’s still beatin’ ain’t it?”  

     The bus came to a sharp stop and their topic of discussion arose from her seat and walked towards the front of the bus to leave.  She made swift eye contact with S. Coups, and he swore on his great grandfather’s grave that she smiled at him.  He got up as she passed him and turned to look at his friends, giving them a salute and sideways smile.  

    “You’re joking,” Mingyu deadpanned.  

   “Nah, I’ll leave the jokes to you Bozos,” the oldest responded with a laugh before leaving the group.  He gave them a small wave as they rode by him and tossed the stick from his candy on the ground before turning around to find the girl struggling with one of her bags.  Rushing to her side, he used his hand to support the bottom of it, startling her a bit.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.  It just looked like you needed some help,” he smiled.  

    “…Thanks,” she hesitantly replied.

    “I can carry one if you want.  They look kind of heavy.”  

    “Thank you kindly, but I can handle it,” she said defiantly.  Taking another step forward, she tripped over a rock, causing an apple to fall from one of her bags.  S. Coups caught it and placed it back on top.  

    “You can handle it, huh?” he chuckled.  

    She stopped in her tracks and looked at him almost incredulously.  “Why are you being nice to me?”  

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”  She simply rolled her eyes with a scoff.  

    “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not like that.”  She searched his face for any sign of deception or dishonesty and couldn’t seem to find one, so she reluctantly allowed him to help her.  

     “You got a name?” he asked, walking beside her.  

    “Annabelle.”  

    “Annabelle; that’s pretty.  I like it,” he smiled at the way her name rolled off his tongue.

   “What’s yours?” she asked in response.  

    “Coups.  S. Coups.”  

    “What kind of name is that?” she giggled.  

    “It’s my kind of name.  What, you don’t like it?”  She shook her head, laughing at his mockingly offended expression.  “Well, my real name’s Seungcheol, but let’s keep that between us.  Only you can call me that.”  

    “Well, don’t I feel special.”

     “You definitely should,” he chuckled.

     “Hey, we’ve been walking for a bit. Not that I mind the extra time with you, but why’d you get off the bus so far from your block?”  

    “Bus doesn’t ride through black neighborhoods.  I ‘spose you ain’t too keen on walking through one, neither?”  

    “I’m keen on you, so I’d follow you anywhere,” he smirked.  

    “You ‘bout as slick as that grease you slather your hair in,” she laughed.

     About a block later, she stopped again.  “Well, there’s my place right on that corner.”  

    “You don’t want me to walk you to your door, do you?”

   She paused for a moment before answering, “My mama would kill me if you strolled up to the door.”

     “I can’t even be upset, since mine would do the same if she saw you.  It’s because I’m Korean, right?”  

    “No, she’d say you look like a hoodlum,” she began, gesturing towards his outfit.  “But yours would say the same about me, so I guess we’re even.” 

    “Albeit for a completely different reason,” he muttered, shoving one hand into his pocket.  “So, what if I wanna see you again?”  

    “Like when?” she asked.

     “Like all the time, but we can start with tonight,” he replied with a crooked smile.

     She bit her lip in thought and S. Coups took note of how pretty her lips were.  “My mama’s usually in bed by the time the street lights come on.”

     “Great, I’ll pick you up at eight thirty.”

     Annabelle sat on her bed, waiting and thinking about all the things that could go wrong.  But just as the list got too long, she remembered that smile of his.  Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was eight twenty-five.  She hopped up from her bed and took a look in the mirror, fluffing her hair and applying a coat of lip balm.  Then she quietly made her way downstairs and out the door. 

     S. Coups popped another lollipop out of his mouth to greet her.  “You made it!” he smiled.  

    “What, did you think I would punk out?”  

    “I don’t know, but from what you told me, your mama’s kind of intimidating.  A real ‘no bs’ kinda gal.”  

    “Well, she is, but she worked a double yesterday, so she’s knocked out.  I wouldn’t chance anything by staying out too late, though.”

     “Don’t worry.  I’ll have you home well before she wakes up for her next shift.  Quick question…You afraid of motorcycles?”  

     “Careful, Sweetheart.  You hold me any tighter and I just might propose,” S. Coups laughed.

 “I wouldn’t be holding you so tight if you weren’t driving like a bat out of hell,” Annabelle replied, voice cracking when they hit a speed bump.  

    “Sorry ‘bout that. I hope your eyes are open, though, since you’re supposed to be giving me directions.”  

    “Oh, right…,” she muttered, opening her eyes to take a look around.  “Make a left at the next corner.”

     After a few more minutes, the vehicle came to a stop in a dimly lit neighborhood.  S. Coups got off the bike, locking it into place before offering a hand to his date.  Normally, she would have declined, but she was still a bit dizzy, so she accepted the gesture.  

    “Where are we?” he asked.  

    “You’ll see,” she smiled, tugging him down a small hill to a slightly worn-down building.

     She knocked on the door and waited a few seconds before someone opened an eye level slot.  

    “Password?” questioned the pair of dark brown eyes.

    “SlimJim,” she answered confidently.  The door opened to reveal a black boy around their age.  He smiled at her but gave S. Coups a strange look as she pulled him through the room and down a flight of stairs to what he figured was the basement. The room was packed with black kids, all dancing and having a good time, the jukebox blasting the latest tunes.  A few came to greet Annabelle, and he got a couple stares every now and then, but overall, nobody paid him much attention.  

  ��  Unwrapping a lollipop, he watched in amusement as she got pulled to the middle of the dance floor by two of her friends.  She was one hell of a dancer, and quite the social butterfly; he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She made everyone around her smile…including him.  

     “You aren’t gonna stand here all night, are you?” she asked, jogging back over to him during a song change.

   “I’m not much of a dancer,” he replied, shifting the candy to one side of his mouth as he leaned against a table.

   “That doesn’t matter to me. I brought you here to have fun.”  

    “I don’t know…,” he trailed off, contemplating whether he wanted to embarrass himself or not.

   “C’mon, Candy Man.  It’s just one dance,” she teased, gently tugging on the front of his shirt.

   “One dance?”

   “That’s all I want.  Besides, I’m sure that’s all you could handle,” she smirked.

