#CROSS DRIP VARSITY JACKET

[urban-renaissance]

[friendly-neighborhood-himbo]

This is chapter 1 of my Gareth fic from ao3.

Warnings: Language, Jason Carver is a POS, canon-typical violence

Chapter 1: The Storm

I was driving home from softball practice when my car broke down. I let out a sigh seeing the rain that was pouring down. It had started when I left from practice, and I was hoping to get home before the worst of it hit. “I don’t know why dad bought Jason a new car just to give me the old beat up one,” I say as I cover my head with my varsity jacket and run into the rain to look at the car. I pop the hood to see that the radiator has finally given out. “Damn it,” I grimace before poking around at the houses surrounding me. I spot a driveway that has the car of Gareth Emerson, my friend that my brother and his popularity pushed away from me. I stare contemplating my options for a moment before a roll of thunder and a lightning strike pushes me forward. I quickly run across the road and knock on the door. My hair is plastered to the sides of my face by now, and I drop my varsity jacket from over me, since it’s already soaked through.

“Hel-“ a voice says stopping when his eyes meet mine, “What’re you doing here Carver? I thought you and your perfect all-american family didn’t want anything to do with a freak like me,” Gareth says crossing his arms.

“I never said that. My car broke down, since my dad gave me the old clunker that Jason beat up while buying him a brand new car. I need to borrow the phone,” I say moving from foot to foot from the cold and my worry about the weather. The thunder rumbles loudly and reverberates through my body causing me to jump and close my eyes. “Can I please just come in for a bit until someone can come and pick me up?” I ask slowly opening my eyes to look at him pleadingly.

“C’mon then,” he says nodding his head backwards to usher me inside. “The phone’s in the kitchen, I’ll go grab a towel.” I pick up the receiver and dial the number.

“Carver residence,” mom says as she picks up the phone.

“Hey mom, the car has broke down for good this time. I’m at the Emerson’s house. They let me in to use the phone, could you come pick me up?” I ask letting her know what happened.

“The storm is getting worse, and it isn’t safe to be on the roads. We’ll try to pick you up after it calms down. Would it be ok for you to stay there for a while?” She asks.

“If not I’ll figure something out, thanks mom,” I reply rolling my eyes as a shiver from being soaked runs down my back.

“Alright, we’ll be there as soon as possible,” she says sweetly and I hang up wrapping my varsity jacket further around me. I stand in the kitchen shivering not wanting to drip water anywhere else.

“Here, this might warm you up a bit,” Gareth says holding the towel out to me.

“Thank you,” I reply quietly taking the towel. I take my varsity jacket off of my shoulders and wrap the towel in its place. “I’m sorry for dripping water everywhere,” I say drying my hair, “My mom said with the storm getting worse that I’ll just have to wait it out. I can go wait in the car if you want.” After I say this another clap of thunder reverberates against the house shaking it. I let out a small yelp stepping closer to Gareth, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You can stay in here until your mom picks you up. I’ll see if I can find something for you to wear that’s dry,” he says going to leave again.

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve already done enough letting me stay here,” I say grabbing his wrist as he goes to leave.

“I can’t have the princess of Hawkins High catch a cold under my supervision. C’mon, I’ll take you to where you can change,” he says grabbing me by the hand and takes me upstairs.

“I’m sorry about everything. I know you probably never wanted to see me again. I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I say as we enter his room.

“Don’t worry about it. I know it was your brother that drove us apart. I know how he is, and I wasn’t going to ask you to deal with his abuse over our friendship,” he says digging through some drawers. “I told you once, I’d do anything to see you safe and happy. Your brother threatened me that day, but worse he threatened you. I couldn’t let that happen,” he says handing me a pair of boxers and a faded Iron Maiden shirt.

“I didn’t know that that happened,” I say grabbing the clothes, “You just stopped talking to me one day, and I thought you hated me. I said so many awful things to you over that, and you were just trying to keep me safe. I’m sorry,” I say dropping the clothes and hugging Gareth.

“I told you I’d do anything,” he says hugging me in return. “I’ve missed you. You’re still as scared of thunderstorms as you were when we were 11,” he says laughing as I jump at another roll of thunder.

“Yeah, I’ll change out of these clothes so I don’t drench you anymore than I already have,” I say pulling away.

“Alright, I’ll put on a movie for us to watch, do you still like The Thing?” he asks.

“You know I’m so scared of it. Are you trying to make me more terrified than I already am?” I ask with a laugh, “Do you think you can handle me being super scared?”

“Don’t worry I’ll be here to keep you safe,” Gareth replies with a laugh, “Get changed. I’ll put the movie on and start some popcorn.”

I let out a laugh in return and once the door closes I shuck off my wet clothes. I completely strip and put on the shirt and boxers. I revel in the warmth and smell of them. I missed Gareth so much, and even if I hated him for what he did, I never stopped watching him from afar. I smell the popcorn cooking downstairs, and decide to go down. “Gare?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen. He’s standing over the stove shaking the popcorn to cook it evenly. I stop staring at his arms toned from practicing drums over the years.

“Hey, you still like extra butter on the popcorn?” he asks turning to see me leaning against the doorway of the kitchen.

“Of course, don’t I always?” I reply walking over to the stove, “I’m sorry about letting my brother get in between our friendship. He’s a spoiled brat that always gets what he wants, and dad plays into it. That’s why I got Jason’s old broken down car while he got the brand new one.”

“That’s bullshit. He’s the one that overran that one and broke it all to hell. Now you have to deal with his mistakes and not being able to take care of the many things he’s just given,” Gareth says angrily as he finished the popcorn before turning off the stove and pouring it into a bowl.

“Yeah, but that’s what I’m used to, and hey at least it brought us back together,” I say nudging his elbow and grabbing the bowl. We head to the living room and put on the movie. I snuggle up to him under the blanket as the thunder rolls overhead and the movie starts.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll protect you,” he says with a smirk on his lips and a playful glint in his eyes.

“My knight in shining armor,” I say with a laugh before putting my head on his shoulder with a small giggle.

I don’t remember when it happened, but we both fall asleep on the couch. I wake up to the blue screen on the tv, the mostly empty popcorn bowl on the floor, and Gareth on his back while I lay across him using his chest as a pillow. I’m about to pull the blanket hire over us when knocking at the door gets me up. That must’ve been what woke me in the first place. I grab a second blanket and wrap it around me before going to the door. “Hello?” I ask as I open it tired from my unplanned nap.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Jason says and my blood runs cold.

“I didn’t have any other clothes, so Gareth let me borrow some to wear until my clothes dried. What time is it?” I ask it’s dark outside and the rain has stopped and clouds have cleared a bit so I can see parts of the night sky.

“It’s 2am, we need to go. Get your things and we’ll come back for the car tomorrow,” he replies.

“Ok,” I say going to close the door, but Jason stops it with his foot, “Go wait in the car Jason.”

“Not when I’m not sure you’re safe in there by yourself,” he says pushing the door open again, “I’ll stay in the entryway, just go get your things.” He steps inside and I quickly run upstairs. I slide on my still damp jeans, socks, and shoes before running back downstairs. I quickly walk through the living room and wake Gareth up in the process.

“Why the rush Princess?” Gareth asks tiredly, and I walk over to him.

“Jason’s here to pick me up. I have to go, do you still have band practice tomorrow?” I ask quietly.

“Ash, let’s go!” I hear Jason call, and I jump a bit at it.

“Yeah,” Gareth replies.

“Alright, I’ll stop by tomorrow,” I say with a smile. I give him a quick peck on the cheek, “Thanks again for everything.” His face breaks into a goofy grin as I collect my things and stand up.

“See you then, Princess,” he says as I walk back into the entryway.

“Alright, let’s go,” I say, and we walk out of the door. I throw my clothes in the back of Jason’s car, “I have to get my backpack out of my car,” I say running over to it and grabbing my backpack out.

I hop into Jason’s car and buckle up. Jason starts the car and we start back to our house, “Why were you at that freaks house?” he asks glaring at the road ahead.

“It was the closest place, and I knew it would be safe. I didn’t know anyone else that lives around here. I was lucky too, because I had to wait for 9 hours before anyone had the time to come and get me,” I reply rolling my eyes at the end.

“Everyone was busy, you’re lucky I had the time to come pick you up. And I told you to stay away from him. Being around him will ruin the family reputation, and we have to keep up appearances. What if one of dad’s business partners finds out his daughter is a delinquent? How would that look huh?” Jason asks as he stops the car in front of our house.

“He isn’t a delinquent! Just because he doesn’t follow the rules of society doesn’t mean he isn’t good and kind!” I reply getting out of the car and grabbing my things, “I’m sorry you have your head so far up your own ass that you can’t see that.” I flip him off and walk upstairs to my room. “God, he’s such a dick,” I say locking my door and throwing myself under the covers before melting into the mattress excited for tomorrow.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt.1 (Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5)

tw: enemies-to-lovers, swearing, mentions of fighting

----

Peter’s day started like most others. 

The nearby screech of his alarm startles him into the waking world. Without opening his eyes, he fumbles against his bedside table to grab his phone, smacking himself in the face in his haste to silence it.

It’s always a Herculean effort to get up before the sun does, and today is no different. Squinting against the grey morning light, Peter contemplates simply closing his eyes and going back to sleep. The thought is tempting, the pull of sleep still in his limbs. 

Instead, he resigns himself to the day and slips out of bed, reaching for his glasses and propping them on his face.

Through finger-smudged lenses his phone say’s five-thirty-four, which in itself is an affront, but he’s comforted that it’s a Friday and respite isn’t far off. This weekend will be spent sleeping, playing video games and eating cinnamon poptarts until he succumbs to a blissful food coma.

He can’t freakin’ wait. 

Hearing his aunt rouse the room over, Peter gathers his clothes and hurries to the shower. The November chill bites as his bare feet touch the floor and he shivers, cursing the lack of heating in his apartment. It’s positively freezing. 

The hot water is nice while he showers, but it’s much worse when he gets out, still wet as he tiptoes back to his bedroom. Fruitlessly, he bangs the old iron radiator in the hall with his fist as he passes it, because it does little more than encourage a groan from the ancient equipment.

Back in his bedroom, Peter hums as slips on his sweats and sneakers and readies himself for the day against the tune of an awakening neighborhood, spraying himself with probably too much deodorant in the process. 

Finished, Peter puts his glasses back on and in the window he inspects his reflection. He smiles. 

It’s Friday.

It’s gonna be a great day.

----

To no-ones shock but his own, his affirmation was proving true.

So far, Peter actually was having a great day.

Because it was late November but the sun was shining so splendidly that it quickly froze the frost from the windows. A small miracle occurred when he found a scrunched twenty dollar note stashed in the pocket of his jacket - and with it he treated himself up a packet of Lays, a red bull and a sandwich from Delmars

And for once, he wasn’t late to training.

For the early hour that he arrives, the school is near empty, save for the male locker room which is slowly teeming with a slow drip of weary-eyed boys. Yawning, Peter dumps his backpack and retrieves his mouthguard, sharing commiserative glances with his zombie-eyed teammates. It’s truly an ungodly hour to be at school.

But, despite his drowsiness, Peter doesn’t mind the early mornings so much, probably more accustomed to it than the rest. It sucks, but he’s happy to get the training out of the way -- it makes time for after school priorities like Robotics and chess club. 

He slaps Barnes’ on the back when they file out, jogging to get ahead. Like his heater, his friend groans in response.

Coach Danvers is already there when they arrive, her arms crossed over her chest. Peter approaches the field with a growing sense of weariness, augmented by the flat line her mouth forms as they near.

Once the team is assembled, Coach clears her throat loudly for their attention.

“Look alive, boys,” she raises her voice. “Good morning. I’d like you to welcome back Wilson and Rogers, who, as you may recall, were suspended from training for three weeks.”

Suspended completely from school grounds was more accurate, Peter thinks, clapping along as cheers erupt around him, the remarks are met with fervent enthusiasm for their return. Someone whistles and he looks to the source, spotting the two boys in question in receipt of fist-bumps and back-slaps from the team.

Rogers and Wilson rarely did anything in isolation of one another. They were attached at the hip. It was probably the reason that they were both involved in a fist-fight with a couple of other juniors a few weeks prior. 

Peter’s happy to see them back. They’re great guys, have always been good to him. And whilst he steadfastly abhors needless violence, Peter finds himself in a grey area to judge the circumstances. He wasn’t there, doesn’t know what the fight was about. What he does know is that they were both damn lucky they weren’t kicked off the team.

It’s probably because the board knows they wouldn’t win another game without them. 

Lucky for the team.

“Enough,” Coach snaps. “We play Kingston next week, six days! You look like you want to play hopscotch instead of football. Do you want to play hopscotch?”

“No, coach,” the team settles, echoing in unison. Danvers slowly circles the group, eyeing each of them down as they fall into line. Peter keeps his gaze fixed to the goal posts on the near horizon to avoid her furious gaze.

“Doesn’t look like it. Are you sure?”

“Yes, coach!”

“Well, color me shocked. Maybe you want to hold hands and paint each others fingernails? Well, guess what, boys - I do not care what you want. What I want -- and what you should want -- is to not give Principal Fury a reason why we’ve lost another match. So you,” she points at Rogers, “and all of you juvenile delinquents,” she gestures to the crowd, “keep the violence to the field. Am I clear?”

“Yes, coach!”

“Great,” she brings her whistle to her mouth. “Gassers until I say stop or until you pass out, starting now. Move!”

Her whistle sounds sharply and, at faced with the fury of her stare, the team scatters across the field.

No one more so than Peter, who flees to the hard edge of the field at her command and commences running, feeling every chomp of the frigid, late fall air in his chest.

Coach Danvers was a hardass. But if anyone could convince Fury to not kick two of their best players off the team, it was her.

Peter had well well and truly worked up a sweat by the time the whistle was blown again and the team was split into three to run drills.

He was wishing he hadn’t eaten the whole sandwich from earlier when Quill rams his shoulder into his stomach for the third time, bile rising in his throat. He powers through it but by the time coach blows her whistle again to switch to the next drill, he’s feeling green, sunburnt and sweaty.

Which wouldn’t be so bad, if a small crowd of students hadn’t rocked up early, relaxing on the bleachers to watch the training.

Amongst them were a group of juniors who were smoking and laughing to themselves. They gave Peter the finger when he ran past, but he ignored them. 

“You suck, Parker!” 

The colour commentary from this particular group wasn’t uncommon, but Peter didn’t care. He’d heard worse from Flash in middle school -- and they were good friends now.

Not that Peter wasn’t paying attention. Because also perched upon the steps was a group of seniors, specifically, a fair-haired boy that made Peter’s heart do funny things in his chest. 

As Peter ran his laps, the aforementioned boy descended the stairs. He leans across the fencing separating the seats and the field and smiles at Peter when he looks over.

