Warnings: Mild swearing, social anxiety, butt slapping mentions of alcohol, and violence
Request: (Anon) :I thought you were my friend so I slapped your ass in greeting AU please!
A/N: At first I didn’t think I’d be able to do this one, but I totally fell in love with it and it all game together. I love this one so much. As for the anon, that brought up our faults in our schedules, I’m really sorry. We are really going to try and stick to the schedule this week, unlike last week which was awful. Enjoy!
“Excuse me, excuse me.” you whispered as you tried to navigate the crowd. Your friends had abandoned you and you were left in a terrifying crowd of punks. You were sure that they were all nice once you got to know them, but they were intimidating from the outside, and you could barely speak because you were choked up with fear.
You shifted with the long line to the concert. You popped in your earbuds and tried to calm down and listen to some music. You texted your friends, begging for them to come back or at least take you home.
They were your ride, and as of now, you would have to find a way home. You frowned when you glanced down at your battery. It was already below 50%. You envisioned yourself in the worst possible scenario, getting thrown into the mosh pit, suffocating from beer, smoke, body heat, and of course social anxiety.
At the thought of this, you turned up the music a little louder, trying to drown out your thoughts. It was getting dark and the concert was about to begin. You had no idea what you were going to do. You considered hiding and crying in a restroom for majority of the concert and hope your phone had enough battery to call someone to pick you up.
“Hey, sexy!” you felt a swift slap across your butt.
Your face instantly turned red. Every part of your body turned red hot. Anxiety coursing through your veins. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your stomach dropped.
“Ohmygod!” you turned around to see a man, completely red staring at his hand and back at you. “Ohmygod. I am so sorry. I thought you were-I-I.”
You stared at disbelief at the man. He was short and had curly dark hair, that poofed under his red baseball cap. The cap was torn and frayed on the edges with a bit of sweat around the bill. His freckles were like stars compared to his red tomato face.
“I am so so so so sorry! I thought you were my friend and I-”
“Your girlfriend?” you blurted out.
“What? No. My boy-I mean my best friend. Alex. Alexander Hamilton? He’s about yeah high,” he waved the air just below his neck, “full of angst, anger, long dark hair but smooth. Kinda like mine but straight.”
“What? Excuse me?”
You blushed. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to…” you looked down and tried to avoid his eyes.
“What’s so funny?” he asked in a joking tone.
“Nothing, it’s just… you started out saying boyfriend, then you said he was straight and you said you have curly hair-which I mean you do, it’s beautiful-but then it was like the implied joke that you know you aren’t straight and ohmygod I’ll shut up. I’m sorry.” you were rambling and your words jumbled into one, long, run on sentence.
You expected him to yell or defend himself.
He replied with a grin and laughed. He extended his hand. “I’m John. John Laurens. You can call me, J, J La, Laurens, Johnny, Jonathan, frankly you can call me whatever you like.” he chuckled. You took his hand and shook it tentatively.
“I think I’ll just stick with John…J La.” you laughed.
He smirked. “So forgive me, let’s forget about my friend for one moment. But, you seem like a fish out of water here.”
You laughed and nodded. You and John walking to keep up with the moving line. “Yeah, I came with some friends but they ditched me. Also, they were my ride. So, I’m kind of just stuck here. This night has been pretty awful so far.”
“Well, that’s nothing a few beers, dancing, and good music can’t fix.” he smiled.
“Shouldn’t you find your friend, Alex, or something?”
“Nah, he’s fine. Probably lecturing some poor old punk about classic rock and such. He actually kind of likes heavy metal, but I dragged him here with me.” John pointed to his shirt, pointing at the Aerosmith logo. “I love classic rock. But yeah, he’s probably fine. You wouldn’t mind sticking with me would you? I just..I just don’t want you to get lost or overwhelmed because your friends were such assholes-oh,” John blushed, “sorry, that wasn’t my place.”
You shake your head. “You weren’t wrong.” you sighed. “But, I guess I’ll have to take you up on that offer, considering that I well have no one else except me, myself and I.”
John smirked back at you. “You wouldn’t mind if I held your hand then?” he blushed. “Ya, know…so that we don’t get separated or anything…”
“No, not at all.” you threw your hand into his. A warm feeling washed over your body. It wasn’t anxiety anymore. You couldn’t explain it.
You and John continued to talk, he talked a lot of about Alex, and then asked about you. You let him pull you a few rows behind the mosh pit. You started to scream at each other, because the band was doing soundchecks and the crowd was chanting and cheering.
“So, you work at a pizzeria?” you asked.
“Yeah, I actually own it. Just on a college campus not far from here. Originally, I was just an apprentice at the old place, but the old man moved and gave it to me. She’s my little baby. Kind of like Alex.” he laughed. “I swear we aren’t a thing. He’s just my odd wing-man/best friend.”