  “Oh, really?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.  

    Crossing her arms, she replied, “Mhm.”  Without breaking eye contact, he slid his leather jacket off and placed it over a chair.  Taking a few steps back, she beckoned to him with her finger, that same playful smirk still gracing her features.

     “So, I was that bad, huh?” he asked as they walked back up the hill.

   “What?  No, of course not.  Why would you think that?”

  “Your friends were laughing.  They thought I was a total spaz, didn’t they?”  

  “…Well, yeah, but they thought you were a cute spaz,” she giggled.

   “I’ll take it.”

     Noticing a slight chill shake her shoulders, he wordlessly took off his jacket and draped it over them.  She simply smiled, knowing it was pointless to try to convince him that she didn’t need it.  “Thanks.”  

    “Don’t mention it,” he replied, nonchalantly sticking another lollipop into his mouth.

   “I swear you always got one of them suckers hangin’ from your mouth.”  

    “Better than a cig.  I quit a while back” he shrugged.

   “Can’t argue with that.  My friend told me kissing a boy who smokes is like kissing an ash tray,” she said, slightly leaning on his bike.  

    “Oh, really?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he stepped closer to her.  

    “Mhm,” she mused, gently pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.  After looking into her eyes for a moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss.  

     “What did that taste like?” he asked as he pulled away.

   “…Candy,” she smiled.  “What did it taste like to you?”  

  “Heaven,” he smirked, causing her to laugh and playfully roll her eyes.

 “These things must be the reason you do all that sweet talkin’,” she said, holding it out to him.

   He plucked it from her fingers and responded, “Maybe so,” before popping it back into his mouth.    

     Realizing that it was getting really late, S. Coups decided to take Annabelle home.  After a short ride back, he insisted on dropping her off at her door since everyone was asleep, anyway.  

     She took off the jacket and went to hand it to him, but he just raised his hand to stop her.  “Give it back to me on our second date.”

   “And what makes you think you’re getting a second date?” she inquired, folding her arms as her lips tilted into a smirk.

   “That kiss,” he said without hesitation, biting his bottom lip as he watched a blush tint her cheeks. 

     “Well, you have until then to practice your dance moves,” she quickly recovered.  

  “Will do.  Next weekend; you, me, and that dance floor.”  

  “Will I see you again before that?”

   “I’ll be around.  Why, would you miss me?” he teased.

     “No,” she scoffed, folding her arms.  

    “Well, that’s a shame, ‘cuz I’d miss you,” his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as he spoke.

    “Sweet as candy; slick as grease,” she chuckled, shaking her head.  

    “Yeah, but you like it,” he smirked, leaning in again.

   “Maybe so,” she quipped, giving him a light peck on the lips.  

    He released her and said, “I should probably get out of here before the parentals notice I’m still out.  Goodnight, Sweetheart.”  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out yet another lollipop and held it out to her.  With a grin and a light laugh, she accepted it.  

    “Goodnight, Candy Man.”

     “So, nothing happened?” Wonwwo asked.  

    “Nothing,” S. coups answered, tossing a white stick on the ground.  

    “Look at that shit-eatin’ grin!  He’s fuckin’ lyin’!” Mingyu laughed.  

     The four boys stopped at the produce cart again a few days later.  No matter how much poking and prodding his three friends did, they couldn’t get S. Coups to describe his night with his new love interest.  

     “Aye, Mr. Jung!  Can I get one of them roses over there, please?” he asked the owner.

   “Sure can.  For a special lady, I assume?”  The young boy simply winked and tossed a coin to the elderly man.  

    “Thanks, Mr. Jung,” he said before continuing to walk towards the bus stop.

     “’Nothing happened’ my ass!  Tell us what went down!” Vernon snickered, pushing his friend’s arm.

     “It’s none of your fuckin’ business,” S. Coups chuckled, pulling another piece of candy from his pocket.

     “So, explain how you ended up bringin’ that Chinese boy to the Juke,” Denise playfully demanded, leaning over the convenience store counter.

  “He’s not Chinese.  He’s Korean,” Annabelle absentmindedly replied as she flipped through a magazine. 

  “Whatever he is, he sure as hell can’t dance to save his life,” her friend laughed.  Annabelle rolled her eyes and closed the magazine before placing it back in the rack.

   “He can’t dance just because he can’t dance; not because he’s Asian.  And if you must know, we met on the bus.  He helped me with my groceries and walked me home.”  

     “Like all the way home?” her friend inquired.

   “Well…’til about a block away from home, which was close enough.”

     “Yeah, close enough for your mama not to catch you with some Chinese boy dressed like a hoodlum,” Denise snorted as she started restocking the candy on the counter.  Annabelle gave her a dirty look and she raised her hands in a defensive position.  “My fault.  I meant Korean.”

     S. Coups smiled to himself, twirling the rose between his fingers as he walked down the street.

   “So, now that the kids are gone, are you gonna tell me what happened with that black chick?” Wonwoo asked nonchalantly, closing his book.

   “Nothing happened!” the raven-haired boy laughed in response.

   “Then what’s got you smiling like an idiot?”

     He paused for a minute, biting his bottom lip.  “She’s amazing, Man,” he all but gushed.

   “So, something did happen!  She was that good of a shag?”

   “What?  No, we didn’t…We didn’t have sex.”

   “So, what the hell did you do?” the younger asked bluntly.  

    “We went dancing.”  

    The younger male looked at him incredulously.  “You?  Dancing?”

     “He really got you sprung, huh?” Denise smiled, resting her chin on her hand.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say sprung…”  

  “I would.  I ain’t seen you this happy since your mama let you stop getting perms,” she laughed.

   “He’s just really really…sweet,” she grinned, glancing down at the candy next to the register. “Hey, Denise, gimme two of them candy pops right there.”

     “Sounds pretty damn nifty,” Wonwoo smiled, sitting down on his stoop.

     S. Coups leaned against the railing and nodded.  “It was.”  

     The two watched as a Korean couple a little older than them walked by holding hands, and S. Coups couldn’t help but smile a little wider at the thought of being like that one day.  Wonwoo frowned a bit, noticing the dreamy look in his friend’s eyes.  