Peter would blush, were his face not already pink with exertion.

The boy’s name is Thor.

Well, that’s what his friends call him. Peter isn’t actually sure of his full name but he does know that Thor is a senior and an exchange student from somewhere in Europe. 

Thor started at their school in September, qualified immediately for their varsity team and is a super sweet guy. 

His locker gets stuck sometimes. It just takes elbow grease, but once, Thor noticed him struggling to open it and didn’t hesitate to hurry over to help. He had it opened in a matter of seconds and had smiled just like he did now. Peter has been smitten ever since. 

Any lingering doubts he’d had over the summer regarding his bisexuality were swiftly and resolutely confirmed as soon as he saw the older boy striding down the halls, a head taller than anyone else, smile a mile wide, accent like liquid gold.

He’s just so pretty. And nice. 

Feeling Thor’s eyes on him, self-consciousness creeps over Peter as he continues his laps. But he channels it, using the opportunity to prove himself, maybe impress the other boy, running faster despite the burn in his lungs and thighs. 

Come on, Parker, keep going.

He looks over again. Every time he does Thor is looking at him - at Peter - and maybe it really is his lucky day. He keeps pushing himself to go faster, harder until his heart is throbbing in his ears. The next time he looks over though, Thor is lifting his sweater over his head. 

The action makes his undershirt ride up, revealing a tantalising strip of bare, hard skin.

Peter trips, hitting the ground hard.

Motherfuck.

There is immediate, raucous laughter by the bleachers as he groans and picks himself up, body protesting. He spits out grass on the ground, dazedly noticing the smoking kids, Stark and Rhodes, clapping at Peter’s performance.

Setting back into a jog as his face flames, Peter refuses to look over again to see if Thor noticed.

That would be just his luck.

----

By first period a deep, purple bruise is blooming on his chin and knees. There’s a graze on his cheek from the fall and his jaw feels like it did when he first got braces in fifth grade, stiff as hell and sensitive to the touch.

Shuri laughs at him when he sits beside her.

“That bad?” Peter asks, flinching when she takes his jaw in hand to inspect the damage.

“It’s not like you can get any uglier,” she remarks, turning his head from side to side. “It’s fine, just maybe don’t smile at small children. What happened -- did you try to rescue another old woman?”

“No,” he sighs, pulling back, embarrassed. “I fell at training this morning and ate dirt. I got distracted.”

“That’s a first.”

His cheeks heat.

“Yeah, well.” He leans in closer to whisper, eyes darting around the room. “Thor was there. He said hi to me.”

“That’s it? He said hi?”

“Well, kinda. He smiled at me. Like, he looked directly at me and bam, blinded by the light. And then he did this thing with his shirt --”

Shuri’s eyes go wide but whatever she has to say is curbed by the arrival of their teacher. She pulls out her notebook and points at him with her pen. “New low,” she whispers. “What the fuck, PP.”

Peter shrugs.

Her disdain is evident and Peter can’t help but smile, even as it pulls his injuries.

His fortune again turns, receiving top marks for the last assignment and his teacher wasn’t even that mad when he was caught texting during class. Maybe it was the split lip or the sorry state of his nose that inspired pity from the faculty, but he wasn’t about to test his luck.

He clearly wasn’t going to get through to college through his prowess at football, so he pockets his phone, apologises sheepishly and sticks his head into his books. 

Maybe he replays the moment in his head as he takes notes, filled with equal measures of shame and giddiness.

At least May would be satisfied that his glasses were preserved from damage and wouldn’t have to buy a new pair.

By the time class ends, his face is well and truly throbbing. He winces when he yawns, prompting Shuri to roll her eyes at him as they head into the halls.

“You’re so embarrassing,” she says, knocking their hips together as they weave through students on their way to the bio labs.

“Pity me. I’m wounded.”

“Oh I pity you alright,” she says distractedly, nodding to the far end of the hall. “Hey, look. Stark and Rhodes are back from suspension.”

Peter looks over.

Stark is talking to some girl, leaning against the lockers while Rhodes tries to pull him away, presumably towards their next class. 

Peter shakes his head, recalling their antics that morning. “Yeah, I noticed. Stark should have been expelled. He started that fight.”

“Uhh, don’t even. Rogers threw the first punch,” Shuri reasons, waving to both boys as they pass. 

“Semantics.”

“That’s a big boy word.”

“I’m a big boy.”

Shuri pokes his grazed cheek.

“Sure you are.”

----

The next few periods passed without a hitch. 

But the best part of all came during lunch.

It was Mac’n’Cheese day. The best day of the week -- well, the only day of the week that Peter can afford cafeteria food, if he was honest, but he sure made it count. 

Fortuitously, MJ had gotten there early enough to secure their group a table together and the lunchlady that was sweet on Peter had given him an extra scoop of the gooey pasta, to his delight. Maybe it really was his lucky day, he thinks, taking a spot at the table.

That would be a first.

He’d been riding on the high of his morning, gracelessly shovelling the cheesy goodness into his gullet when it happened.

“Don’t look now,” Natasha says to his left. “Wonderboy is coming through.”

Peter looks up at the exact moment Thor strides past their table, catching his eye.

The other boy grins roguishly at him. His teeth are so white. 

“Hey there, Pete,” he waves, nodding to the rest of the table and moving on

“H-Hey, Thor,” he swallow roughly, waving back. “H-Hows it going?”

Thor already having moved on, doesn’t respond, and for the butterflies beating against his stomach, Peter doesn’t even care.  He smiles down at his pasta, heart racing a mile a minute. Wow.

“Hey, Thor,” Shuri imitates him. 

Peter swallows, ignoring her, cheeks going pink. “He knows my name. Oh my god. He knows my name.”

“Who cares, the whole school knows your name,” MJ says, without looking up from her textbook. 

Shuri points her fork at her in agreement. “Yes. Thor’s a meathead. You can do better.”

“No he can’t,” Ned disagrees. "Have you seen that guy? His biceps are like bowling balls.”

Bucky parks himself between Steve and Natasha, throwing an arm around them both. He puts on a high voice, fluttering his eyelashes. “Who, Thor? I heard he’s a model for Burberry.”

“I heard he does Adidas commercials in Norway,” Natasha adds.

“And he’s quarterback of the varsity team,” Flash finishes.

MJ blinks. 

“And?”

“He’s got a four-point-oh,” Peter says dreamily. 

He stops paying attention, eyes going unfocused as he imagines their next interaction. Maybe Thor will ask him out, god willing. He imagines Thor and himself graduating as Valedictorians in their respective years, throwing their caps high into the sky and embracing. Their classmates will clap as they kiss. Maybe they’ll then spend the summer in Thor’s hometown, wherever that is. Peter doesn’t know, but maybe it has rolling green hills, cute cobblestone roads and snow-capped mountains, maybe they’ll go on horse rides and picnics where Thor will surprise Peter and propose and --

Someone snorts behind Peter, shattering the illusion.

Peter turns in his chair to find one Tony Stark grinning wickedly, apparently eavesdropping.

“What,” he prompts, frowning when that elicits a wider smile from the other boy, his dark and unkempt hair falling across his forehead in front of his eyes.

“Nothin’,” Tony tucks his wayward strands behind his ear. “I mean, well. Just that you said he’s got a four-point-oh.”

“And?”

Tony shrugs. He holds his pinkie up to his face and wriggles it.

“And I dunno, Parker. Gotta say; You seen him in the showers? Four is a little generous, don’t you think? More like three.”

Peter stares.

Tony tilts his head, conceding.

“O-kay, three and a half.”

Peter rolls his eyes. This guy is freaking bent.

“Well, that’s three and a half more that he’s got on you, Stark. Mind your own business.” he turns back around to the table. MJ, across from him, has her lips pursed in an attempt to hide her smile. 

“S’gotta be the steroids,” is what he hears Tony say to his friends before they start to snicker. “Seriously -- you seen that guys’ balls? No? Neither have I. Not for a lack of trying.”

Peter ignores him. 

Tony Stark is prickly. A smartass, although he’s rarely antagonistic -- unless it’s towards Peter and his team mates, of course. 

Peter doesn’t really get why. It doesn’t serve him to spend longer moments of musings on someone who clearly hates him, but thinks Steve and Tony used to be friends before falling out at some point, way before Peter came to the high school and joined the JV team. 

Like he does with everyone, Peter had tried to befriend Tony at first, but it quickly became clear that the other boy had no interest in making nice, sneering at every pleasantry and effort. Before long, Peter’s extended hand of friendship became a clenched fist.

Rhodes and Potts, his friends, seem to be reasonable. Cordial that borders on unfriendly, sure, but reasonable. 

Tony, however, seems to get a kick out of the perpetual disharmony. 

Whatever, Peter scoops up the last of his pasta, chewing it with a pleased sigh. It doesn’t matter. Propping his chin on his hand, he replays the exchange with Thor over again in his mind, heart racing all over again.

This is the best day ever. 

Not even Tony Stark can bring him down today.

-----

Peter Parker wouldn’t consider himself a religious person or a believer in a higher power. He was scientific, clinical. Rarely did he attribute his fortunes -- or misfortunes as it were -- to anything other than deterministic chaos.

But there was something called Parker Luck, as his Aunt called it. Whilst evidence of it was purely anecdotal, it was a theory Peter believed in whole heartedly.

He might not have hard proof, but all the trends in his life end in the same answer.

Parker Luck. It’s a thing.

----

Fortune, momentarily swings his way again during History. 

Mr Jacobs, their regular teacher with a stiff upper-lip, is off sick and the sub lets them have an independent study period, which is code for doing fuck all. 

He doesn’t have any friends in this class so he utilises the time finishing his math homework and doodling in his notebook. If he draws a few hearts with his own initials and those of a certain exchange student, then, well, that’s his business.

By the time he’s in Economics, his final class of the day, Peter is feeling pretty damn good.

He takes his usual seat in the back row next to Natasha, dropping his books on the table with a thud. The noise awakens Jake, the stoner guy, who sits on his other side. Peter offers him a smile as he takes his seat.

This should be good.

While Economics holds no special place in his heart, Miss Ahn is by far his favorite teacher. She’s young, late twenties, Peter thinks, and is one of the more approachable teachers in the faculty. She worked for some big deal accounting firm before she found her calling in teaching and has always been good to Peter.

She watches the kids as they file in and smiles at them as they take their seats. In her hand she’s holding a Met’s cap (another reason for Peter to adore her) which, upon inspection, to be full of folded pieces of paper.

When she has the attention of the room she greets the class and takes attendance. Curiously, nothing is said about the hat afterwards as she walks around the room, offering the hat to each student and allowing them to withdraw a single piece of paper.

Bewildered, Peter watches his peers and their increasing confusion as they open their pieces until it’s his turn.

He takes one out of her hat and opens it with uncertainly.

He unfolds it. It reads: middle-school art teacher.

Peter frowns.

He peers over to Natasha, whose expression mirrors his own.

“Great, that’s everyone!” Miss Ahn nods and returns to the front of the room to lean back on her desk. A slow smile spreads on her face and Peter, for the first time in her classroom, feels dread creep up his spine.

“So,” she claps, “building on our discussion last week we were talking microeconomics versus macroeconomics, I mentioned an assignment. Who remembers?”

The class collectively groans.

“I know, I know, it’s a hard knock life. But, it’s not going to be that bad, i promise. You might find it fun. Mr Barnes, what does yours say?”

In front of Peter’s desk, he watches Bucky unfold his paper, pausing.

“...Personal trainer?”

“Great. And yours, Mr Wilson?”

In the second row, Sam frowns at his paper. “Therapist.”

Miss Ahn seems pleased, pointing at the two.

“Congrats, you two are partners for the next week. You’re married, you have no children. But you holiday twice a year and have a mortgage.”

“I’m sorry,” Barnes glances between Wilson and their teacher. “We what?”

She addresses the class as a whole.

“You two, as you all are once you are partnered, are to prepare an annual budget for your fictional household. This is the microeconomics portion of the assignment.”

“Are you saying I’m fake-married to this clown?” Sam gestures with his thumb, displeasure written all over his face.

Peter snorts as their teacher nods.

“Right! Just for two weeks. I expect your budgets to be detailed, okay? I strongly recommend extensive research into the respective fields you are assigned. Average salary, student loan forecast, the works. Figure out how much you owe and how much you earn. Rent! Bills! This is worth 40% of your semester grade. Do you love it?”

Peter looks back down at his paper, reading it again. The trepidation from earlier comes back as a pit in his stomach.

"Miss Potts, how about your paper?”

The girl grimaces.

“Divorce lawyer.”

“Great. And Mr Rhodes?”

“Colonel,” he reads, tilting his head as he considers his paper. “Cool.”

“Awesome. You two are estranged sweethearts, supporting three kids. You share equal alimony, rent separately, and are set to remarry. Natasha?”

Natasha blinks at her paper. “Executive Producer.”

His teacher hums, tapping her lips with her finger as she circles her desk. “Single. No kids.”

Natasha grins, all teeth.

“Mr Parker?”

Peter reads his paper aloud, smiling as his fingers shake, feeling each pair of eyes of his fellow students as they await his fate.

“And you, Mr Stark?

In the second row, closest to the door, Tony crumples his paper in his hand. The room is pervasively silent. Tony clears his throat, tossing the paper onto his desk with evident disdain.

“Stay-at-home-parent,” his voice so quiet that Peter nearly misses it.

“Excellent. Okay then, you and Mr Parker are married ---”

Peter’s stomach drops. 

Oh no.

“-- you’ve just adopted a four year old. You two met at work, Mr Stark is taking time off to care for the child -- figure out your savings, salary, budget for a new family --”

Tony’s hand shoots up swiftly, his fingers waving in the air.

Peter follows suit, arm stretching high. No. This is -- no. 

“Miss Anh?” Tony interrupts, bouncing in his seat. “Yes, hi. Tony Stark, that’s me, the guy you just condemned. Just wondering, is it possible to switch partners?”

The teacher pauses, 

“No, it's not.”

Peter raises his hand higher. 

“Can you make an exception?” he asks, lowering his hand and looking between Tony and Miss Ahn uneasily. “I think that would be best.”

She places her hands on her hips.

“What’s the issue, boys?”

Before Peter can even open his mouth, the other boy cuts in.

“You see Miss A,” Tony interjects, hands pressed together in a fervent plea, eyes closing, as if in prayer.  “Here’s the thing: I just can’t work with neanderthals. They bring down my grade average.”

“Anthony.”

Miss Ahn frowns. The entire class turns in their seats to watch the exchange and Peter feels his face heat. 

“Well lucky for him, I can’t work with underachieving eighties rejects whose parents pay for their grades.”

“Wow,” Stark gestures to their teacher, “you hear that Miss? You driving that ‘94 Volvo on my parents money? Gosh, I am so sorry. Let me get you an upgrade.”