“Suuuure.” you laughed.
“New York City!!!” one of the frontman singers screamed into the microphone. His hair was long overgrown and thinning fast with old age. He must have been touring for at least half a decade now and was closer to a hundred. The man who was a classic rock legend of his era, was almost a century. But he still had the sound pipes of an angsty thirty year old.
You and John quickly got pushed into the mosh pit.
“John!” you screamed as you lost his hand in yours.
You found yourself in the middle of screaming, sweating, violent, and drunk psycho fans. One elbowed you in the face telling you to ‘shove it’ along with many non-family friendly words. You winced at the throbbing in your nose. You were slowly pushed into the depths of the pit, around everyone’s stomping feet. Someone stepped on your hand.
“John!” you screamed.
You heard a distant shout at the bottom of the feet. Every time you tried to stand up, you got pushed under like trying to resurface the ocean with a wave crashing over your head. Except, instead of white rimmed waves, cigarette ashes and beer fell over your head.
The next moment was filmed with absolute sailor profanity. A fight broke out around you. More so than before. And in the middle of it was a short, freckled-faced, curly haired man. You watched, with tears running down your face, blood running from your nose, as John took a broad looking guy, covered in tattoos.
John hit him with an uppercut punch, and finalized it with a punch to the gut. Anyone who stepped in his pathway ended up with a broken nose and intense bruises. You watched the anguish on his face, sweat dripping down his temples, cap being pushed around. When everything was too loud and panicking to bear, your vision went black.
Strong arms hooked themselves beneath your arms, secured you and pulled you back. The arms dropped from yours, to under your back and legs.
When you could see again, the lights and blaring of the concert was a haze.
“You’re okay!” John cried.
Another man, equally short squatted over you. His hair was dark and slicked into a messy bun, with a scrappy beard.
“Here, take this.” the nameless man said, placing a cold ice pack to your face. John ran to grab a paper towel and helped stop the nosebleed.
“John.” you cried softly, shaking your head. Your tears turned to laughter. “You are dead. You are going to get your ass kicked. You messed with some pretty scary dudes.” you laughed.
The nameless man grinned and slugged John in the arm. He said, “I’m Alex, by the way.”
You and John burst out laughing. You reached for his hand, struggling to calm the tremors in your body. He reached back for yours and met your eyes with a soft smile. He had a few scratches and bruises on his face. A single tear fell. He wrapped an arm around you and held you tight.
“I’m so glad that you are okay.” he cried. He shook his head and sniffed.
“Awww, you’re like a little baby, with snot running down your face.” Alex laughed at John.
John laughed and tried to ignore him. “You know, if you aren’t too traumatized, we could go back to the concert-” he paused when he saw the look of discomfort in your eyes, “-or I was thinking more sensibly, we could go eat an old diner or grab a drink and dance there with no possible chance of a Lion King stampede.” he joked, in a light manner.
Alex shook his head at him. “Too soon man.”
“It’s fine.” you laughed.
“No! I’m taking about Mufasa! It’ll never be okay! He tried to save his son, and he died!” Alex sobbed.
You cocked your head at John, a sly smile on your face. “Is he okay? Is he joking?”
John shrugged. “No one knows.”
John stood up and helped you up. He pulled you into him, an arm around you, the other hand in yours. “Shall we go get a drink then?” he smiled.
“Yeah! Five tequila shots, on John!” Alex snatched the car keys from John’s pocket and started running towards the parking lot.
“I was thinking more like just the two of us.” John laughed.
Alex stopped and looked at John, awful concerned. “Don’t you think that’s quite rude?” he gestured to you.
“I meant (Y/N) and I.” John frowned.
“Well, you need a third wheel for stability right? Buy me five shots and I’ll hang out by the jukebox. You guys won’t even notice me.”
John laughed and looked to you. You shrugged. “I call shotgun!” John shouted. He let go of you and make a quick jump forward.
“No!” Alex screamed. “I don’t want to drive!” Alex booked it to the parking lot.
“Why’d you do that?” you asked. John hadn’t took off running.
“So that I could do this.”
John yanked you forward and kissed you. He had a sharp intense grip on you and kissed you fiercely. Until he softened and melted into the kiss. His grasp softened to nothing and his hand slipped to your hair. To your chin. He brushed his hands down slowly and gently. John’s lips hurt a little bit against yours because of the bruises, but you kissed him back.
“Guys!” Alex came running back, out of breath. “What is taking you so long-oh, GROUP HUG!”
Before you and John could break apart, Alex threw his arms around the both of you.
“Why does he do this?” you laughed, uncomfortably, pressed up against John.
“To ruin the moment.” John laughed. “But, that’s nothing a swift punch can’t fix.” John broke from you, just a moment, to clock Alex in the shoulder, enough to stagger him but not to hurt him. John grabbed you and again and kissed you.