     “You know it won’t be that easy, right?”

     “Yeah…I know,” he replied, plucking a thorn off the rose.

     Wind chimes could be heard over the soft hum of the radio as the convenience store’s door opened.  “Hello.  How can I help….you?,” Denise trailed off as she looked up to see Seungcheol standing at the front of the store. 

    “Hi…I’m looking for Annabelle he said hesitantly, recognizing Denise as one of her friends from the party.

   “She’s uh…She’s in the back room.  She’ll be out in a second,” she replied, still a little surprised that he ventured out to their neighborhood. 

     “You’ll be around, huh?” Annabelle mocked, one eyebrow slightly raised as she came from the back room carrying more magazines.  He smiled at her and shrugged as she placed the books on the counter.

   “I happened to be in the neighborhood.”

   “Considering most people avoid this neighborhood, I find that hard to believe,” she joked, walking over to him.  

     “Alright, so maybe I just wanted to see you,” he admitted with another crooked smile, handing her the flower.  

    “Maybe?” she asked.  

  “Alright, so I definitely wanted to see you,” he corrected himself with a light laugh.

     “Thank you, Seungcheol.  It’s beautiful,” she admired the rose.

 “Not as beautiful as you.”  Denise rolled her eyes behind them, pretending not to listen as she counted her till. 

     “Oh, I got you something, too,” Annabelle beamed, pulling a lollipop out of her pocket.  He chuckled and took it from her.  

    “Sweet,” he grinned, unable to fight the light blush that dusted over his cheeks and nose.

   “Not as sweet as you,” she cooed, placing her hand on his cheek.  

     “Well, you’re both about to give me a cavity.  Could y’all take this little love connection somewhere else?,” Denise teased, shutting the cash register.    

     “Sorry about my friend, Denise. She don’t mean no harm,” Annabelle spoke quietly as the two of them walked down the block. 

  “She’s funny.  Reminds me of my friend, Mingyu.  Hopefully you’ll be able to meet him and the others soon.”

     She gave him an unsure look and he reached down and grabbed her hand.  “They’ll like you; I’m sure of it,” he assured her.   As he looked down at their joined hands, he thought of the couple he saw earlier that day and smiled.

     “What’s got you grinnin’ like a Cheshire cat?” she giggled.  

    He laughed and shook his head.  “Nothin’ in particular.  Being with you just makes me happy, that’s all.”

     Before she could reply, she heard murmuring from across the street.  Looking over, she noticed two black women whispering to each other while staring.  “Oh, no,” she sighed.  

    “What’s wrong?”

   “Nothing.  It’s just one of my mama’s co-workers over there mindin’ our business.”  

     He quickly let go of her hand.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to get you into any trouble.”

   “You didn’t,” she smiled genuinely, intertwining her fingers with his again.  “Let ‘em stare and whisper all they want.  I’m sure my mama would’ve found out eventually anyway.”

     S. Coups thought for a moment before speaking.  “Hey, wanna get out of here?”

  “And go where?”  

    “My side of town.”

   “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…,” she trailed off.  

  “Nobody’s gonna fuck with us; trust me.  You do trust me, right?”

     She indulged in the nervous habit of chewing her bottom lip before nodding with an equally nervous smile.

     “Just a little bit further,” S. Coups grinned, gently tugging her along.  They passed another group of trees before coming to a clearing.  Annabelle took note of how beautiful it was.  Flowers of every color, lush grass as far as the eye could see, a small pond of sparkling blue water- she had never seen anything so pure. 

     “This place is amazing!  How did you find it?” she asked once they sat down.

 “I didn’t.  My father did like twenty-something years ago.  Used to bring my mother here back when they were dating.”

 “How romantic,” she smiled, looking over the landscape.

  “What can I say?  I learned from the best,” he smirked, causing her to roll her eyes.  

     He laid back and rested his head on his arms as he continued to speak.  “My parents would just lay here, looking at the clouds and talking for hours.”

 “About what kinda stuff, if you don’t mind me asking?” she inquired, gently running her fingers through his hair.  After about the third time, she felt grease accumulate on her fingers and decided to stop.  

     “Wait, why’d you stop?” he asked in an almost offended tone, clearly disappointed.

 “I just remembered that you dunk your head in a vat of Crisco every day,” she laughed, showing him her hand.

 “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”  He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her before letting his hand rest on the ground.  

  Wiping her fingers off, she urged him to continue.  “Back to your parents.”

     “Right…..They just talked about everything, I guess.  My pops said they talked a lot about living the American dream.  Y’know, nice house, nice car, white picket fence.  An apartment, a hoopdie, and a barbed wire fence is what they ended up with, though,” he laughed humorlessly as he stared at the sky.  

     Laying down beside him, she supported her head with one arm and said, “America seems more like a nightmare than a dream to me.”

 “I’m sure I can understand why.”  

  “What do you think of it here?”  

    “Personally?  It sucks…But I figure my parents came here for a reason and decided to stay for a reason…So it must be better than whatever they left behind.”  

     He felt her hand slide into his and smiled, looking over at her.  After a few seconds of him admiring her as she watched the clouds drift by, she finally turned to meet his eyes.  In their comfortable silence, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

     Annabelle slid into her house and closed the door as quietly as possible before tip-toeing through the corridor.  “Annabelle!”

     “Shit…,” she mumbled to herself.  “Yes, Mama?”

     “Come in here.  I need to speak with you.”

     She walked into the living room and sat down in front of her mother, waiting for her to initiate the conversation.  “What’s this I hear about you runnin’ round town with one of them little Asian hoodlum boys?”

   “He’s my friend, Mama.”

   “Your friend?  What kind of friend?”  

    “Just…a friend.”     

     S. Coups walked into his room, only to find his father waiting for him.  He sighed a bit, knowing a lecture was the only possible reason for him to be there.

     “Seungcheol, we must talk.  Now.”  S. Coups simply nodded and sat down on his bed.  “What’s this I hear about you bringing one of those colored girls around here?”

 “She’s my friend.”  

  “Your friend?  What kind of friend?”  

  “Just a friend.  I don’t know what else you want me to say, Dad,” S. Coups answered, avoiding eye contact.