He turns to Peter, face heating at the attention of the class.

“Shit, Parker,” he continues, gesturing to him. “You really are as dumb as rocks. I mean, don’t you ever get tired of perpetuating your own stereotype?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Do you ever get tired of being an insufferable asshole?”

Tony puts a hand on his chest. “Absolutely. It keeps me up at night.”

Peter huffs. “You’re exhausting.”

“You’re loathsome.”

“Prick.”

“Princess.”

“Boys!” Miss Ahn cuts in, snapping her fingers, her expression positively thunderous. “I don’t know what has got into either of you, but that is enough.” She points to them both. “Unless you have a real, valid complaint, quit it. Right now. You’re going to work together on this assignment or you both of you will fail.”

Peter and Tony share a look. 

“Your choice,” she says, pointing at each of them. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Tony huffs, turning back to face the front of the room. 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest and nods.

“Great. Now, not a word from either of you for the remainder of this class. Scott, your turn.”

Peter fumes silently as Scott unfolds his paper and reads it aloud to the room.

“An entomologist!” He shifts excitedly in his seat, beaming widely. “Wow! Wow. Man, that’s so cool. I love Lord of The Rings.”

Miss Ahn sighs.

---

“Stop laughing,” Peter hisses, leaning in closer to Natasha. “Shut up. It’s not funny.”

The redhead leans against Peter’s locker, hand clamped over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You are not,” Peter grumbles, brushing her aside to get into his locker. It sticks when he pulls iy, like it always does, and Peter has to tug to get it open. “This is the worst day of my life. I’m cursed.”

“You’re not cursed.”

“Who’s cursed?”

Peter turns in time to see Bucky swoop in and embrace Natasha from behind.

“Me. I’m cursed. I gotta be, right? I mean, what reason would there be for me to be paired with Tony Stark? Am I not a good person? Have I not suffered enough?”

Natasha opens her mouth but Peter barrels on.

“And what does Tony Stark know about managing money?” he continues, shoving notebooks haphazardly into his bag, despair increasing. “His dad owns a fleet of Ferraris and a private jet. He probably has a diamond encrusted butthole. The guy hates me -- I’m cursed.”

“Wow. You’re so dramatic.” She looks to Bucky. “Are you hearing this?”

Peter poins a finger at her.

“You’re just saying that because you’re going to be a successful single multi-billionaire or something. I have to be married to the stay-at-home dickwad.”

“Maybe you could teach him a thing or two.”

Peter scoffs, shoving textbooks into his backpack, weekend plans obliterated by the volume of homework he’s received.

“What, like how to not be an asshole?”

“Why are you so obsessed with his asshole?”

“Speaking of the devil,” Bucky cuts in quietly. “Your three o’clock.”

The devil indeed, Peter thinks, zipping his bag and closing his locker. He turns just in time for a stony-faced Tony stride towards him.

“Stark,” he greets darkly.

“Parker. Do you prefer Parker or Princess?” Tony waves his hands dismissively. “Nevermind, I don’t care. So, this assignment? Here’s the thing --”

“Let me guess,” Peter interrupts, slinging the straps of his backpack onto his shoulder. “You’re too busy to complete your half? That’s fine, it’d be best if you let me write it. That way you might actually pass. Win, win.”

Tony looks at him, lips pursed.  

“Uh, no. No, and then also, no. That’s an awful idea. What are you, like, a C average?”

“Actually, I’m --”

“I don’t actually care. Listen, as much as I would love to be as far away from you as possible --”

“-- Likewise --”

“ -- Miss A will know if we bullshit her. I know you’re intimately familiar with the experience, but she isn’t an idiot. She can spot your mediocre work a mile away.”

Peter folds his arms over his chest, glasses slipping down his nose.

“You’re not actually proposing we do this together, right,” he queries, pushing them back up. The ire from earlier continues to burn in his chest. “Can you even read?”

“Haha, oh my god, you’re like so funny,” Tony runs a hand through his hair, voice going glib and high pitched. His expression goes serious. “Write your address in my phone. I’ll see you there at six.”

“Why at six?” Peter frowns, taking the phone when Tony waves it in his face. He begins typing in his address, pausing briefly to peer at the other boy. “And why my apartment? Am I going to dirty up your mansion?”

“Penthouse, actually,” Tony crosses his arms over his chest. “And because I have better things to do this afternoon that isn’t aspirating on your sweat fumes.”

“You can aspirate on my ass,” he mumbles through his teeth as he resumes typing, chest going hot.

“Tempting, but no thanks. Are you done yet? You type slow. Do you know you type slow?”

“Shut up,” Peter rolls his eyes, locking the phone and returning it to its owner. “Don’t be late. I’m not joking, I’m not waiting around for you.”

“Sure thing, princess,” Tony pockets his phone, retrieving a cigarette from behind his ear and slipping it between his lips. “Don’t shoot on arrival.”

“No promises.”

It goes unheard, however. Tony has already turned and left, headphones secure over his ears. 

Annoyed, he turns back to his friends.

“That guy is the worst.”

If he was expecting sympathy or commiseration, which he was, he comes up short on both. Instead, met with Natasha whispering into her boyfriends ear as she casts him a suspicious side eye.

“What?” He pokes her in the arm. “What are you whispering about.”

Natasha shakes her head, poking him back. It hurts. 

“Nothing.”

Before he can retaliate, Bucky slings an arm each around Peter and his girlfriends shoulders, smiling easily at them. As a trio, they walk towards the exit, the hallway near empty, save for a few stragglers idling by the doors.

“Don’t worry, Pete. She was just sayin’ one of you will be dead by morning,” Bucky offers, squeezing his shoulder.

“Um, not me, right?” Peter asks, adjusting his glasses on his nose again. “I’m alive in this scenario?”

"No.”

“Hey!”

Bucky jostles his shoulder. “You saw the shiner he gave Rogers the other week. You already look like you fell into a blender.”

His jaw throbs at the mention.

Natasha snorts. “Ha. You’re a goner.”

“No, I’m not. I could fight if I had to,” Peter argues, as they part the double doors at the exit. Descending the stairs, the couple head towards the carpark and wave him off. “I could!” He yells, walking backwards, accidentally bumping into a harried-looking freshman. 

It goes without response. The two share an amused look before disappearing, but Peter isn’t even mad. He’s wily. He could totally take Stark in a fight.

Heading out of the grounds and towards the nearest subway entrance, Peter winces as his injuries are jostled during the descent and massages his cheek gingerly. An old woman ascending the stairs gives him an odd look that turns horrified when he smiles to ease her.

By the time he’s swiped his Metrocard and made his way to his track, his hood is covering his face.

Yep, he’s doomed.

[wordynerdygurl]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note:  Well hello my friends!  Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?!  STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers!  This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share.   As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story!  Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl!  Thanks lady! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request:  @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings:  Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc.  References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go."  Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe.  It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know.  It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it."  Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words.  Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate."  Still, her compliment made you smile.  It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers. 

 Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath.  Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin.  It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows.  Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips.  And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors.  For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide.  Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen.  It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly."  Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie!  That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun.  And, worse case?  You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case.  Worst case?  He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh?  And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin.  She was right.  Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head.  Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly.  You could do this.  You wouldn't be alone.  And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it.  You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go?  We're already stupid late."  

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over?  Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess.  I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight.  Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage.  Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice.  Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter.  Truly."

"Aw!  Really, Mr. Loki?  Ya mean it?"  That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do!  Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party.  The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap.  Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night.  Everything was brightly lit.  Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling.  Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice.  On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible.  A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza.  Well, dozens of pizzas.  The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.  

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam.  Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice.  Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket.  Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank!  Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!"  Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest.  No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them.  Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything.  Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up!  Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room.  So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there.  You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion.  Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system.  At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off.  It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet.  Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing.  Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk.  Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands.  Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you.  Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you.  “Oh.  It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all.  Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back.  Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night.  The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness.  You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving.  But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you.  Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.  

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally.  Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response.  Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek.  Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing.  It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect.  Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight.  Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit.  All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you.  Soft, full skin under his broad palms.  The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own.  How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation.  And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all.  Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick.  Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair.  Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes.  Your dream has come true.”  Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them.  He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it?  I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s.  I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself.  The suit was totally of its time.  Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe.  His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white.  Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account.  The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress.  The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall.  In short, an avarice little asshole.  So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement.  Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now.  And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh?  Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh.  No way.  You would not be so easy to seduce this time around.  Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again.  Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous.  Genuine, at least for you.  And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.  

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much.  He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag.  Basic bitch?  Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt.  You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him.  Loki couldn't want you.  You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you.  His soulful kisses that stole your breath.  The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips.  His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face.  “I thought you said I was plain.  Simple.  Boring.”  

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat.  How could you think that?  Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out?  I believe that.  And, let me tell you this-”  Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.”  Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will.  In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable.  Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion.  Was he really going to indulge in this?  Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together?  Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere.  Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again.  Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring.  Not at all!  There was plenty to distract you and you let it.  Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.  

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache.  Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?”  She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.  

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued,  “Really?  Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so.  Was coming on awfully strong too.  But… he’s been a jerk, right?”  

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner.  More of a lone wolf.  In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to.  Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit?  And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to.  Loki thinks I’m a bore?  Too basic for him?  Fine.  I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually.  Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile.  There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!”  There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match.  Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man?  You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend.  You all remember this?”  From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first.  Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers.  Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found.  Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee.  Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary.  Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note.  When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt.  It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well?  What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment.  The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music.  A drunken moment of clarity had descended.  Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response.  Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that.  Not after what he’d said.  Not after your one night together, right?  But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.  

Refusing didn't enter your mind.  With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do.  Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.  

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner.  Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered.  No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own.  Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki.  The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart.  A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe?  You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care. 

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength.  Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips.  Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close.  “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark.  Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light.  He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight.  It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric.  You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy.  Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer.  Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips.  Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up.  I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you.  I don't care.  Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body.  Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own.  Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard.  Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain.  Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch.  Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess.  But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.  

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot.  Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention.  He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs.  “I just need to feel you, dove.  I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.”  It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core.  When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls.  Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle.  You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight.  Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK!  The sound made you both freeze.  Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!  What do we have here?”  Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here?  It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes.  Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking.  Very quietly.”  When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing.  Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips!  We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends.  You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes.  Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way.  Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet.  Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling.  “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things?  That I was… boring?  Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never.  What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips.  “Good.  Good to know.  Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really?  I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.”  Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.”  Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation.  Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.  

“You’re welcome.” “Ah!  Yes, many thanks Tony.”  

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight!  Treat her right.”

“Of course.  I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries!  No worries!”  Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list:  @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco​

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter one. 

wc: 2,034. original publish date: october 1, 2020.

Winter seems to drag on this year, pushing back Spring farther and farther until it steps off the chessboard of seasons completely. It's early April, but there is still snow piled up on the sidewalks, filling in the cracks of the concrete squares and melting into slush on the smooth surface. John F. Kennedy and Cleopatra walk down the sidewalk now, grasping hands dearly so as not to slip on the melted snow. Cleo is bundled up tightly in a black cardigan, John's varsity letterman jacket draped on top for extra warmth. She huddles close to the boy as she walks, trying to bask in some of the natural body heat wafting off of him. They like to walk in silence -- sometimes it's easier that way. Their questions don't have to be answered if they're never asked. But sometimes, the burden of carrying around the question is greater than the weight of hearing the answer.

"Why don't you ever take me on real dates, John?" Cleo asks in her shrill voice, almost whining.

"I don't know why you'd want me to, Cleo," he replies coolly, still grasping her hand. She wears elegant black gloves which hug her lean fingers fittingly. The cashmere is smooth and inviting against John's palm.

"Because some girls like romance, John."

"I thought you liked making out with me."

"I do!" She relaxes her hand, still holding onto John but not as violently. "But I don't feel like your girlfriend when I'm being shoved into a closet. I just feel like a pair of breasts and an open mouth."

John stares ahead nonchalantly. "That's because you're not my girlfriend, Cleo."

She lets go of his hand completely and scoffs. She shoves her own hands into her pockets -- John's pockets -- and watches her feet on the sidewalk. Her shiny black boots tick against the pavement, her movements slow and even steadier now that she doesn't have the boy's support. "Some girls like being girlfriends, too."

John sighs, shaking his head in exasperation. "We've been over this, Cleo. I don't date, but you like me and you're hot."

Cleo clenches her jaw. "That's a shitty thing to say, JFK. Don't you like me, too?"

JFK shrugs. "I like your ass."

The girl rolls her eyes, quickening her pace to walk in front of John. She slows down again, realising that the bottoms of her new boots are too slippery to risk a pace faster than normal. "Whatever. We're almost to my house anyway."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Cleo lets out a huff before grabbing onto JFK for support again. She wraps her gloved hands around the loop his arm makes as it sticks out of his pocket. "I'm not gonna argue with you when we're right on the verge of a make-out session," she says.

"I thought you didn't want to be used for your body."

She shrugs before giving the shameless answer, "I don't, but you give exceedingly good head."

John F. Kennedy smirks. "Oh, you bet I do."

Cleo blushes, and tries to hide her face from John.

"But I can't today."

“What?” She asks. “Why?”

"Because I've got a lot of homework," he says, knowing it's a half-assed excuse.

Cleopatra turns to him, her eyebrow raised. "You don't do homework, John."

"I have to help Van Gogh today," John explains.

"Van Gogh?" Cleo repeats. John nods. "He needs your help?"

John rolls his eyes impatiently, wondering why Cleo can't seem to get it. Wondering why everything about her is so superficial that she can't understand that he has a best friend; why she isn't the only one who matters. "No, he doesn't need my help, he just doesn't like being alone on Friday nights."

"Neither do I," Cleo protests, batting her eyes desperately. She means the action to come off as flirty, but she knows she's going to lose this fight.

"So call some of your other friends. Abe, Joan-"

"Abe Lincoln and Joan of Arc are both cool enough to have plans on a Friday night," she combats.

JFK smirks. "Surely you won't let them be cooler than you."

Before Cleo can protest, they are walking up her driveway, her hands still wrapped around his arm. John walks her up the three steps to her front stoop, whirling her around so her back is to the door and her face is to him. He holds her gloved hands delicately, pretending to feel bad about blowing off his hot not-girlfriend to go spend time with his emotionally deprived best friend. It does sound depressing and lame when he hears it in his own head, but there's no going back now.

"Call me tonight?" Cleo asks, the slightest hint of a beg in her voice. She tries to hide it again under a flirtatious lilt, but it falls flat for the second time this afternoon. Cleo already knows what JFK is going to say.

"I never call, Cleo. People who are dating call, and I-"

Cleo cuts him off with an exasperated eye roll. "-don't date. I know."

"So why did you ask?"

Cleo shrugs. "I don't know. But I'm going now."