“I like this.” you said in between a kiss.
“I like this too.” John smiled. “I like you more.”
Time slipped by in John’s arms. Your head throbbed with an enormous headache, but it turned to a dull ache when you kissed John. You both ignored Alex’s protests as you kissed more intensely than before. The kiss was filled you with everything and simultaneously nothing.
S.Coups: Bright red. Worn in baseball caps, over-sized jerseys, hot dogs and empty stadiums. The smell of fresh strawberries; Getting into your house after a day out in the winter; The feel of a new basketball. Warm summer nights. The sound of kids in the hallways on the last day of school after the bell rings; Screaming when you finally beat a hard level in a game; Teasing eyes; Mangoes.
Woozi: An untouched field of bright crisp snow; the satisfaction you get when you ace a test you thought you’d do bad on. Thick Holiday sweaters; paper lanterns glowing in dark streets; serious conversations with your normally easy-going friend at 2 in the morning. The colors mint and peach. Smiling to yourself as someone unknowingly compliments you. Laughing to yourself, embarrassed, after you caught yourself daydreaming about someone. The feel of new notebooks.
Hoshi: The rush of joy you feel all at once as you’re trying your hardest doing something you love. Watermelon Popsicle sticks. Turquoise. Giggles breaking the silence. 2007- 2009 pop songs that you still break out screaming to if they come on the radio. Cherry lip balm. Daisies. Empty hockey rings. Cheesy Valentine’s Day teddy bears. Spending hours on a project you’re working on, not noticing you worked through the night. Plastic water bottles.
Wonwoo: Ocean blue. Secret smiles. The jokes written on cards you get at the Pharmacy. Midnight walks. Being in a warm jacket outside during the fall. Apples. The feel of a cold PlayStation controller. Fresh pumpkins. Inside jokes with your friends. Laughing really hard after not laughing for a long time. The smell of clean linen. The moon’s reflection on a car window. Hugging a friend you haven’t seen in a while. Worn in converse sneakers. The sound of a shower running. Soft cloth.
Mingyu: Warm cheesy pizza. Unexpectedly laughing loudly. Ultramarine blue. Fuzzy socks. Riding your bicycle really fast and feeling the wind hit you. Mozzarella sticks. Ice cold soda on a hot day. The way gloves feel when they just got out the dryer. Giggling to yourself as you enjoy doing something childish. Dancing to yourself in front of a mirror. The sound of the city on a busy day. Dipping new paint brushes into paint. Bright sunlight pouring in through a window.
Vernon: Staying up all night on the internet. Late night jokes with your friends. Burgers. Crinkled plaid shirts. Purple. The way your face scrunches up as you laugh really hard. 2 a.m. Ramen noodles. Feeling satisfied as you push yourself past your comfort zone and get good results. Jokes so bad they’re funny. Falling asleep to the sound of a tv show. Opening a new album package that you waited forever for. Plastic figurines. Feeling nervous on the first day of school. Rubber bracelets. Relaxing car drives.
Dino: Stretching in the morning. Lopsided beanies. Pumpkin seeds and tangerines. Long needed hugs. Making fake mohawks with shampoo/soap. Brand new comic books. The way your eyebrows furrow as you work hard doing something you love. The color green.
Randomly learning a weird fact. Rushing to open a package of takeout when you’re really hungry. Racing during gym. Ham and cheese sandwiches.
Seungkwan: The smell of warm, fresh out the oven, buns. Pastel yellow and baby blue. Soft pajamas. Purposefully singing badly to a song. Scrapbooks. The taste of vanilla. The feeling of satisfaction and pride you get after you tell a joke and everybody starts laughing. Those dollar store kids hand sanitizers. Preppy button up shirts. Warm honey brown eyes. The way a librarian smiles at you sweetly. Snow falling in your hair. Thick fluffy scarves. Really puffy winter jackets. Dandelions.
DK: Yellow and orange. Sunflowers. The way you squint your eyes when the sun is too bright. Fried chicken + french fries. Late night snacks. Sliding down wooden floors in socks. Terrible romantic movies. Imitating/mocking the GPS’ voice when you’re driving. Holding hands with your friends. The toy section at the dollar store. The smell of citrus. Bananas. Finger painting. Bouncing your leg as you type away. Laughing with someone, adoration shining through your eyes. Oversized shirts with jokes written on them.
The8: Rubber bouncy balls. Happy family reunions. Fuzzy slippers. Tinsel. The faint sound of music playing at a bbq. Baby golden retrievers. Surprising yourself with your own strength. Bonfires late at night on the beach. The sun shinning extremely bright after it rained. Long eyelashes. Roast sessions with your friends. Coconuts; the smell of purple grapes. Holiday music playing in stores. Fake mustaches and waffles. Two toned/swirled ice cream. The way the warm sidewalk pavement feels against your bare feet.