 “I want you to tell me why you’re bringing your colored friend into our neighborhood.  You’re just asking for trouble,” Mr. Choi said, voice raising slightly.  

     S. Coups finally looked up at his father with a blank expression.  “Why do you call her colored?”

   “Because she is.”

   “Then what are we?”

   His father remained quiet for a moment.  

     “What are we, Dad?  We definitely aren’t white, no matter how much you want us to be, so what are we?” he asked in an almost harsh tone, though he kept in mind that he was still talking to his father.  

     Mr. Choi stood up from the desk chair and said, “We are trying to get by…and I don’t want you making that any harder than it already is,” before leaving the room.

     S. Coups felt his left leg bouncing in agitation as his father closed the door.  Reaching over to pull open his desk drawer, his eyes locked on a single cigarette.  After what felt like hours of contemplation, he closed the drawer before reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out the lollipop he’d gotten from Annabelle earlier that day, and unwrapping it with shaky hands.   

    A faint tapping against her window woke Annabelle from her already unsatisfying slumber.  With a light grumble, she got up and walked over to the dark frame before looking out and down.  Finding none other than Seungcheol standing there, pebbles in hand, she quickly backed away and yanked off the scarf that had been protecting her curls.  “Seungcheol Choi, what the hell are you doing?” she asked, amusement betraying her attempt at a scolding tone as she looked out again.

    “You’re a heavy sleeper.  I damn near threw a brick.”

    “That doesn’t sound like a hate crime at all,” she deadpanned.

    “You know what I meant.  Now are you gonna come down here or what?”

    “Why should I?” she inquired, folding her arms.  “It’s been over a week since I last saw you.”

    He sighed in defeat, running a hand through his hair before responding.  “I know, and I’m sorry.  Just—Just come down….please, Annie.”

    Hearing the remorse in his voice, she did what he asked and ventured downstairs and outside.  “You really shouldn’t be here in the middle of the night.”

    “I know, but I just had to see you.  And I know your mama’s out on her night shift, so I figured the timing was right” he shrugged sheepishly.

    She took a look around before grabbing his hand and pulling him inside.  “Come in, just in case.”

    Seungcheol’s eyes wandered throughout the living room, taking in all the pieces that held cultural significance.  Smiling at a picture of a bright-eyed girl with two puffballs atop her head, he asked, “Is this you?”

    Rolling her eyes, she walked over and turned the picture over, placing it face-down on the shelf.  “Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol.  You gone crazy?”

    “I’m crazy about you,” he replied in all sincerity, hand grasping hers.  “And I know everyone thinks we shouldn’t be together, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.”  She remained silent, eyes staring into his with no readable emotion, so he continued. “I….I threw out my last cig the other day, and I thought of you when I did it.”

    “Well, I’m glad you’re taking better care of yourself.”

    “That’s part of it,” he began, releasing her hand and stepping back to lean one shoulder against the wall.  “But I also couldn’t risk tasting like an ash tray the next time I got lucky enough to kiss you,” he finished, earning a soft giggle from her.

    “So, you came here after dark to tell me that?” she asked, tone lighthearted, but still mildly confused.

    “I came here because--” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts.  “I don’t know why I came here.  I was just sitting in my room thinking about all the bullshit I’ve been hearing over the last week and about how I let it keep me away from you…And I just needed to tell you that I don’t care anymore, about any of it.  All I care about is you,” he breathed, letting his words fall from his mouth in a jumbled mess.  

    She sighed heavily, crossing her arms again as she stepped closer.  “I’d be lying if I said people weren’t getting to me, too…But all I want is to be with you,” she timidly spoke, eyes finding his.

    Without another word, he pulled her into a deep kiss, taking the initiative to press her against the wall. Having missed the feeling of her coarse hair, he trailed one hand up from her face to gently twirl a lock around his finger as his other hand drifted to her back.  She couldn’t help but smile as her hands gripped the lapels of his leather jacket and tugged them down.  He released her momentarily to slide his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor.  

    Pulling about a centimeter away, he whispered, “I don’t know much about love, but I sure hope it feels something like this,” brushing his nose against hers.

    “Well, we got all the time in the world to figure it out.”

    “Just you and me?” he asked, eyes lidded.

    She nodded before pecking his lips once more.  “Just you and me.”

    “And if anybody says a fucking thing, you come get me, alright?” S. Coups said sternly, masking the worried feeling threatening to overtake him.  Annabelle nodded, giving him a nervous smile.  He unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it in his mouth as the two turned to face the doors of the school, which somehow seemed even larger than usual.  

    She laced her fingers between his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.  “Just you and me, Candy Man.”

    With a soft chuckle, he smiled and replied, “Just you and me, Sweetheart.”

[scratchedscraps-a]

@smollest-bot con’t

Sammy huffed out a sigh, gaze focused more on the ground while she spoke. He. He definitely didn’t expect this. And he’d finally mustered up enough confidence and guts to walk back into the diner downtown and make his way back into the Ro-Boys even if it took clawing and biting.

“Uh.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I. Really don’t know what to say, Trix. Bein’ friends sounds nice, but I don’t know.” He paused in a short attempt to unscramble his thoughts. “I... I told ya what I meant, an’ I meant what I told ya. Just walkin’ away like that? It hurt. A lot. An’ uh... I was actually gonna go to the diner today. An’ fight my way back in with the boys.” After all that, Sammy finally brought himself to look her in the face. “I don’t know, Trix. I’m sorry.”

[b-afterhours]

To Know Him (part eight)

summary: AU set in the summer of 1959 Gloria is desperate to see a world beyond the church and the small Texan town she grew up in. One day she runs into a bad boy with striking green eyes in the local greaser gang the Saint’s of Duke Street. She had only heard of their existence and shenanigans but upon meeting Bill she can tell he’s not as bad as everyone had warned…

warnings: cursing, domestic abuse

if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.

Bill sat at the soda bar, looking around the small General Store with appreciation. It had become a sanctuary for him and Gloria. And there was Harvey the only true adult in town that let them be and never questioned their relationship. Bill didn’t know too much about him other than that the General Store was his wife’s Eileen’s dream. He opened it with her and for her and maintained it even when she passed a near decade ago. Suddenly, Bill felt bad for taking collections from his business upon remembering that. Being a Saint could be pretty scummy sometimes, he couldn’t deny that.