Nonetheless, she steps toward John for her expected kiss. He leans down to give her one, as per their afternoonly routine, but it doesn't bury itself as deep as usual. John keeps his mouth closed, despite Cleo's best efforts to engage him in the endeavour. When she realises her plan isn't going to work, she pulls away and scrambles into her house, swiftly shutting the door behind her to close off her embarrassment from the rest of the world. She has enough to worry about it seeping through the cracks.

***

JFK knocks on his best friend's door nearly ten minutes later, his feet sopping wet in his tennis shoes. He'd made a mistake when dressing that morning. He could see the snow intruding the sidewalk from his bedroom window, but he'd still opted for his sneakers, full of breathable holes and heat-accommodating fabrics. His big toe feels like it could snap off at any moment. He thinks if he were to take off his cotton sock and look at it, his toe would be blackened with the final stages of frostbite.

Vincent Van Gogh answers the door himself, wrapped in a fleece blanket and feet smothered in three layers of sock. Kennedy can't help but feel a little bit jealous, sure his toes are nice and cozy in their thick woollen fortress.

"JFK," Van Gogh greets the boy, standing aside to let him through the door. Van Gogh wonders how Kennedy ever could've noticed him at school; he stands at 5'5” while the varsity cross country runner was 6'1" last time he measured. Van Gogh is often a traffic cone to be tripped over.

"Sorry I'm so late. Cleo was bitching at me," JFK apologises.

"That's okay. I'm used to being alone," Van Gogh shrugs.

"But I know you especially hate Friday nights. You hate when there are sports games because the town gets loud and the drunken yelling echoes through the neighbourhood, bouncing off of the shingles and spinning like tops in your ears -- ear."

Van Gogh scoffs. "Spare me the poetry, Kennedy. You don't need to romanticise my mental illness, okay? It's not fucking fun."

"I thought you liked all that flowery prose -- all that girly shit."

The shorter boy shakes his head, feeling even smaller under Kennedy's scrutiny. "Don't talk down to me. And just because literature is written like a painting doesn't mean it's 'girly'. You like my artwork, don't you?"

"I like the one you did for AP art last year... the self-portrait."

Van Gogh smiles internally, secretly pleased with his best friend's answer. "I never thought I'd get a real compliment out of you, Kennedy."

"I compliment you!" He protests.

Van Gogh shakes his head, still wearing his smile. His lips are like daisies soaked in blood -- full and dripping. "Not without coating it in some condescending insult."

"Whatever, Gogh. You didn't want to be alone, and I'm here. So what now?"

"Well, so long as I'm holding you hostage, you may as well do some homework."

"I don't do homework," JFK reminds him.

Van Gogh smirks. "I know that, Kennedy. I just had to remind you of your morals before you go off and give me an honest compliment again. Weirds me out when you go soft, even for me."

JFK follows Van Gogh to his bedroom. The hallway walls are oddly bare and would go without notice if they hadn't been painted a murky blue. No pictures are hung, which strikes Kennedy as uncomfortably odd every time he visits his best friend's house. JFK's dads have hundreds of pictures of him stuffed into each nook and cranny of their house -- it's striking to see a pair of parents who care so little about documenting their child's early years.

Gogh pushes open the door to his room tentatively, almost as if he's scared there'll be an apparition seated on his bed. He shudders at the thought, trying to shake it off by opening the door all the way. He sits on a chair instead of the bed, nervous to accidentally sit on top of the ghost and give it a perfect chance to tunnel its way up into his organs. JFK notices the boy's shuddering and raises an eyebrow, taking note of the closed window and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Who knew such a small boy could be so hopeless at keeping warm?

"Cold?" Kennedy asks, and Van Gogh looks up from the spot on his hand where he'd been anxiously picking at a scab. "And don't do that; the skin's almost healed," he adds.

Van Gogh narrows his eyes at the boy on his bed. "Since when do you care whether or not my scabs are healed?"

JFK shrugs, nervous to admit that he feels like he has to care since his friend's parents so obviously don't.

"Sorry I snapped," Van Gogh covers quickly. "Reflex."

Kennedy nods dismissively as if to show that he understands.

A couple seconds tick by, filling the room like a hose in a swimming pool. The time collects in the bedroom, spilling into every corner and fault line crack of the walls. It begins to overflow, and that's when Van Gogh can't stand the silence anymore. He invited Kennedy over so he wouldn't have to drown in stillness. Why can't JFK talk, dammit? Why is he so self-absorbed that he can't carry on a conversation for longer than five minutes at a time?

"Do you wanna read a book?" Van Gogh suggests, but it comes out in an urgent blurt. Maybe that's for the best. It gets Kennedy's attention.

"I don't read books."

Van Gogh rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a violent fire from embarrassment. "That's because you don't have the attention span to," he spits. "I could read it to you."

JFK's head snaps up. Gogh's cheeks darken an even deeper shade of red and he can feel his heartbeat in his face. Fuck, he thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Okay," Kennedy says at last. "Read me a bedtime story." His overconfident, annoyingly-flirty tone is back, and Van Gogh smiles in relief. The blood drains from his cheeks and his heartbeat follows, little by little.

He excuses himself from his chair to slide a book off of his shelf. Kennedy lies down on the bed, his head on the pillow and his too-long legs spilling over the edge. "Give me a blanket," he demands, clearly serious about the "bedtime" thing. Van Gogh rolls his eyes, but fishes a blanket out of his bottom dresser drawer and throws it over to Kennedy nonetheless. JFK has just finished unfolding the blanket and throwing it over himself when Van Gogh settles back into his chair, lifting the cover of the book with his long fingers gingerly. His nails grow out past his fingertips which is normally a girlish look, but Kennedy can't help but wash his eyes over the boy's hands anyway. It doesn't look girlish on Van Gogh. Nothing looks girlish on Van Gogh.

[elizabeth-234]

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Sixteen: Civil War 

Summary so far from previous chapter: Here's a summary of the previous chapter: Peter goes to upstate New York with his team plus Flash and Ned. They all have fun with some heart to heart conversations about the disaster that was the end of their project because of the trip to Oscorp. It's summer with two weeks back to school. Peter reflects on what happened with Mr. Stark with much angst and sadness. He's also working himself too hard with two jobs, one at a coffee shop and the other at a radio supply store called Barry's. It is there that Peter finds himself watching the news as Civil War happens. Close footage of the event is released and the world watches as two superheroes battle it out. Peter stumbles home and calls Mr. Stark to make sure he's okay only to get a voicemail. He doesn't leave a message. 

Chapter Seventeen: Reflection and Realizations 

Peter always felt at odds with the world. From his youth – the time waking up alone in the hospital and going through middle school with laughter following at his back – left the impression of permanent displacement. The uncomfortable foreignness he sometimes felt inside his own skin was nothing new. Peter’s preference for a quiet room over something loud was strange to people. Sam Carlson called him a freak and at the time Peter cried. When no one stood up for him he believed it was true. What else would explain the differences between him and everyone else?

At home, his family knew and loved his differences. Ben wore his varsity jacket with pride. Peter would run up to him and beg to wear it, loving how the plush leather draped around his shoulders. Hoping one day he could wear his own like Ben. Peter could remember Ben’s excited ramblings. All the plans he made for Peter - with Peter. When he fell short of those dreams, Ben still loved him.

Ben took him to ice cream outings after spelling bees and pushing Peter to believe in himself no matter what. He showed Peter that sometimes, with special people, those differences weren’t considered bad but unique. Like his quirks were interesting instead of outlandish.

With the anniversary of Ben’s death approaching at the end of the week and now Germany, the differences felt like too much. His skin itched. He wanted to destroy his phone and hide under the blankets in his room. He also wanted to plop himself down in front of five monitors and make sure he didn’t miss anything.

It was a week since Germany. Seven days of news stations repeating words and phrases over and over again. Their pantomime words were pointless and flat but Peter couldn’t do anything but watch them. He had to make sure there wasn’t a speck of information missed. What if new injuries came to light? What if, after the bloody fight there was more violence and fear? The smallest word could incite the people of New York and the world to shift to a strange unease. To look at their heroes as lesser because of an in-house fight. Would they be wrong do so? So, hours of the tv he watched.

Today, though was different. He climbed out of bed to drag himself to the couch in their living room. It was still pushed to the side of the wall so May could roll her yoga mat out in the middle of the room so he had to sit at the end and crane his neck to see.

Peter yawned and stretched his back before turning on the tv. Both hope and dread tangled in his stomach as he waited to see if anything new happened while he was asleep. The first thing he noticed was the absence of colors. There was no red and gold; no red, white, and blue either. Instead a story played about a new workout fad on the morning show. Both hosts tried to squat in heels and a tight suit and all Peter could do was watch in disbelief.

He moved to the edge of the couch, digging his hands into the sides of the cushions. Peter switched the channels back and forth but …  there was nothing. Not a single story on the Avengers.

The day passed in a blur after that. Peter sat in the back of Barry’s listening to the radio as he worked. The Yaesu FT – 891 sat exposed in front of him on the table. Gears and widgets crowded the small paneling of the front.

Still no word about it on the radio. Iron Man, Captain America, The Avengers. Nothing.

It was incomprehensible. How had the world already moved on? The arguably largest powers of the world clashed in epic proportions and a week later no one cared. Everyone else was getting back to normal.

Peter’s whole world had changed. Maybe in minuscule terms but at a fundamental level. If this was what it meant to be at odds with the world then maybe it was a good thing. If he could remember, keep those relentless attacks and trembling fists in mind, then maybe it was worth it.

Before their upstate getaway. Peter scowled at the news. He hated how these strangers gossiped and mongered any information they had about Mr. Stark. Chest heaving from running. Peter watched from the side of the street as Iron Man was on the tv. Mr. Stark wearing his superhero persona complete with the large glasses and faux smile. When the woman who walked up beside him asked him who the man really was he was blindsided. Who else would he be besides Iron Man?

Peter didn’t understand at the time.

It was when he saw Mr. Stark, when Iron Man had fallen to the ground. Blood stained the red metal dripping onto the concrete underneath him. Peter realized he was as bad as the people in the hallway of the Tower like the man who spilled coffee on himself as their boss walked by all those months ago. He was the one staring at the man from behind glass – through a pair of Mr. Stark’s rose tinted glasses.

All those months he’d spent in knots because “it was Iron Man, after all.” Isn’t that what he thought before his presentation? All those dinners and movie nights with the man and Peter never viewed him as a person.

He was Iron Man.

But he was also Tony Stark.

Peter had never crossed that bridge or made the connection until now. His stomach churned at how long he’d willfully been ignorant.

Mr. Stark was a real human being made of flesh and blood. Not someone who didn’t care if their ‘past indiscretions’ were picked apart on the regular. Not a figurehead of a huge company or a symbol to the people. He was arrogant and flawed and … a kind person.

He was someone who fed Peter his favorite orders and watched boring school movies with him. He worried that Peter would get home safely ever time. He reached out to Peter, lifted him up, and all those months he worked with Peter. Mentored him as softly as he could when Peter was in no state to receive help.

It was like his eyes were opening after a long sleep.

When Ben passed it tore something out of Peter. He closed himself off from people. The hurt of him leaving left a bitter knot in Peter. One he never wanted to feel again. A hurt he would do anything to make sure he didn’t feel it again. The pain in his chest, squeezing and weighing heavy until he couldn’t breathe followed him for months

In the anguish, the solution became about connection. It was his connection that hurt, their love that was leaving this pain in Peter long after Ben was gone. If it wasn’t for that, maybe he wouldn’t be hurting as much. If, Peter had kept a distance, maybe Ben would still be alive. So, he turned his life was on autopilot. Didn’t allow himself to get attached to anyone and he was alone. He was getting by. It was all the better for it, he told himself.

Then the S.T.A.R.K. posters took over Midtown and something changed. A small spark ignited, just barely smoldering, but aflame all the same. Peter wanted to participate. He wanted to win. For the first time in a long time, he battled his insecurities and wrote his name on the paper outside the school office. Fingers trembled against the concrete wall but looking back on it now, it was the first step to reaching out and making a new connection, though at the time he didn’t see it that way.

His back still hurt from the hours spent hunched over at his desk scribbling in notebooks and testing materials. The knot in his stomach urged him to find a better solution. The recipe needed tweaking and the equation needed changing to make it the best. If he could find the right formula then maybe he could help someone. Maybe, the words taunted him, he could’ve saved Ben.

It was a lifeline just out of his reach. Peter struggled and grappled to grab hold and pull himself up even after hearing Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark spoke about him as he hid behind the plants. Not after the tour and the internship began could he breath again.

Not until the lab. The quiet moments in lab two were like the first relief of that pressure. The first quiet after the storm. Working next to Mr. Stark he found the ability to breathe again. Just for a few hours he could be present in himself, not feel the uncomfortable itch of being in his own skin, and just be. Only now did he realize he was sitting in the eye of the storm while the winds raged around him, waiting to move away and sink him into their tempest clouds.  

Mr. Stark made effort after effort to reach him. He asked about May and with genuine interest asked about school and life. Peter’s face turned hot as he remembered the glass of water and medicine waiting for him on the nightstand when he insisted on going to the tower when he was ill.

Why hadn’t he realized before?

Maybe it was because of Ben and his parents. Maybe Peter was scared to lose someone again. He didn’t want to ever put on a black, ill-fitting suit and hear the flat, kind words that never really captured what was special about a person again.

The man tried to show him but Peter wasn’t in a place to receive.

And that made the ache in his chest throb all the more.

There was nothing more he wished than to be thrown that rope again but it was gone now, pulled back to the safety of the boat while Peter was just now realizing he was lost at sea.

The why wasn’t important. It didn’t matter what Mr. Stark was getting out of it. It didn’t matter why he picked Peter or that he used him in whatever was happening with Oscorp. All of that stung but it didn’t negate the real moments when Mr. Stark became someone he could look up to. Someone he could look to for help.

What mattered was he showed Peter who he was underneath the larger than life image. Mr. Stark was a man who hadn’t noticed the view from his obnoxiously large tower until Peter pointed it out. He was the one who burned frozen pizza but new how to build rockets and whatever else his imagination dreamed up.

He had faults but he was trying.

Mr. Stark was a man Peter would never know further.

Again, his world changed without really changing at all. The subtle self-awareness became sharper and he could see, could finally admit what he wanted.

He wanted to visit with Julia and collaborate again, study together like friends. He wanted to hang out with Ned and Flash and just laugh without feeling so damn guilty. Peter wanted to go back to the Tower and spend his afternoons working on projects. Watch movies and make frozen pizza, not burned preferably. He thought of his promise to May, the feel of her arms impossibly strong around him and their words whispered together. He had thought he’d meant it when he said he would try for himself and her.

Now, though, he knew it was more of a child’s promise. Something said without much thought to how to progress.