Jun: Retro red. The night sky when there are no stars out. Kitchen aprons and rose petals. Steele blue. Brand new pencils. Bright white teeth and secret winks. Jumping in (clean) puddles when it’s raining. Airplanes. Apricots and strawberry jam. Cheap perfume and small tourist knick knacks. Warm caramel, covered in chocolate. When your friend pulls through for you. 1 a.m. phone calls. Waking up before you’re supposed to and just laying there, thinking, until your alarm goes off. Fake-flirting with your friends. Plastic flower necklaces.
Jeonghan: Neutral colors. Cactus’ and pastel flower pots. The silence before a storm. Sticking your tongue out playfully. Laughing so hard you accidentally hurt yourself by bumping into something. Messy toaster strudels. Accidentally succeeding at something/good luck. Nostalgia. When you’re tired but so excited you can’t sleep. Watching terrible comedy movies with your friends and laughing more with each other than at the movie. Cinnamon toothpaste. Saltine crackers; absentmindedly laying in a weird position when you’re invested in your hobby.
Joshua: Worn down wood. Maple syrup on warm fluffy pancakes. Procrastinating by watching strange useless videos on Youtube. Old headphones. When your desk is messy but you kinda just know where everything is. Coffee shops and doughnuts with sprinkles. The sound of traffic at night. Knowing every word to a child’s song you haven’t sang in years. Chipped nail polish. Jeans and messy hair. Seeing your own breath when it’s very cold out. Drawing small hearts on the car window. Secret Pinterest boards.
That game was fun. Peter spilled the popcorn everywhere by accident. Ben gave him the biggest hug when their team got the home run. The colorings of the hat are part of the reason the Spidey suit is red and blue.
A small, purple dog stuffed animal
Ben and Peter had always wanted a dog, but May knew it was too much responsibility. Ben got Peter the toy as a substitute. When Peter was sad about not having a puppy, he would hug the toy.
A drawn-on Lego man
Ben always joked about not having a figure that looked like him, so little Peter got a Sharpie and drew glasses on one for him. It was his birthday gift seven years before his passing.
An age-thinned note
“Nice job, kiddo!” with a smiley face. He had gotten an A on his fourth grade English test that he had been really scared about. May had called Ben to tell him the news, and Ben wanted to congratulate the boy, but he had to leave for work before Peter got home from school. He left the note taped on his bedroom door.
After Ben and Peter would go on trips to the grocery store for May, he’d let the boy get a coffee. He always put three packets of sugar in for him, just how Peter liked it. Peter only puts in two packets when he has coffee now.
“Salad Days” by Mac Demarco. Ben loved that kind of music, and they’d dance around Peter’s room to it after he got home from school. They played the song at his funeral as per Peter’s request. He can’t listen to the song anymore.
His film camera
Ben loved photography. He always took beautiful pictures of May, against her will, and goofy pictures of Peter. He always posed by putting his hand on his hip and pursing his lips. He liked it because it made Ben laugh. Now, Peter uses it to take some of his photos and loves the idea of holding Ben’s hand through the surface of the camera.
A brightly-colored punch card
“Buy six get one free!” It was from the records store on 22nd, the one that Ben and a 14-year-old Peter used to go to after Ben got off of work. The last hole remains unpunched.
I’m thinking about maybe doing more of these..? Maybe? What do you think? - -
A/N: Alight here you go folks, a story nobody asked for but I hope you all enjoy. Thanks @bucksies and @rohirrimanduril for all your help you’re the best
pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader
Word count: 5K
Imagine you’re picking up your brother from school when you come across a creature that sends you running for your life and right into the arms of the boy who doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the whole thing, to him it’s just another Tuesday.
It was a typical Tuesday morning for the Henderson household as everyone prepares for their day. Their mother fretted over the cat, making sure the new kitten was well cared for and knew how loved it was. She hadn’t let the little thing out of her sight since she received it that Christmas, courtesy of you and your brother, Dustin. You swear she loved that thing more than you sometimes. Your brother, on the other hand, was scrounging around the kitchen looking for food, while you tried to finish the little bit of homework you had left.
“You kids have everything?” Their mother asked for the hundredth time that morning.
“I do, not sure about princess over there though.” Dustin teased.
“Bite me Dustin,” you snap not in the mood to deal with your annoying little brother with the science test you had that morning looming before you.
Your mom let out an exhausted sigh. “Come on you two, be nice.” She glances out the window, frowning. “You don’t mind driving your brother to school, do you (Y/N)?”
You glance up from the notes you were hastily scribbling and sent your mother a pleading look. You didn’t have time to drop him off at school, you were already running late meeting Steve and still had some last minute notes you wanted to take.