“Uh hey Harvey,” Bill sat up on the bar stool.

“Need anything,” he paused from wiping down the soft serve machine.

“No, not until Gloria gets here… I just wanted to say thanks.”

“Thanks?” He tilted his head, looking a bit perplexed.

“Yeah, I’m leaving town in a few days, um, with Gloria. So I just wanted to say thank you for giving us a place to be...”

“Oh, well uh no problem?” He chuckled.

“I’m mean it’s just hard to be together in this town cause of who her dad is and who I am...”

“I understand. I’m not too fond of that guy either,” he said leaning on the bar across from him. “He’s always dragging on his tab here. But anyway, I left you two alone ‘cause my ol’ girl Eileen’s father didn’t like me so much,” he shrugged with a slight smirk on his face.

“Really,” Bill laughed.

“Yeah, I was a coal miners son and she was the daughter of the man who owned the mine. He wasn’t so keen on her taking a shine on me. But I took care of her, we moved here and I lived the best years of my life before her lungs gave out.”

“W-What was it? Sorry, shouldn’t ask.” Bill bit his lip.

“Oh, it’s been years. It was black lung. Doc’ said it might have been from growing up around the mines, who knows...” He took a deep breath. “Well, where are you and Gloria headed then?”

“Austin, she’s going to college,” he smiled. “I’m going to look for a mechanic job there. Luckily, Ace has some friends at a shop that can get me on.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Harvey nodded approvingly. “Just take care of her, it makes everything worth it. And life a lot easier.” …

On her last Monday in town, Gloria was back to work in the church. She planned to book it out of town by Thursday so that she could become somewhat acquainted with Austin before her college orientation. She had barely left the General Store after having lunch with Bill and she could tell that something was pressing him. His knee kept nervously bouncing and knocking into hers on accident and he’d fiercely apologized every time. He was certainly acting different but she chalked it up to the fact that it may be because this was their last week together.

She was locked out of her fathers' office since she’d been back. So she was stuck with the meaningless task of straightening out hymn books on the back of the church pews and lightly dusting with a damp rag. She could hear voices from inside her fathers' office but she couldn’t distinctly make anything out. She was never the nosy type anyway and really didn’t care to know about her father’s work affairs. Her complete indifference faded once she saw Rick step out and she froze for a moment. He politely tipped his hat to her before turning on his nice dress shoes with a knowing grin on his face as he left. She felt sick, she was sure she was busted. Pastor Castillo soon emerged, she glanced at him while pretending to be busy with dusting. She expected him to be angry, surely Marty’s father had come to tell her father all about seeing her and Bill strolling in the night together but he smiled at her appreciatively.

“Ready to go home, Glo’,” he asked just like he did every evening.

The drive home was stuffy and uncomfortable. She could feel that he knew something but he hadn’t said anything indicating so. In fact, he hadn’t spoken a single word until they turned the corner to Lyndon Street where she lived.

“I’ll be taking you to Mrs. Robins later this evening,” he said to her holding open the front door open when they got home.

“Okay, daddy,” she simply nodded but she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. …

When she rode with her dad that evening, the air around them in the car hadn’t changed. Her father didn’t speak a lot in general so she figured she was just paranoid. He’d have done something or said something to her by now if Marty’s dad truly ratted her out. Still, she couldn’t shake the look her mother had given her on her way out the door. She looked concerned almost fearful, her lips were slightly moving as if she were muttering a prayer under her breath.

“W-will you be picking me up too, daddy?” Gloria asked she was tired of the silence surrounding them.

“It’s going to rain. What kind of father would I be if I had you walk all the way home… Why?” He gave her a shifty glance.

“Just wondering...”

“Odd thing to wonder, hm.”

When he dropped her off she was glad to be away from him. The car ride was claustrophobic. He remained parked by the curb for awhile even after Mrs. Robins had left. She took care of the girls as she normally would while peeping out the blinds every now and again. He had finally left while she was making dinner but she still occasionally checked the empty curb space. When she looked nothing was out of the usual except for the rain clouds billowing into town.

When she got Katie and Greta to bed she cleaned the kitchen almost spotless due to her anxiousness. Her flight sense was kicked in since she saw Rick at church. She thought about calling Bill to tell him not to show up, that it was too risky. But it would be of no use, he was most likely on his way already. …

Bill and V were out late picking up collections that same evening. He kept an eye on the clock tower knowing he needed to head over to Mrs. Robins by now. Besides he was tired of his litter brother teasing him for not proposing to Gloria during lunch like he told the rest of the Saint’s he would. His nerves were beginning to get the better of him.

“Hey, I need to go,” Bill said flicking his cigarette in the street.

“We still have the General Store?”

“No. We’re not collecting for Harvey anymore,” he said lifting a leg over his bike.

“What? Did Ace tell you something I don’t know?”

“No, I said so.” V scoffed at his order. Bill didn’t have the authority to make such rules in the first place. “I’m serious. Leave the man alone, even after I leave. And you can tell Ace that too.”

“I’m not telling him shit! When I’m short next month I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll send his share through the post then,” he said kicking his bike stand back and taking off.

When he arrived at Mrs. Robins street he hopped off his bike and pushed it the rest of the way worried about the noise. He gently set it to the side of the porch where Gloria’s bike was usually set but it wasn’t there tonight. He had barely knocked on the door when it swung open and Gloria grabbed the lapel of his leather jacket pulling him inside.

“Did anyone see you come here?” She said peeping out the blinds.

“No?” His brows pulled together. “Something wrong?”

Gloria shook her head. “No… I-I’m just losing it. Maybe...”

“Well you and me both,” he lightly laughed.

“What do you mean?” She said taking his hand and guiding him over to the couch.

“Oh… uh, I’ve been thinking about some things,” he bit his lip. He could feel his heart beating against his chest. “But uh first, did you call admissions and stuff?” He asked feeling silly for buying time but he had to settle his nerves somehow.