“I want you to start taking care of yourself and loving yourself. I know it’s not easy and it downright sucks most of the time but can you try to do that?” May had said.

Had he tried?  Did he make any progress this summer?

At first, he worked himself to the bone. Tired from waking up and going to bed from school, Barry’s, and The Bitter End. There was purposefully no room to think and reflect, which was how Peter wanted it. While self-reflection was one of his strong suits, it was also a downfall. He would get trapped in these endless cycles of overthinking and doubting himself.

But it wasn’t sustainable. He was only one, arguably asocial, individual. It was too much at all hours of the day. His time at The Bitter End came to just that with loud shouting from Cindy and a year ban from the store. Peter wasn’t sure if the latter was a joke or not.

Working one job with school so far was working. Barry was a low maintenance boss and if he stayed on top of homework, school wasn’t too bad. Still, he missed going to the Tower after school. Working collaboratively with his team and spending time there after.

Peter sighed, rubbing his chest absentmindedly before shutting the radio off and leaning back in his chair.

How could the world move on so quick? How, after everything the Avengers did for them, could they just talk about workouts and other mundane things?

He took his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. His thumb hovered over the enter button as he watched the blinking light highlight Mr. Stark’s number.

“Damn.” He said under his breath and closed the phone again. After that last time, he didn’t have the courage to call the number again or leave a voicemail.

Peter sank forward. His head rested into the curve of his elbows on the desk as he thought of what he should do next.

-

Despite his adversity to it, change came into his life whether he wanted it or not. Uncaring at the best of times and brutal at the worst.

Ned stood beside him and a glazed over Flash to the other side. The former was rambling on about a last-minute vacation he took with his parents to Toronto, while the latter didn’t even attempt to be impressed.  

“- and there’s this little town where they perform all these plays every year. We saw A Midsummer Night's Dream and boy was that way hornier than I thought.” 


“Well, if that isn’t fascinating but some of us have to get to class.”


“Don’t act all high and mighty, Flash. We’re in the same first period as you, dude.” Ned winked at Peter.

Flash was still Flash but he’d become less rough as time wore on. Ned seemed to have that effect on people, Julia too. Flash would gripe and grumble but to Peter, he seemed happier now than their freshman year. He wondered if maybe Flash had wanted a fresh start in high school as much as him. Peter grinned at him and rolled his eyes in good nature with Flash as Ned continued giving them a rundown of the play.

He looked around at the other students comparing schedules and groaning over their new teachers. A group of short students walked by them. Peter froze at their height difference. Was he that short last year? It felt weird but good to see how much he’d grown. They were no longer the small fish on campus. He grinned.

Peter followed Flash and Ned to their English first period. As luck, or not, would have it Mrs. Brzozowski was teaching their class again. Her scowl spoke volumes for how she felt about her schedule change.

He groaned along with the rest of the class when they received their assigned seating. Setting his backpack under his seat, Peter took a seat by the window and managed not to gloat at the good spot. Middle back and next to the window. Plenty of fodder for daydreams, though he suspects their novels will keep him engaged through the year. He missed Austen but was excited to read some American Literature this year.

By the time he made it home, Peter’s head was pounding. Lunch was thankfully quiet because he managed to find a spot in the library. Ned visited him before he was off to greet Midge and everyone. Peter sat in relative silence thinking over his peanut butter and jelly made from the heels of the bread (he’d have to get some more after work) about the school year ahead and the one he left behind last June. All the while he resisted the urge to look at his phone notifications.

Peter knew that he wouldn’t find anything there.

Tomorrow he could go and eat with everyone, Peter decided. By then the first day jitters would subside, at least a bit, and it would be nice to see Midge and Jaimik again. Not so much to hear about Mike’s latest antics.

As was his routine after work and homework, Peter climbed into bed adjusting his t-shirt from clinging to his back and curled up under the covers. After much tossing and turning and entirely too much thinking, he fell asleep.

Peter woke in a sweat clawing at his chest. The sweat soaked his shirt making it damp to the touch. His chest heaved from the great pressure threatening to explode out. His hands trembled and he threw them in front of him. There was no blood. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t the rabbit or being torn apart as his subconscious wanted him to believe.

Peter couldn’t stop the ragged breathes. He tried to concentrate on his heart but it burned in his chest, the raging rhythm seemed to take over his body, pulsing in his head and stomach. Blindly, Peter reached out and pulled the notebook from the crevice of his bed and wall.  

Sometimes he would read through them but today he hugged them close to his chest. His fingers traced the indents and now fraying page ends until he could finally breath deep and steady.

It was only then in the still and dusk of not quite morning that Peter realized he was crying.

Thank you for reading.

Next Chapter Eighteen: Existing 

[dontmindthefangirling]

The Heartbreak Prince {p.p.}

chapter 1

gif not mine - credit to owner

Bad Boy!Peter Parker x Reader AU 

Summary: The heart is fragile. Easily broken, difficult to build back up, and Peter Parker knows that. Maybe his own heart is fractured and that’s why he goes around breaking others. Will you let him break yours?

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, enemies to lovers, suggestive conversations, language, violence, both reader and Peter are 18+

prologue | series masterlist

-

You sat in the back of your calculus class, watching as students filtered in and took their seats. You were mindlessly doodling in the corner of your notebook, trying your best to keep your nerves down. You had never had to adjust to a new school before, and being in your senior year, it made it so much more difficult. 

You felt like everyone knew everyone in this school, and you let out a huff as the teacher walked to the front of the room to get class started. You wished you could have just stayed home and hide under the covers. 

About halfway through class (it was a miracle you stayed awake this long), your teacher instructed you to pair up and work on a few problems that were on the board. Luckily, you were pretty good at calculus, and hoped you wouldn’t need to partner with anyone. You’d prefer to work by yourself. 

“Hey, want to work together?” a voice said. “You’re new, right?”

You turned towards the voice, offering a smile at the boy that spoke to you. You wanted to work alone, but he was giving you such a genuine grin that you couldn’t help but nod.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N).”

“Ned. Nice to meet you (Y/N),” he said, still grinning. He glanced at your notebook, and saw that you had scribbled down the answers to all five problems already, and his eyes widened.

“Whoa, are you like a math genius?” he asked incredulously. 

You laughed. “I don’t think so. Calculus just comes easily to me.”

“Well, would you mind showing me,” Ned asked sheepishly. “Cause I’m so lost.”

You nodded. “Sure, here, let me see your paper.”

-

“That sucks you had to move senior year,” Ned sighed as you walked out of calculus together. You shrugged your shoulders sighing. 

“I’ve tried to get over it at this point,” you said. “It’s not my dad’s fault he got transferred.”

“Hey it’s not all bad,” Ned said. “You got to meet me!”

You laughed, nodding. “Fair point.”

“I’m sure you’ll like Midtown,” Ned said. “There’s a lot of cool people here-”

Ned’s sentence was cut off when the color drained from his face as he looked towards the doors that had just opened into the hallway. Four guys started walking towards you, and you could’ve sworn if you were in a movie they would have been walking in slow-mo. 

They were each dressed in varsity football jackets except for the one in the middle. He was in a dark leather jacket over a black t-shirt and dark jeans. It was like he was the embodiment of the color black. His friends that surrounded him were laughing about something on one of their phones, but he didn’t seem to move a muscle in his face. 

That was until he spotted you and Ned. 

It was like his eyes narrowed almost instantly, and his pace quickened as he made his way towards you, his friends following close behind. 

“Turn around, quick,” Ned hissed to you, going to open his locker, but suddenly, leather jacket guy was next to him, placing his hand on Ned’s shoulder, like they were friends, but the fear on Ned’s face said otherwise. You watched, furrowing your eyebrows. 

“Hey there Netty,” the boy hissed, his friends standing around you. One of them eyed you up and down and you cringed, trying your hardest not to smack him in the jaw. 

“What do you want Peter?” Ned sighed, sounding defeated. 

“I thought we talked about you not even looking in my direction,” the boy, Peter, growled. 

“Can you let go of my shoulder?” Ned groaned, ignoring Peter’s threat. Peter chuckled bitterly, letting go and stepping back. He then noticed you. 

“Who’s this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m Ned’s friend,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Oh really?” Peter almost laughed, his friends around you chuckling. “I’m sure I’d know if a pretty little thing like you was friends with Ned.”

You scowled at him, keeping your arms crossed over your chest and stepping closer to him, not liking the way he looked so smug, and especially not liking the way he talked to Ned, who seemed like the kindest person on the planet. 

“If I were you, I’d step away,” you said lowly, looking up Peter and narrowing your eyes at him. Peter mimicked your arms, crossing them over his own chest and cocking an eyebrow. 

“Or what?” he almost whispered. 

“You really don’t want to find out,” you hissed. Peter stared at you, your eyes locked, and although your heart was beating quickly from nerves, you didn’t step away. 

Finally, Peter chuckled and looked to his friends, gesturing for him to follow him. 

“C’mon guys, I can’t be around pathetic people for too long,” Peter said, earning laughter from his friends. He gave Ned one more pat on the shoulder, before walking away, but not before eyeing you down, to which you stared right back until he turned around and disappeared down the busy hallway. 

“Who the fuck was that jerk?” you demanded, letting out the breath you had been holding and turning to Ned who looked a little less pale than before. Ned sighed heavily while putting some books from his locker into his backpack. 

“That was Peter Parker,” Ned said, with a hint of sadness dripping from each syllable. “He runs this school.”

“He’s an asshole.”

Ned laughed bitterly and nodded, shutting his locker. “Trust me, I know.”

“Does he bother you a lot?” you asked, partly because you were worried about your new friend, and partly because you wanted to clock Peter right in the sweet spot the next time he even approached Ned. 

“No, not really. At least, not that much anymore. It’s really only when our paths cross,” Ned said, looking in the direction Peter and his friends had walked. 

“What do you mean?” you asked curiously, cocking your head to the side. 

Ned shifted his weight on his feet and let out a deep breath. “He used to be my best friend.”

You were shocked by this to say the least. The way Peter approached Ned, acting like he was nothing but the dirt under his shoe made your blood boil. How could Ned ever be friends with someone like that? 

“What happened?” you asked gently as you walked with Ned to your next class. 

The color drained from Ned’s face and he stopped in front of the boys’ bathroom. 

“Uh, I’ll tell you another time, okay,” he said weakly. “You have my number, so just like text me later, and thanks...for, you know, standing up for me.”

“Of course,” you said slowly, confused at Ned’s sudden change in demeanor. He smiled halfheartedly to you before disappearing inside the boys’ bathroom, leaving you alone in the corridors. 

You sighed and walked to your next class. 

-

Peter’s friends were laughing so loudly you could hear them across the cafeteria. You glared at them while picking at your lunch while Ned and his girlfriend Betty sat across from you. You liked Betty, she was sweet and she showed you around the school during your free period. 

“They’re obnoxious aren’t they?” you groaned, biting into your sandwich. 

Betty rolled her eyes. “They think they’re the shit.”

You smiled, and took a sip of water. “So, how long have you guys been dating?”

Betty smiled at Ned, and you saw an exchange of love between the twinkle in their eyes. 

“Since last summer,” Betty said with a grin. “We actually finally got to know each other on our trip to Europe.”

“Best trip ever,” Ned grinned pressing a kiss to Betty’s temple. You smiled at them. 

“What about you, (Y/N)? Any significant other?” Betty asked. 

“Nah,” you said shaking your head. “I had a boyfriend at my old school, but we broke up about a year ago.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” Ned pouted. 

You shrugged. “It’s fine. It was a while ago.”

Suddenly, you looked up just as Peter and his friends were walking by your lunch table. You looked up at just the moment that Peter’s eyes fell on you, and your eyes locked. You glared at him, sending the best daggers you could muster up in his direction, and you caught the way he rolled his eyes as he turned away from you. 

“How could you be friends with him?” you asked Ned. Ned sighed, looking pale again, just like he had this morning and you wondered what had happened between them that would cause such a reaction. 

“It’s uh, a long story.”

You wanted to press more, but the bell rang and you stood to throw your trash away and head to your last few classes of the day. 

-

Once school ended, you were on your way home after saying goodbye to Ned and Betty. You put your headphones in and drowned out the New York sounds with music, walking towards the subway. 

You had to read the subway signs multiple times to figure out where you were going and how to get back to your apartment, but eventually you put the puzzle together and got on the train going in that direction. 

You leaned against the window, looking out at the passing New York skyline while you thought about your day. It was a pretty good first day, and you had already made two new friends who seemed great, so that was a plus. The only negative of the day was running into Peter Parker, and you absolutely hated the way he carried himself, and you hated even more the way he talked to Ned.

The train slowly came to a stop, and you got off, trying to take in your surroundings at the busy station. You were trying to read the signs, to figure out which way to go to get to your apartment when someone bumped into you. 

“Oh shit, sorry-”

“It’s fine, I-”

Once again, you came face to face with Peter Parker, and both of your faces fell at the sight of the other. Peter instantly scowled, taking a step away from you, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Watch where you’re going,” you spat, turning on your heel. 

“I could say the same to you,” he grumbled. You glared at him over your shoulder and kept walking towards one of the exits. You didn’t even care if it was the wrong one. 

“Hey! You never told me your name!” Peter called. You almost laughed. Was he being serious?

You turned around and shook your head. 

“You don’t need to know it.”

With that, you continued towards the exit, quickening your pace because wow did you hate that boy already. Not to mention you were itching to get home and see your parents, the only familiar thing you had left in this world. 

You turned the music up louder in your ears to drown out your thoughts and headed home. 

-

“Honey! Could you run to the market at the end of the street and pick up some eggs?” your mom called from the kitchen. “I can’t believe I forgot them at the store.”

“Sure, Mom,” you said, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping it over your body. You had just finished your homework and had curled up in bed reading one of your favorite books, but you were always willing to help your mom. 

You jogged down the stairs of your apartment complex and into the dusk streets of Queens, once again drowning out the city sounds with music. You were about five feet from the door to Delmar’s Market when someone grabbed your sweatshirt hood, yanking you into the closest alley. You let out a surprised scream, as your back hit the asphalt, and you were staring up at the stars. A man stood over you, his face hidden by the darkness of his hood. 

No no no no, this could not be happening, and this would not happen. 

“Scream, and I’ll kill you,” he growled, pulling out a knife. Your breath got caught in your throat, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. You scrambled backwards, trying to get away from him, but he was much bigger and faster than you. 

You closed your eyes in fear when you heard thwip thwip thwip. You opened your eyes at the strange sound, surprised to see your assailant stuck to the nearest wall, trapped in...webbing? 

Your eyes were wide as you saw Spider-Man, the same one you’ve heard about in the news, standing before you, with his hand extended. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, almost shakily, like he was scared too. You nodded numbly, but you weren’t sure you had processed what had happened yet. You gingerly took his gloved hand, and he pulled you to your feet. 