“Yeah, I have everything in order. Are you still driving me to the bus station in Waco?”

“About that, I was thinking, maybe, I could just take you all the way to Austin? And we can stay in a small motel until we find a house?”

Gloria’s face scrunched in a puzzled expression. “A house? What are you talking about?” She giggled still confused.

“I would like to go with you to Austin.”

Gloria’s eyes lit up, her jaw slightly dropped. “You’re really going to come with me?”

Bill nodded. “Only if you want me too.”

“Of course!” She threw her arms around him. “Oh, this is the best news I’ve heard all day,” she mumbled against his chest. “I was so worried about being on my own.”

“But uh I also wanted to ask you something else...” he paused. Gloria pulled away wondering what else on earth he could ask her. “I know Mrs. Robins isn’t the best place to ask but I really can’t wait any longer...” he dug into his inner jacket pocket and fished for the ring under his pack of smokes. “I really love you, Gloria. So don’t think I’m crazy for asking.”

“Crazy?” She laughed but it cut short when she saw the sparkling ruby on the ring Bill was holding up. She stared at it wide glassy eyes. She looked between it and Bill, his brows furrowed and the lines in his young face looked more defined than usual.

“W-Will you marry me, Gloria Esperanza Castillo? If shit goes to shit at least we’ll have each other, married, husband and wife?”

Gloria sat there stunned, her mouth open but words were difficult to choke out. “I uh… really?”

“I’m more serious than a heart attack right now,” his said, his eyes begging her to say yes already.

“That’s, quite the proposal-” she was interrupted by a hard knock on the front door. Alarmed, Gloria jumped up. “Come, hide behind the door,” she pulled him to his feet and had him stand to the side of the door where it could shield him. When she answered Marty was panting out of breath as if she ran a mile. Bill was in his own world staring at the ring still in his hand, Gloria hadn’t even said yes and he wasn’t sure if she was even going to.

“Gloria! You need to go home!” Marty barged in.

“Shhh. The girls are sleeping,” she said not catching on to the urgency she was still slightly in shock over Bill’s proposal.

“I’ll take care of them you need to go.”

Bill stepped out from behind the door, “What the hell is going on Marty?”

“Damn Bear, all these frights tonight are going to kill me!”

“Marty, what is going on?” Gloria asked as panic finally set in.

“I overheard my dad talking to your dad on the phone so I picked up the line in the kitchen to eavesdrop. Your dad was askin’ him if he was positive about seeing you and Bear a couple of days ago and all that. Made Greg drive me by your place and we could hear your parents arguing and all sorts of noise,” Marty paused to take a deep breath after regurgitation all that she knew. “You have to go now! Greg is outside in his truck, he’ll take you. I’m so sorry Gloria, my dad can be a real asshole.”

“You’re saying!” Bill said angrily, running a hand through his hair.

“C’mon Gloria,” Marty said pulling her out the house and into the drizzle that had started to lightly fall. “I’ll stay and take care of the Robins girls.”

Gloria turned her head as she was being shoved out, “Billie?”

“Duke Street! I’ll be home waiting up,” he told hollered to her. “It’s going to be okay.” At least he hoped so.

“Marty, stop. Wait,” she pushed her hands off and sprinted back up the porch crashing into Bill. “Yes!” She tugged on his jacket and on her tip toes kissed him. “If shit goes to shit right?” She whispered against his lips. “Hold on to the ring. I’ll see you soon!” She said sprinting off to Greg’s truck.

“Yes? Ring?” Marty tilted her head, suspiciously.

Bill shook his head, he was happy as hell but with everything else going on he needed to stay focused. He got on his bike and loudly revved it up.

“I’m marrying that girl, Marty,” he yelled over her engine.

Marty laughed. “You two better start running for the hills!” …

Gloria closed her eyes, bracing herself before stepping into her home. Along with the thunder and trickling rain, she could hear yelling and hysterics from her mother from the other side of the door. There was no more hiding, no more lies to tell. She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob slowly. Her mother was crying and yelling at her father who looked at her with his face twisted in anger. Her bike which she kept hidden was inside by the door and the things in her small tote were thrown about. The radio smashed by the fireplace, her dresses and bible were haphazardly dumped on the couch. Gloria slammed the door behind her announcing her presence, they were so busy yelling they hadn’t even noticed her.

“Gloria,” her mother gasped. “Honey,” she wiped her cheeks dry, “go to your room please,” she pointed towards the hall.

“Why are all my things out here?” She questioned.

“Excuse me?” Her father said. “I should ask you where the rest of your things that are from your room are?”

“Robert stop,” her mother put her hands on his chest to calm him but he swiped them away.

“I asked you a question, Gloria? And what are these things, huh?” He picked up the smashed radio and slammed it on the floor again causing the dial to shoot off across the floor. “And this bike? Who fixed this?”

“Robert, please. Gloria just got to your room,” her mother pleaded.

“Gloria answer me! Who fixed this bike!?”

Gloria froze. She wanted to scream, she didn’t have anything particular to say, she just wanted to yell but she couldn’t, she suddenly felt too small. Too many years of obedience and fear kept her from defending herself.

“So you’re not going to talk?” He threw his arms out angrily. “Was it that Saint boy? Bear or whatever? Are you talking to him? He fixed this didn’t he?”

“Oh for god's sake leave her be,” her mother said taking Gloria’s hand to take her to her room.

“Estella don’t you dare. She needs to answer me,” he grabbed his wife by the arm and pulled her away from their daughter. “She’s up to something.”

Gloria snapped her head back at him, “And so what if I am?! I don’t need to answer your questions, you seem to know everything since you went through my things!”

Her father’s eyes fluttered appalled at his daughters' tone towards him. “Th-that boy has gotten into your head! You’re not even yourself!” Spittle spewed as he shouted. “And where is your stuff? Are you planning to leave us? Your mother and father? You’re our only little girl.”

“I’m not your little girl. I’ve been more myself than I’ve ever been,” Gloria said smoothly, her voice unwavering.

“Gloria,” her mother cried, cowering by the fireplace now.

Her father chuckled darkly. “If you think you are leaving this house, ever again you are sorely mistaken. You will not see that Saint boy again, you hear me?”

“I beg to differ,” she said through her teeth as she seethed. She could only see her father in through the glare of tears that built out of anger.

“You will NOT see that boy again or so help me!” He said backing her against the corner of the room. “You are staying here and that’s it!”

“I’m leaving, I’m going to college. And I’m not sorry about it,” she stood her ground.

“After I’ve told you no? What has the devil done to you?”

“Devil? It’s you! If you would have let me be myself I wouldn’t have to go lying and sneaking around! I can’t even breathe wrong in this house without feeling like I’ve done something wrong! Can’t you see that it’s you!?”

“How dare you?” He was floored.

“Robert, stop this!” Estella yelled, finally gaining confidence. “Tell her… tell her why you won’t let her go to school...”

“Estella, stay out of this,” he turned his head towards her.

“Tell her what you did with all of our money! Her college fund, our mortgage! Tell her you gambled it all. She deserves the truth before you go making everything worse.”

“Gambling?” Gloria whispered looking up at her father, shame and embarrassment shadowing his face. “The barbershop,” she shook her head.

“Gloria…” he choked. “This-”

She pushed her way out of the corner he backed her into and rushed to the couch for her tote. Shoving her bible and clothes back in. “If you had bothered to open my acceptance letter, you’d have seen I have a full ride,” she said as tears spilled from her eyes. “But you wouldn’t have cared about that either. I don’t need your money, you don’t have any to begin with.”

Robert stomped towards Gloria violently pulling her arm and spinning her around to face him. His other hand was open, Gloria shut her eyes tight bracing for the blow of his slap but it never came. She cracked open her eyes and saw that her mother quickly twisted his arm back. Before he could push her mother to the ground she hit him in the temple with a half-empty bottle of gin. The women of the house both screamed when he hit the wood floor, knocked out cold.

“Get your things, Gloria. Hurry,” Estella said out of breath.

Gloria had no time to process what had just transpired in the shuffle. She picked up the ruined radio on the way to her bike and dropped her tote in the basket Bill at welded to the front of it and swung the door open. She turned her head back to the mess, her home, her mother taking a sip of the gin she just hit her husband in the head with.

“Mama?” Gloria cried.

“Gloria, just go. Go to him.”

And so Gloria ran with her bike to the sidewalk before hopping on. And she pedaled hard, the rain now pelting down, as she rode her bike to Duke Street.

 PART NINE

tags: @imaginingyournotsolikelyfuture @bskarsgardfilth @billieskars@skrsgards @kikilikes @mixtapes-books@partypoison00 @fine-i-suppose@shannonxbarnes @darthdeziewok @kyralangdon @sexual-rendezvous   @trybeingabitch  @bill-skarsgard-writings @reinamysterio@mazarinqueen @fine-i-suppose@therealzoeyael @darthdeziewok @skarswhat @pennytdc@bskarsgardlove92 @frappylou @mixtapes-books @spacemerlady@stardustginger @lilzbean

(please let me know whether you’d like to be added/removed from tags)

[brie-n-kat-write]

Freedom Part 2 (Greaser!Peter Parker x Reader AU)

Request: hi doll i was wondering if i could request a kinda greaser!peter parker au? like he saves you from your dick boyfriend and idk fluffy shit lmao sorry if this prompt sucks

Read part 1 here

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had trouble getting inspired. But, here it is, I hope it’s not too terrible!

- Written by Kat - 

When Peter finally stopped, pulling the motorcycle into a parking structure attached to a small apartment building, you were half asleep. Your arms were wound tightly around his waist, your body pressed against his back, loving the warmth that radiated from him. Coming to a space next to the stairwell door, Peter stopped the bike, kicking out the stand, before carefully pulling away from you and climbing off the bike. You groaned at the absence of warmth, the cold night air washing over you. You pulled Peter’s jacket tighter around you, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You looked around curiously; you had never been in this part of the city. Your father had always told you nothing came from this side of town but trouble.

“Where are we?” you asked, stretching your arms above your head, a yawn escaping you. Peter chuckled, shoving his keys in his pocket and turning to face you.

“We,” he began, a small smile quirked his lips, bringing his arms around your waist to gently lift you off of the bike, “are home.” Setting you on your feet, he immediately took his arms from around you, but took your hand instead, pulling you to the apartment entrance. From what you had heard you father say about the buildings in this area, you expected the interior of the complex to be dark and hostile. Instead, you were met with a pleasant warmth and the smell of home cooked food. Despite the building being shared by multiple tenants, the atmosphere was more like one large home - welcoming and safe.

You followed behind Peter as he lead you up the stairs and through the building. In your drowsy mind, you thought about how nice it would be to live here, with all of these people, unlike how you lived now, alone, in a big house on the upper East Side. You also thought about how nice it was to hold Peter’s hand, though it was just to lead you through the halls, you thought about how warm his hand was around yours and how gently he led you, like you were delicate. It was so different than how Jake would hold your hand - not at all controlling or oppressive. You were jostled from your thoughts when Peter came to a stop outside one of the apartments. The number of the door read “APT. 216.” A screw at the top of the ‘2’ had come off, so the number tilted slightly to the right.

Peter bent down and picked up what looked like a rock from beside the “Welcome” mat. You watched as he flipped it over, taking a key out of the back. You felt a laugh bubble in your throat at the irony of it. Bringing a hand up to hide you smile, you raised an eyebrow at Peter.

“You use a fake rock… in an apartment building?” Peter glanced at you, a light blush on his cheeks, and chuckled sheepishly.

“I know it’s silly, it was my aunt’s idea.” Peter responded, inserting the key and unlocking the door before returning it to its rock. Before he opened the door, he paused and looked at you for a moment. “ Speaking of, she is probably asleep, so we should try and keep quiet.” You nodded in understanding, miming zipping your lips and throwing away the key. Peter smiled again and pushed open the door, pulling you in before silently closing the door. Stepping into the apartment, you were overwhelmed by the smell of pastries and cookies, you couldn’t explain it but it was the type of smell you wanted to wrap yourself up in and never leave. You looked around, noting all the pictures on the walls of Peter and - who you assumed was - his aunt.