“I-I think so,” you said. You could hear police sirens in the distance. “Did..did you call them?” 

Spider-Man nodded. “Yeah, I did. Can I take you home?”

You nodded, hugging your arms to your chest, for some sort of comfort.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Spider-Man asked. 

“Uh, I don’t think so,” you mumbled, feeling so much colder than before you left your apartment. 

“Good, because you’ll have to hold on,” Spider-Man said. He wrapped on arm around your waist and you placed the other around his shoulders. You weren’t sure what to expect, but the weightlessness was very surprising as Spider-Man leaped into the air, swinging you both from building to building as you told him where you apartment was. 

Your hair was blowing everywhere as you hid your face in the crook of Spider-Man’s neck, not wanting to look down. You weren’t afraid of heights, but you were afraid of free-falling, so maybe you were a little scared. 

Finally, you reached the fire escape outside your room, where Spider-Man let you down gently. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. You nodded again. 

“Yeah, I’m just going to sit with my parents,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” Spider-Man said, saluting you, and earning a small laugh slip from your lips. 

“I appreciate it,” you said. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome....” Spider-Man trailed off.

“(Y/N),” you said. “My name is (Y/N).”

If you could see him, you were sure he was smiling behind the mask. 

“I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, (Y/N),” Spider-Man said. “But just remember, you always have someone looking out for you here in Queens.”

You smiled at his words and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man at your service,” he said with a bow, earning another laugh from you. He saluted you once more before jumping off the fire escape, causing you to gasp. But he quickly reappeared, swinging from building to building and disappearing into the night. 

You sighed to yourself, quickly slipping through your window and going to find your parents. 

You were very lucky Spider-Man was there. And you kind of wanted to see him again. 

-

chapter 2

taglist @justanothercynicalgenzkid // @ ilytomholland // @ star-holland // @ludiclove // @clipopex-writing // @imboredandneedwritingprompts // @futuremrspeterparkerholland // @someinsanefangirl // @tiny-friggin-human // @toms-irish-girl // @santa-feigh // 

[filthysmile]

𝔸 𝔹𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝔽𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕄𝕖𝕤𝕤 || Short Drabble. 

(Tw; Gore/Blood/Violence/Murder)

Footsteps in the snow, mud caked and soaked through like spray paint on a canvas as he stalked his prey. The poor girl, blood covered and injured head to toe from both knife and broken glass alike. Her breath visible in the raging storm.

Terrified hues of emerald turning to view a dark and tormenting mask that dared her on with it’s haunting smile. She’d never truly been scared of Frank before. But something was different today. Something about him was  - OFF.

“Please Frank.. Just. Just let me go.. Hook me. Just get it over with.” She begged him, getting no answer other than a huff that spat into maniacal hyena like laughter. Watching as he cocked his head and pushed her to keep crawling.

He loved this. The rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins harder than any drug he’d tried before. More exhilarating than his first robbery and more entertaining than a knife fight.  Her fear. Her pleading. If not for the way it grated upon his ears, he’d think it was music.

“Keep crawling.” He taunted. Stepping forward and raising his sneaker sharply before slamming it down into the small of her back. Earning himself a sharp blood choked scream from the runner he had in his grasp. In normal rounds, he’d have killed her and gotten it over with. But tonight. Tonight he was pissed. Having his own small injuries from getting hit just one too many times with pallets and jabbed in the shoulder with glass by the others. 

He sought to take his bottled rage out on them all.  Meg, being the last of four to feel the fire of his short burning temper.

Growling unpleasantly, he got sick of the snails pace they took and grabbed her ankle, turning her round’ and dragging her into the lodge as she kicked and shrieked for him to let go. Pulling her across the old rotted boards of the resort as her blood left a trail as brilliant red as fresh paint.

“Shut the fuck up, Don’t you wanna see your fucking friends?” Frank cursed at her, turning round and kicking her before grabbing her by the hair and pulling her up enough to see the entrance of the basement. Ignoring her thick tears as they streamed down her face in worried horror. 

“Better watch your step” He teased, pushing her down the basement stairwell and following slowly behind.  Watching her tumble and cry out with every heavy thud. Pushing his favored hunting knife into the pockets of his varsity jacket and stomping down the stairs. Walking past her into the expansive room. Bandaged, bloodstained and tattooed hand reaching out to touch gently at the four split hook. 

“What’s wrong Meg, you look a little fucking lost.” He asked her, piercing blue hues looking to her through the pinholes of his mask. Her saddened and confused face giving rise to his bloodlust as he crossed his arms and leaned against the large wooden post. He waited for her to notice. To see and realize just what was wrong here.

“You’re a liar.” She snarled, wiping the pained tears from her heavy eyes and mustering what strength she could to hold her ground against him. From all she saw, there was no one here but them and the Entity’s alter. The pungent smell of death and rot filling her nostrils as she grit her teeth. She was used to this horrid stench, the look of death that surrounded her. But as her visibility cleared and her senses took in more than just the feeling of pain, she noticed something was different.

The basement was more... Red and Wet than normal.  Eyes scanning the room as she looked up to the dripping ceiling. Horrid ideas entering her mind like a feverish nightmare she choked on her thoughts and stared Frank down in fear and worry for her friends.

“Where are they. WHAT DID YOU DO!?” Meg shrieked at him. Hands hitting the blood soaked cement of the basement with anger and heartache. Only having her rage towards the Legion leader when he answered her with nothing more than a dark and twisted laugh. Watching as he opened his arms and showed off the mess of his work.

“ Whadd’ya mean ‘where are they’? They’re here Meg! A bit of em here, a bit of em there. Honestly, you’d think a looping bitch like yourself would be more thankful i brought you to see them at all. Or.. well, I guess i should fucking say.. what’s left of them.” Approaching her slowly as she tried to back away, he pulled his blade from his pocket and grabbed her ankle. Pulling her back towards him and close enough to raise and force down his hunting knife deep into her chest as hands desperately pushed his face and chest in some feeble attempt to make him stop. But it only fueled him on further as he gripped the hilt with both hands and carved through the soft flesh of her abdomen. Watching with a thrill as the life drained slowly from her eyes as he left her there.

“God you’re a stupid fuckin’ bitch. Can’t believe you actually thought i was tellin’ the truth about your friends. I only hooked their dumbasses.”

[randomimaginesforrandompeople]

Honestly I can't stand you | Lance Tucker *smut*

Summary: You had grown up next to Lance Tucker, also being a gymnast however he had ended up with a more succesful career in gymnastics then you, so you left and became something else. It's been some years and the gym has an anniversary where things...escalate.

A/N: I recently became o b s e s s e d with Sebastian Stan and can't wait to write more about him, I saw the bronze and loved the cocky asshole that is Lance Tucker. The song ''Peak'' by drake inspired me to write this and I highly suggest you listen to it while reading because I tried to follow that vibe.

warnings: smut, bad language, alcohol use

You were kinda dreading tonight. Hope, one of your gymnast-friends had forced you to come back to the gym. They were celebrating their 15 year anniversary and invited anyone who trains or had trained there to come. The reason you were dreading tonight was because you knew Lance 'the fucker' Tucker would also be there, probably making a pass at the younger gymnasts. Lance and you had trained together for a while, both being gifted gymnasts. However, he became succesful while you got injured and missed your shot. You left shortly after and had become a lawyer in the city. 

There had Always been a little tention between you and Lance but he was such an asshole that he had usually ruined it before it began. You were putting the final touches to your outfit, a little tight fitted black dress, heels and some simple jewellery. You were putting on some lipgloss and sprayed some hairspray in yout hair. Hope coincidentally arrived at the time you were done. She knocked on the door of your motel room, wearing her signature varsity jacket. ''Damn y/n trying to get fucked tonight?'' You blushed slighty, you had to admit that the thought has crossed your mind. You shook your head ''No just showing them what the city can do to you'' You winked her way as she laughed at you. 

The two of you arrived at the gym, you recognized a bunch of people and greeted all of them on your way to the drink table, you needed booze to get throught this. You didn't recognize a bunch of younger gymnasts, but how could you, you left 5 years ago. You were sipping your drink, looking around the room when you saw him, Lance, chatting with a group of teens, the ones he was probably coaching. You downed your drink and got a refill.

Lance was politely talking to his girls, they had excidetly rushed up to him and since he was their coach, he was obligated to talk to him, while all he wanted to do was talk to you. Yeah he had seen you come in, in that litle dress. He couldn't wait to talk you out of it. He excused himself from the girls and made his way to you ''y/n y/l/n, it's been too long darling'' You turned around, rolling your eyes. You had recognized the voice and already knew what was going to happen, and frankly you were way to sober for this. ''Fuck off Lance'' He smirked smugly ''Fiesty today? tell me love what has gotten into you? because I was planning on doing that'' You snorted and had to restrain yourself from bursting out in laughter ''Seriously? did you really think that would work?'' He laughed ''I could try'' he winked. You sighed. You had been drinking the whole night and you were starting to get a little tipsy. ''Wanna dance?'' He held his hand out for you, you nodded but slapped his hand down and walked to the make-shift dancefloor, Lance following close behind.

You slowly moved your hips to the beat, you felt Lance snake his arms on your hips holding you close against him, mimicking your movements. You were getting more and more into it, swaying your hips and pressing your ass into the body behind you. You could hear a groan, making you grin.You swayed your hips even more, basically grinding agaisnt him but keeping it PG. You could feel the bulge forming and grinned to yourself. You clearly had the upper hand and you wanted to tease the shit out of him. You didn't care anymore, you didn't need to like the guy for you to admit that he was hot. You had been attracted to him since you were teenagers and this was your time, besides you'd fly back home tommorow anyway. 

You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck, still moving to the beat. You were biting back a grin when you felt his hands move to your ass, you pressed closer against him and moved to whisper in his ear ''So Tucker, what does it feel like to have a hard-on at a work event?'' you smirked. You heared him grown ''It feels fucking terrible y/l/n, it fucking hurts and it doesn't help that you''re grinding against me and that all I can think about is ripping that little dress off of you'' You swallowed. Hard. that sounded so hot, the booze clouding your mind a little. ''Let's get out of here'' He grinned as he followed you closely, making sure nobody saw his bulge. You took his car as you had ridden with Hope. ''Your place or mine?'' You smiled ''I have an empty motel room '' ''Yours it is'' He said with a grin. You wanted to wipe that stupid grin off of his face so you palmed him through his jeans making him groan loudly ''Fuck'' he hissed as you did it again ''Fucking safe it, you''re going to kill me like this'' Now it was your turn to grin. 

He was way over the speed limit and you knew it but you didn't care once he pulled over to the motel you were staying at. The two of you sprinted out of the car and before you had even arrived at the door of your motelroom, his lips had found yours. The kiss was messy, tongue and teeth, desperate, the only reason you pulled away was to unlock the door. He was attacking your neck with kisses while you were working the lock and as soon as the door opened, he had spun you around, picked you up and was once again kissing you. Hard.

You kicked the door closed and wrapped your legs around his waist. All the pent up frustration came out and god did you want this. He put you down on the kitchen counter to remove his shirt and you did the same, the gymnastics had shaped him beautifully and you licked your lips in appreciation. However you shook your head once you saw the little peak of his tattoo come up ''Really Tucker? A medal tattoo around your dick?'' you snorted and he grinned ''Yeah, wanna see it?'' He winked at you. ''God, honestly I can't stand you'' In one swift motion he had his hand under your dress, pushing your lacy panties to the side and fingers feeling how wet you were. You gasped at the sudden motion and he hovered over you smirking ''Oh really? Cause it seems as if you like me an awful lot right now darling'' 

You decided to shut him up by kissing him, hands wandering around his muscular body as his riked up your dress to get more access. He pulled away and moved closer to your semi-clothed cunt ''Damn doll, if I had known you had such a pretty pussy I would've done this ages ago'' He let his finger swipe some of your juices and licked them off his finger ''You taste so fucking good'' He opened your legs more and sat in between them. You wanted to shove his pretty little face where you needed him the most, you were dripping in anticipation and couldn't wait any longer. Luckily he didn't want to wait anymore either and once you felt his tongue on your clit it was over. He was an expert, licking and sucking in all the right places. You wanted to lay down and experience it fully when he pulled away ''Oh no no babygirl, I want you to look me in the eyes when I do this'' He grinned and started eating you out again. You were looking him straight in the eyes, moan after moan leaving your lips. It was incredibly erotic to see him eating you out like that and it turned you on even more. He pushed a finger inside of you while sucking on your clit, curling his finger making you moan out his name. He started fingering you at a relentless pace and added another finger, you were close and he could feel it.

''Come on baby, I want you to come for me. Let me see you come undone'' He curled his fingers once again and there you went. Moaning his name loudly as you saw stars, he slowly rode out your high and went back up to kiss you. He oulled your panties down before he pulled down his jeans and boxers, his erection finally sprung free, slapping against his stomach, It was beautiful and you wanted inside of you more than anything you've ever wanted. 

He pulled a condom from his jeans pocket and quickly rolled it on, he pulled you closer to him and you suddenly realised you were still sitting on the kitchen counter. ''Should we move?'' He nodded and picked you up, he laid you down on the couch and wasted no time Climbing on top of you. ''Ready?'' You nodded and he slowly inserted himself in you, both of you lettting out a loud moan. ''You feel so fucking good around my dick, so fucking tight'' He started moving in a slow pace. ''Come on Tucker give it to me'' He smirked and pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, picking up the pace ''Well hun, it's good to see that you're still this flexible'' You rolled your eyes ''Just shut up and show me what you can do Tucker, I thought you were better than this'' Your words did exactly what you wanted them to do, it fueled his anger. He was now pounding into you, hitting just the right angle ''Fuck right there'' He grinned, his cocky atittude resurfacing.

''So fucking good'' all you could hear were moans and groans and the slapping of skin. ''F-fuck i'm c-c-close'' You stammered as he was hitting the right spot over and over again. His fingers found your clit, roughly circkling it, pushing you over the edge. Seeing you come, pushed him over the edge aswell as he came, moaning loadly. He pulled out of you and got rid of the condom. He was getting dressed again when you stopped him ''Wait, would you maybe wanna stay over?'' He laughed and made his way back to you ''Why?'' You grinned ''The night is still young, do you really want to miss round 2 or 3? maybe even 4?'' He grinned back at you, giving you a quick kiss ''Very good point darling, very good point''

[mikmikisnotcrack]

BTS as your Overprotective Brother

Maknae Line || Hyung Line

Pairing: Brother! BTS

Warnings: None

▪▪▪

Park Jimin

"(y/n) where are you going?" Your brother, Jimin, asks as he watches you take a few mirror selfies of your outfit. You were going to go to the karaoke bar with your friends, so you wore a simple spaghetti strap black dress that reached mid thigh, a beige varsity jacket and knee high boots. "Karaoke bar" You say as you turned around to face Jimin. "Do I look tarted enough?" You ask, adjusting the hem of the skirt as Jimin eyed you down suspisciously. "And why must you dress so... tart? When you're just going to a karaoke bar with who?" He asks. "Ah, I'm going with Hye Jin, Ji Woon, Hyung Min and Seo Woo." You reply, looking at Jimin.