Locking the door, Peter turned and took your hand again, quietly making his way to the kitchen. He had told Aunt May he would be home by 10. Glancing at the clock it read 12:45 AM. He was so dead. He was thankful she was already asleep, he didn’t know how she would react to him bringing a girl home in the middle of the night, but he could assume it wouldn’t be good. Making his way through the kitchen in the dark, he made his way to the fridge, planning on getting some ice for his hands, and (Y/N)’s face. His plan was to have (Y/N) hide in his room, then in the morning he would sneak her out, then wear gloves for the next couple days to hide the bruises on them. Aunt May hated it when he got into fights.

Reaching the fridge, Peter grasped for the freezer handle, then suddenly the room was flooded in light. Hissing slightly at the sudden brightness, he turned to the entry way and saw who had turned them on. Standing in the doorway was a very tired looking Aunt May. She stood in her robe, with her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers drumming on her bicep, the unspoken irritation evident. From where she stood, Aunt May couldn’t see you hidden slightly behind Peter and the fridge.

“Nice of you to join me, Peter.” she said, the anger laced in her words as clear as day. Peter swallowed thickly, feeling (Y/N) squeeze his hand. Aunt May’s slipper clad foot began to tap inpatiently on the floor as she waited for Peter to speak.. She narrowed her eyes, as if daring him to make an excuse. Pulling himself together, Peter tried to give an innocent smile. One wrong word and he was done for.

“Hi, Aunt May! I was just uh…” he trailed off dumbly, searching for a way out of this. Her fingers stopped drumming on her arm and her foot fell still as Aunt May let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and rolling her neck from side to side, trying in vein to ease the tension in her shoulders. She ran a hand over her face, seeming too tired to fight with Peter right now. The smile on Peter’s face fell away, noticing the bags the hung under her bloodshot eyes, he realized just how tired she must be. She had stayed up waiting for him, even though she had work the next day.

“I’m sorry Aunt May. I just… I got caught up in something…” he reached up to rub the back of his neck feeling extremely guilty. As he brought his hand up, Aunt May caught sight of the fresh cuts and bruises on them. Uh oh… wrong move.

“What did I tell you about fighting, young man?!” she half-heartedly scolded him. Peter’s eyes widened, realizing his mistake and quickly burying his hand in his pocket. He opened his mouth to try and explain, but Aunt May quickly cut him off, raising her hand. “Save it! I tell you time and time again, you need to stay away from those boys! Something bad could happen! I don’t need to lose you too!” She walked forward, continuing her rant. “One day someone is going to get seriously-” When her eyes fell on (Y/N), she noticed her bruised face and busted lip; the anger drained out of her, replaced with concern. “Hurt…” she glanced at Peter, who was looking down at his shoes, then back to you. She took in the blood and dirt maring your pink dress and the large leather jacket that covered your arms before finally landing on yours and Peter’s intertwined fingers. She couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Aunt May this is (Y/N).” Peter introduced you, keeping his head bowed. Fear boiled in the pit of your stomach. You were scared of what she would do. You had no right to be here in her home, especially at this time of night. Glancing at Peter, you took a step forward, feeling that it was unfair for Peter to take the blame for a fight that was your fault.

“I’m sorry Ms. Parker, I was in trouble, and Peter-he helped me.” Tears pricked at your eyes and your voice shook slightly as you spoke ”I-I didn’t mean to involve him, it’s just my boyfriend, he-he was-” Aunt May shook her head, smiling gently and quietly shushing you.

“You don’t need to explain, dear.” The kind smile she offered you chased away your fear. She stepped forward and reached a hand out, cupping the side of your face, her eyes searching over the damage. “The important thing is that you’re both okay.” Her gentle touch soothed your rattled nerves. Removing her hand, she opened the freezer and took out two ice packs, tossing one to Peter, who caught it with one hand, and placing the other in your hand. She smiled once again and chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.” She gestured to her robe and slippers, “I would have worn something more presentable if someone would have told me we were having company.” She shot a look at Peter, who smiled sheepishly.

“It wasn’t exactly planned Aunt May.” Peter said. She only rolled her eyes, taking a step back she looked over the two of you again.

“Well, there is no helping it now.” She sighed before offering you another kind smile. “Is there anyone I need to call dear? Your parents? To let them know you're okay?” She asked. You blushed, pressing the ice pack to your swollen lip.

“My parents are out of town, there is no one at home.” You answered, praying she wouldn’t make you go home to that place, absent of warmth. The idea of being alone right now rattled you.

“Well, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Aunt May offered, leaning back against the fridge. “I don’t like the idea of you alone after something like this.”

“Me neither…” you heard Peter mumble under his breath, giving your hand another squeeze. Relief washed over you, the fear of being alone was enough to make you dizzy. With everything that happened, you were sure Jake would be coming after you, and he knew where you lived.

“Thank you ma'am, I promise I won’t be any trouble.” Aunt May waved away your concerns, yawning.

“Don’t worry about it dear, if you need anything just ask Peter. I’m going to bed, I have an early shift in the morning.” She grumbled, shuffling over and giving Peter a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight Peter, goodnight (Y/N).” She mumbled, walking out of the kitchen. Suddenly, you felt beyond tired, like you could sleep for days. Glancing at Peter, you caught his eye, causing the both of you to smile. He gently rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, a small blush on his cheeks.

“Welcome home.”

Part 3: Here

[scratchedscraps-a]

@smollest-bot con’t

Sammy grinned when he felt her kiss his forehead, keeping a smirk as she walked towards the door. “Ow ow! Sammy boy’s gotta date tonight! How far ya gonna go, huh?” “Oh, shove it, ya spaz. Don’t ya dare come try’n bug us, how ‘bout it?”

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other adjusting a hat he snuck from his older brother (to feign a fatherly look), he beeped the car horn twice to signal he was outside ready to pick Trixie up. Approaching the door would be... helplessly tragic to say the least.

[scratchedscraps-a]

“You. Me. Date night. What do you say?” (Greaser au >:3c)

He leaned over the cafeteria table, looking more than eager. “I been waitin’ for you t’ say that. How ‘bout tonight? The bowlin’ alley?”