"Could you at least wear something, I don't know, more conservative? I know I told you you could wear anything you want and have no shame, but you're our baby sister and you're going with mostly males. Now, as a male, you never know who could hit on you" Jimin says as he enters the room and closes the door. "Oppa, relax. Those three guys are head over heels for this one girl, you don't need to worry too much. Besides, if they did touch me anywhere, I'd do what you say. Kick em where it hurts" You say, raising up your fists to immitate a fighting stance. Jimin smiled widely at your cuteness, but dripped it after a few seconds. You tilted your head in confusion, why did Jimin suddenly frown? "You're cute sis, but seriously, wear shorts" He says. "Wait what?! I thought you were fine with this!" You whine. "I never said that it was fine!" He countered, walking over to your closet to pull out a white sleeveless top that could be tied in front and cotton peach shorts that had a lace pattern. "Here you go"

"I refuse!"

"What?!"

"I dont wannaaaa"

"Park (y/n) I am not playing this game with you!" Jimin placed the shirt down on your bed and looked at you, holding the shorts in front of you "Seriously, this looks way better" He says. "No! I already did my makeup to match this one!" "Oh for crying out loud, (y/n) just change your lip tint to a lighter pink rather than purple!" He says. Jimin inwardly groans as he rolled his eyes in a exaggerated way. "Fine, if you don't want to wear it then..." You eyed Jimin nervously. He had this mischevous glint in his eyes, the kind he had when you two were gonna wrestle for the last bag of chips in the kitchen.

"Oh no, oh no no no no no, we are not starting this oppa! I just finished my hair and makeup!" You exclaim, trying to make an excuse for the two of you not to strangle each other. Didn't work, you ended up running around in your room, screams, pillows, plushies and what not were thrown in the room. "JUST LISTEN TO YOUR BROTHER YOU LITTLE SHIT"

"NO!!!"

Jimin tackled you to the ground (luckily you decided to wear cycling shorts underneath) and tried holding your wrists down so you could surrender and wear what he wanted to.

"THIS IS ASSAULT! HEELLLPPP!! OPPA'S TRYING TO KILL ME!!" You thrashed around, trying to get Jimin off of you, throwing some kicks and punches at him. You managed to get him off by yanking his hair, but as you were about to make your escape, he grabbed the back of your leg and dragged you back down to the floor.

"Hey Hyung, Maknae--" Your other older brother, Jihyun says, walking in on you and Jimin clawing at each other. He gave you two a judgemental look and proceeded to back out of the room "Y'know what, I'm not even- I'm not even gonna ask"

"ALRIGHT FINE I'LL WEAR YOUR DAMNED SHORTS!"

"SUCCESS!"

Kim Taehyung

"You're going on a what?!" Taehyung exclaims. He had gone out with Jeon Gyu this morning to buy some stuff in the morning market when he walked in on you about to leave the house. When he had asked you where you were going, you said you're going out on a date with one of your classmates.

"And what does dad think about this?" Taehyung says, placing the groceries down on the floor. He crossed his arms as he waited for your answer.

"Okay so, I may or may not have told him that it was a study date. But don't tell him." Taehyung looked at you giving you an intense stare as you looked at your phone. He was about to scold you for lying to your dad and not telling him as well, but you cut him off "Oh hey, Junwook is probably waiting for me. Talk to you later oppa!" And with that, you walked out of the house, dodging the bags in front of you in the process. While you were leaving the house, Jeon Gyu passed by you, but you had ignored his hello. He noticed how you were walking towards the direction of the cafe down the street. He shrugged, bringing in the bags inside the house where his older brother was staring intensely at a cabbage that he was putting away. "Uhh... Hey hyung, where was (y/n) going?" He asks, setting down the bags on the counter.

"She was going on a date" Taehyung replies. He placed his palms on the counter and sighed "Which direction did she go?" "She's probably going to that cafe down the road if its a date... Why?" Jeon Gyu asks as he started putting out the contents of the bag. "Wait here" Taehyung says, then proceeds to go upstairs, leaving Jeon Gyu in the kitchen incredibly confused.

Taehyung came back down in a beige trench coat, slacks, a beret and shades. "Here, wear this" He says, handing over a blue button down with white vertical stripes, black slacks and dress shoes to his brother. "Wait, why?" Jeon Gyu asks, looking at the clothes and shoes that were obviously too big for him.

"We're spying on that date" Taehyung says, lowering his shades to wink at Jeon Gyu "Um... Sure, but why do I need to wear something expensive?" He asks. Taehyung rolls his eyes and playfully slaps Jeon Gyu's shoulder "It's a disfuise. (y/n) knows that we wear comfort clothes when going out."

"Why do I have to partake in this?" Jeon Gyu asks "Because you're my little brother and (y/n)'s older brother. Now hurry and go change" Jeon Gyu rolls his eyes and goes to the bathroom to change.

Which is how your two brothers ended up in the farthest corner of the cafe. It had a good view, your back was facing them so you wouldn't notice the two. Taehyung was calmly eating cheesecake while Jeon Gyu struggled to drink his coffee due to the face mask Taehyung made him wear. Taehyung said he could drink but make it 'discrete' and keep the mask on at all times. Taehyung watched this guy like a hawk. He watched every movement. From the way he tapped his feet on the ground, the pattern of his hands, and the way he stared at you. Taehyung glared daggers at the boy as he reached out to hold your hand. "Hey, (y/n) thanks for going on this date with me" The boy says, and you just smile at him, rubbing circles on the back of his hand "Don't mention it, Junwook." You reply. "Okay so... I've wanted to tell you this for a long time and--"

"AH CHOO"

Junwook sighed the moment he got cut off by an obnoxiously loud sneeze from someone in the cafe. You thought that sneeze sounded familiar, but decided to ignore it due to your crush sitting in front of you. "As I was saying. I've li--"

"AH CHOO!"

Junwook looked up very irritated at whoever kept sneezing. He glared at the man over your shoulder but soon paled the moment Taehyung lowered his glasses and stared back at him. "Hey Junwook, is there something wrong?" You asked, making him stare back at you. He smiled nervously as he looked back at Taehyung, who pressed his index finger up to his lips. "Uh- I... Um... Really like the waffles they have here!" He exclaims, letting go of your hand as he shoved a mouthful of the waffles. You looked at your date shocked, you did not expect that from him. You turned around and saw an empty seat at the corner of the cafe. You shrugged your shoulders and proceeded with your date, obviously disappointed that it was all just a friendly date.

Meanwhile, Taehyung and Jeon Gyu high fived as they went back home, their mission a success.

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook swayed back and forth on his heels as he waited for his little sister to be dismissed from classes. He recently came home to visit his family, and the first thing his parents made him do was fetch you. He sighed, messaging Yugyeom about how long he's been waiting for you. He glanced up and noticed that the Highschool students were now dismissed, so he put his phone back in his pocket and waited until you spotted him.

He smiled the moment he saw you walking out of the school doors, waving a farewell to your friends. When you turned your head, you spotted an all too familiar face in the middle of the parking lot waving at you. "Oppa!" You exclaimed, running at your brother and giving him a hug. "Hey sis" he says, putting his arm over your neck to hold you in place as he placed his knuckle on your head "OW OW OW OW OW, SCREW OFF JUNGKOOK" He let go of you and watched you pull back, rubbing your head where he gave you a noogie. He looked at you with wide eyes, one hand was on his chest and one over his mouth. "Y-You didn't call me oppa!" He gasped, sounding offended.

"Oh hush, oppa. Don't think I don't see you running away from girls on those youtube videos" You say, punching him on the shoulder. He laughs as he slings his arm around your shoulder as you two walk to the exit. "So how're you holding up in Highschool?" He asks "Better than you ever will" You reply, smirking at him as he laughed nervosuly, remembering all those times he skipped and failed classes. "Aish this kid is a pain in the neck" He mutters, making you scoff. "I learnt from the best~"

As you were walking, you noticed that at the side of the parking lot gates where a group of boys were hanging around. You glanced at them, your grip around Jungkook tightening. "Hey sis, your grip's getting a little tight" He wheezes. You hated those guys. They always cat called you. You frowned as you saw one of the guys spot you. Jungkook looked down on you, concern grazing his features.

"Hey doll!"

"Hey gorgeous, you free tonight?!"

You sighed, choosing to ignore them. Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at those guys who threw cat calls and wolf whispers directly at you. He sighed, heat creeping up to his ears as he felt his anger boiling up at every word they said. "Wait- Jungkook what are you doing?!" You whisper as he dragged you over to them, making them laugh and hoot in satisfaction that you were coming their way. Jungkook's grip on you tightened as he walked over to them. "(y/n), who are these boys over here?" He asks. "And what's in it to you buddy?" One of the guys ask, standing up as he placed his hands in his pocket. "Look here pal, I don't appreciate the crap you guys were shouting at my sister" Jungkook says sternly.

The guy scoffs, looking back at his crew with a smirk "What? Can't your sister take a compliment?" He says. Jungkook sighs "Well, a compliment are supposedly sincere words directed at a person. There is a big difference between that and cat calling. Cat calling consists of explicit words, while compliments are kind ones. If you were to compliment my sister, you should've went up to her and say 'hey you're really pretty today' instead of yelling 'hEY GORGEOUS!' And looking like a complete fool while doing it." Your eyes widened at Jungkook's words. Foe a guy that got an eight out of a hundred number test, this guy was spouting pretty smart words.

"Anyways, come here buddy" Jugkook says with a smile, releasing you from his grip and walked towards the guy, wrapping his arms around him. "This world is a pretry good one. But it's kinda getting ruined by pimples like you" Jungkook says, turning so he and the guy are facing his little crew. "You kids clearly never listened in class because you're sitting by the rusty gates, trying to look badass but really you are not" The boy scoffs, pushing away your brother. "Look here you shit, I'm--" Jungkook tutted and used a hand to grab the guy's uniform collar.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he stares into the boy's eyes "My sister is for the record, way out of your league, sorry to burst your non existent ego. But kindly find someone who's low enough to sleep with you and your micro dick, thank you" Jungkook pushed him, making him stumble back into his group "Now, stay away from my sister because I promise you, I'm just not in the mood to pick a fight with immature shitheads who think they're cool" Jungkook turned around, slung his arm back on you and proceeded to walk back home. "You know, you were a little hypocritical when it came to your speech" You say

"I SAVE YOUR ASS AND THIS IS WHAT YOU TELL ME?!"

▪▪▪

Requests are open!

[creativeashproductions]

The Break // Jughead Jones

Summary: After your mother, Mary, is dragged into the rift with Lucifer you take off for a break from hunting. Coming to a small town called Riverdale you adapt to normal life and get some friends and a boyfriend. They have no idea of your real life until trouble comes.

Characters: Jughead Jones x Winchester!Reader, Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews, Veronica Lodge, Lacey (OFC), Chuck Clayton, Sam Winchester (mentioned) and Dean Winchester (mentioned).

Words: 2512

Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or Supernatural in any way, shape or form. I do not own any gifs or images in there either. All I own is Lacey and the reader too.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, monsters, and fluff

Author: Caitsy

A/N: Lots of requests to do that I’m excited about! This was shit at the end though.

Master List

Prompt List

ASK US A QUESTION LIST

You were staring up at the building with interest given you only had a few weeks in each school you arrived at. This was the first one you could be staying at for an indefinite time and you weren’t sure how you would survive.

“Who is that?” Your keen hearing picked up from a short distance from you.

You shoved the book bag filled with supplies that Sam had helped you pick out with a tense silence between you too. As your older brother he wasn’t excited to not have you close by. The thing was that after your mother was dragged into the rift by Lucifer. Sixteen years ago, revealed to your siblings and you by Chuck, Mary was brought to life in order to make another full Winchester child. You were sure it had to do with the Nephilim that Chuck knew would happen.

“I have no clue Kev.”

“She’s so badass.” Kevin mumbled as you stomped your way into the school in your beat up black converse. You wore a dark jean jacket that Dean had gotten you for your sixteenth birthday to replace the genuine leather jacket a fucking vampire ripped.

“Damn girl.” You sighed hearing a cocky tone of voice, “Where’ve you been all my life?”

“None of your business.” You grumbled carrying on before you felt a hand on your upper back.

Twisting away you grabbed his arm to twist behind his back, you tripped him onto the ground to get in the proper place to snap his arm. His crying was the one thing you relished in.

“Ow! You bitch!” The boy cried trying to get you off, “You will pay!”

“Not as expensive as your hospital bill.” You spat dislocating his shoulder, “Don’t touch me you fucking pig.”

You scooped your bag into your hand taking off towards the office leaving the boy on the ground in pain in a circle of students. You felt happy knowing that it would keep people away for a while. Besides you would be kept in shape so you keep your stamina you signed up for the cross country running team.

After a tour by Principal Weatherbee you collapsed onto a group in the student lounge during your spare. Living in the bunker you had corresponded with a school enough that with Sam’s help you had credits for classes you needed here.


“You dislocated Chuck Clayton’s arm and I’m living for it.” A sophisticated voice said as she sat down in the chair near you. One leg over the over with a smirk in place, “Veronica Lodge.”


“He touched me.” You grumbled leaning back into the couch, “Y/N Campbell.”

“Where are you from?” Veronica questioned. You tensed up a little before mumbling a small town in Kansas. She hummed as more student filed into the room including a football player you saw help Chuck up.

“Hey Ronnie.” A blonde girl said bouncing into the room with a large smile.

There was a redhead wearing a varsity jacket with gold and blue on it with a large R on the left side of it. Beside him was a boy that made the red head look like stark opposites. This boy wore a black jacket over a burgundy sweater and grey shirt. The crown beanie stood out the most on his head covering the dark hair.

“Who is this?” The redhead asked.


“This is my new friend Y/N Campbell. Y/N this is Betty, Jughead and Archie.” Veronica said introducing you to everyone. You saw that Jughead opened his mouth before your burner phone in your bag.

“Did you get settled in?” Sam asked when you picked up the phone. He was more of a father figure than a brother like Dean had been to him.

“Hey. Yeah I’m settled in, how’s our stupid brother?” You knew that Dean would be the most cut up over your mother being taken away again and Cas being presumed dead.

“Dean is…well he’s in denial.”

“Hm. I’ll call later. Keep safe.” You mumbled quickly hanging up before fleeing the room to your first class of the day.

What you didn’t know was Jughead caught a glimpse of the multiple burner phones in your bag and the knife. That was enough to send Jughead into bloodhound mode. He issued an excuse to his friends before following you.

“Strange.” Jughead hummed as you disappeared into a classroom that was a senior class. He knew you were in sophomore year like he was. You didn’t seem like the academic type to be ahead of other sixteen year olds.

You however followed the English teacher’s to introduce yourself before reading the chapter for the class and writing a reflection. The teacher seemed easy going than what you were warned of from Sam but with Sam you were ahead of the game.

“You’re new.” A girl said with her head tilted to the side. You met eyes with brownish gold eyes with a wicked smile, “Lacey.”

“It’s obvious given I was introduced at the new student.” You returned picking up where you had been reading. It seemed the girl refused to let you ignore her.

“I heard you joined the cross country team.” Lacey said, “Don’t wear really short shorts. Chuck with eyeball you.”

“I took care of him.” You sighed, “Can you leave me alone?”

“Nah. You seem cool and I like cool people. Not many like being friends with the captain of the wrestling team.”

You froze turning to look her in the eye and it was then you noticed the blue and gold varsity jacket hanging on the back of her chair. It had a large R like Archie’s and the number 19 on the arm with Lacey delicately sewn in the arm.

“You’re the captain of a wrestling team?”



“Well I wasn’t allowed to be on the football team. Jason and Chuck made sure I didn’t get on so I dominated the wrestling team. Literally the reason we won last year’s championship and then I was made captain.”

“Congrats I guess.” You sighed before the bell rang.

“You should eat with me.”

“No thanks.” You returned heading towards the cafeteria not wanting anything to do people at this school. You wanted to get through the year before heading back to your hell of a life.

“I don’t give up.” Lacey called as you headed into the doors. The food looked better than some of the diner food you’ve eaten over the years.

You had nicely sat down at a table outside when the clang of a tray sounded and Veronica sank into the seat. The others trickled in within a few minutes not caring if you wanted to alone or not. You resigned yourself to knowing that Veronica wouldn’t give a shit.

“How’s your day so far?”



“It was better when I was eating alone.”

“Leave the angst to me.” Jughead informed eating one of the fries off his tray with a sarcastic smile in your direction.

“No offences but I don’t want friends.” You firmly stated going to get up before Betty rested a hand on your forearm.

“Please.”

There was something about the innocence she exuded that slowly made you accept that having some friends wouldn’t be so bad. It just meant you would have to hide the weapons in your house that you were staying in with a retired female hunter. You would have to carefully construct a backstory and carefully choose how to talk about your life.

“Fine.”

“How old are you?” Archie asked taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“Sixteen.”

“I am too.” Jughead inserted with a firm distrustful expression on his face.

The others announced their ages just as another redhead came up to your table with a cold and calculated smile. Obviously came from wealth and ruled the school. Probably a cheerleader by how she held herself and her body shape.

“Cheryl Blossom.” The manicured hand grabbed your hand to shake before she wiped her hand on her skirt. You obviously disgusted her.

“What can I help you with.” You questioned slumping down in your seat.

“You should try out for the cheerleading team. You have the perfect body and you have a potentially pretty face.”

“No thanks.” You said picking up your food on your plate, “I have no interest wearing a short skirt and worrying about my hair.”



“You could be someone if you joined.”



“Nah. I’m comfortable being a nobody. Besides I have these people to annoy me. I don’t need a spoilt rich brat to make me want to stab my face out.”



“Wow. Your psycho even more than Betty Cooper and her sister is a tragic story of teen pregnancy.”

“Oh fuck off.” You spat, “All you are is a basket face from a family that cares more for money and reputation than you. Bet mommy’s hit you huh?”

Cheryl stomped off with a huff and a threat to take you down and you didn’t even give a shit.

Three months went by with you hanging out with your friends you had slowly warmed up to, you didn’t even think of hunting anymore. You were hesitantly dating Jughead and keeping it quiet so only your friends knew about the relationship. You hadn’t heard of a hunt outside of the mysterious death of Jason Blossom that was completely human. Well until Greendale had a few murders that had no motive human wise.

That’s why when you were walking to Archie’s house after watching Lacey’s wrestling match you knew something was off in the look of a man staring at you. His eyes flashed back before you knew that shit was hitting the fan. You groaned before dodging the punch of the demon wearing a middle aged meat suit. You caused blood to drip down the demon’s face.


“When I heard of the Winchester girl not being protected by her big brothers I knew I could make my move.” The demon smirked easily dodging your hits and kicks before the man grabbed the angel blade in your hand and stabbed you in your stomach.

You stared down at the blade in shock looking up as he sliced into your skin shallowly before laughing manically.

“Ooh I think we should go into that house and kill your friends as you watch unable to help.” The demon snickered doing as he said by storming into the house.

The group seeing you bleeding held by the unknown man jumped up in absolute horror when he stabbed you in the shoulder this time. He pushed you aside and stumbled when you kicked him in the knee causing him to drop the angel blade.

“Let us have some fun.” The demon clapped his hands with a near giddy expression, “Do they know about you?”



“No you bitch.” You spat painfully getting your feet, “Leave them out of this.”


“Look baby Winchester. Your family has been causing too much trouble and if I can’t kill your brothers I’ll do the next best thing.”

“Winchester?” Jughead asked confused, “Your last name is Campbell.”


The demon started laughing as he looked at you almost disappointed.

“Not even a good alias. You’re a knockoff Winchester.”

“Oh hell no.” You spat rushing him with kick in the stomach. You were thankful the adrenaline was helping you even with the blood loss.

“Little girl you can’t fight shit.” He spat with a glare. He grabbed your arm throwing you onto the ground, “I think I’ll kill you first then your little friends.”

“Over my dead body.” You hissed shoving your elbow into his face before another kick into his midsection. He stumbled with a right hook across his face and roundhouse kick onto the floor.

“That can be arranged.” He said spitting blood on the ground. He tried stepping out before he was stopped, “Devil’s trap.”

You flipped the rug up to reveal a red large devils trap on the hardwood floor. You chuckled tilting your head to the side as your wobbled on your feet.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio! Omnis con…potestas-“

“Stop it!” He screamed as you began to exorcism, “You won’t kill me! You can’t kill me because you are useless human.”

“Your demon. Couldn’t even snag an attractive meat suit.”


“What the hell is going on?” Veronica demanded as the scene unfolded.

“Your human friend is dying. That’s what up.” The demon wickedly smiled.

“I can’t.” You winced as the blood loss became evident. You weakly grabbed the angel blade on the ground before stepping near the demon and shoving the blade into his heart. The orange light lit up under the demon’s skin before the vessel collapsed dead on the spot and you fell down struggling to breathe.

“What the hell?!” Archie exclaimed falling down to pressed his hands on your stab wound on your stomach, “You murdered someone in my house and he lit up!”

“He’s a demon.”

“Bullshit.” Jughead monotonously said.

“Explain to me why he lit up then?” You gasped as they came to terms with the news, “Call my brothers on my phone.”


“You kill demons.”

“The monsters under your beds and in stories.” You mumbled seeing black dots in your vision. You weakly coughed up blood onto your chin with a wince, “Cas. Help me! Cas!”

“Who’s Cas?”



“Castiel please!” You sobbed as you felt yourself falling into the pit of death.

“I am Castiel. An angel of the lord.” the gritty voice of your angel friend said as he knelt beside you, “Demon stabbed you?”


“I don’t want to die Cas.” You whimpered.

“Y/N you cannot tell your brothers I’m alive.” Cas warned you with a stern expression before he pressed two fingers on your forehead, “Y/N I can’t fully heal you. I slowed it down but I can’t heal you.”

“I want my brothers.” You sobbed accepting your fate just before another light blasted into the room. Standing in all his glory was Chuck with a concerned expression and two men behind him, “Chuck?”

“I need you to be alive.” Chuck sighed before healing you completely while Sam and Dean lunged for you.

“What the hell.” Veronica stated as she was able to see again.

“This is my brothers Sam and Dean Winchester. This is Chuck…he’s-“

“An angel.” Betty quipped.


“Not exactly.” Sam inserted slowly before stepping forward.

“Chuck is god.”

“I’m in shock.” Jughead mumbled as Castiel flashed away with the body and the floor was cleaned up, “My girlfriend hunts demons and monsters. My girlfriend is a badass. I just met God.”

“Can you tell us how you got into this?” Betty softly asked as Jughead held your hand.

And you did. From when your mother first died until Jack being born your age and everything in between even when your brother interrupted to add their own bits to the story. They didn’t fully understand but they didn’t see you any different and having Jughead love you more was worth them knowing your past.

Forever Tag List

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Riverdale Taglist

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[filthysmileblogedits]

Footsteps in the snow, mud caked and soaked through like spray paint on a canvas as he stalked his prey. The poor girl, blood covered and injured head to toe from both knife and broken glass alike. Her breath visible in the raging storm.

Terrified hues of emerald turning to view a dark and tormenting mask that dared her on with it’s haunting smile. She’d never truly been scared of Frank before. But something was different today. Something about him was  - OFF.

“Please Frank.. Just. Just let me go.. Hook me. Just get it over with.” She begged him, getting no answer other than a huff that spat into maniacal hyena like laughter. Watching as he cocked his head and pushed her to keep crawling.

He loved this. The rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins harder than any drug he’d tried before. More exhilarating than his first robbery and more entertaining than a knife fight. Her fear. Her pleading. If not for the way it grated upon his ears, he’d think it was music.

“Keep crawling.” He taunted. Stepping forward and raising his sneaker sharply before slamming it down into the small of her back. Earning himself a sharp blood choked scream from the runner he had in his grasp. In normal rounds, he’d have killed her and gotten it over with. But tonight. Tonight he was pissed. Having his own small injuries from getting hit just one too many times with pallets and jabbed in the shoulder with glass by the others.

He sought to take his bottled rage out on them all. Meg, being the last of four to feel the fire of his short burning temper.

Growling unpleasantly, he got sick of the snails pace they took and grabbed her ankle, turning her round’ and dragging her into the lodge as she kicked and shrieked for him to let go. Pulling her across the old rotted boards of the resort as her blood left a trail as brilliant red as fresh paint.

“Shut the fuck up, Don’t you wanna see your fucking friends?” Frank cursed at her, turning round and kicking her before grabbing her by the hair and pulling her up enough to see the entrance of the basement. Ignoring her thick tears as they streamed down her face in worried horror.

“Better watch your step” He teased, pushing her down the basement stairwell and following slowly behind.  Watching her tumble and cry out with every heavy thud. Pushing his favored hunting knife into the pockets of his varsity jacket and stomping down the stairs. Walking past her into the expansive room. Bandaged, bloodstained and tattooed hand reaching out to touch gently at the four split hook.

“What’s wrong Meg, you look a little fucking lost.” He asked her, piercing blue hues looking to her through the pinholes of his mask. Her saddened and confused face giving rise to his bloodlust as he crossed his arms and leaned against the large wooden post. He waited for her to notice. To see and realize just what was wrong here.

“You’re a liar.” She snarled, wiping the pained tears from her heavy eyes and mustering what strength she could to hold her ground against him. From all she saw, there was no one here but them and the Entity’s alter. The pungent smell of death and rot filling her nostrils as she grit her teeth. She was used to this horrid stench, the look of death that surrounded her. But as her visibility cleared and her senses took in more than just the feeling of pain, she noticed something was different.

The basement was more... Red and Wet than normal. Eyes scanning the room as she looked up to the dripping ceiling. Horrid ideas entering her mind like a feverish nightmare she choked on her thoughts and stared Frank down in fear and worry for her friends.

“Where are they. WHAT DID YOU DO!?” Meg shrieked at him. Hands hitting the blood soaked cement of the basement with anger and heartache. Only having her rage towards the Legion leader when he answered her with nothing more than a dark and twisted laugh. Watching as he opened his arms and showed off the mess of his work.

“ Whadd’ya mean ‘where are they’? They’re here Meg! A bit of em here, a bit of em there. Honestly, you’d think a looping bitch like yourself would be more thankful i brought you to see them at all. Or.. well, I guess i should fucking say.. what’s left of them.” Approaching her slowly as she tried to back away, he pulled his blade from his pocket and grabbed her ankle. Pulling her back towards him and close enough to raise and force down his hunting knife deep into her chest as hands desperately pushed his face and chest in some feeble attempt to make him stop. But it only fueled him on further as he gripped the hilt with both hands and carved through the soft flesh of her abdomen. Watching with a thrill as the life drained slowly from her eyes as he left her there.

“God you’re a stupid fuckin’ bitch. Can’t believe you actually thought i was tellin’ the truth about your friends. I only hooked their dumbasses.”

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams

Part 2/3: Heliophilia

Part 1 - AO3 

A/N: This part made me hate life and everything in it. I’ve re-written it more times that I can count. Sorry for making you wait this long, this didn’t want to come easy at all! I hope at least it’s semi-decent and enjoyable. :) Also, this is 40 something pages long so you might wanna grab some snacks or drinks and make sure you have plenty of time for that disgrace of fanfiction. Anyway, hope you enjoy!  A/N (2): Later on the chapter, when the steamy action starts, the song that’s playing is Ready For Love by Bad Company. Listening to it will get you more in the mood. ;) Warning: Rating changed because Serpent Jughead only comes with a lot of sin.

The River Vixens.

Young, beautiful, sanguine, an ornament of fine femininity throughout the entire sports history of the quaint town of Riverdale.

Cheryl Blossom; the Redhead Amazon, the top of the pyramid, the woman in charge, the H.B.I.C. of this squad of model-like beauty and long legs. The leader-born, even though second-born, the rebellious spirit, the cold sweat laced wet dream of every teenage boy that couldn’t make it to her selective list of conquests.

Veronica Lodge; the Midnight Pussycat, the city girl that shook the easy-flowing waters of the town that lay sleeping, the socialite that climbed the school’s social ladder overnight, the cheerleader that got the quarterback in an fairytale adolescent love story that was bound to lead to a June wedding somewhere in Upper East Manhattan.

And then, Betty Cooper; the Ethereal Goddess, the student most-likely to succeed, the trophy daughter, the next-door sweetheart, the old starlet beauty with doe eyes the shade of lush meadows and pouty lips in the prettiest cherry color of Lolita innocence.

The girl that came from a successful line of Coopers. (Hal Cooper, varsity captain of the championship winning football team of 1984, Alice Cooper (nee Smith), vice-captain of the cheerleading squad, Student Body President, Prom Queen, Chic Cooper, head of the school’s newspaper, star football player and top scorer of Riverdale Bulldogs, his jersey with the number 26 still hanging proudly on the school’s gymnasium, Polly Cooper, multiple award winning Mathlete and the first and only cheerleading captain to achieve first place for the River Vixens at the Nationals.)

The girl that had the background and the talent to be Vixen captain but refused because she knew that was her cousin’s childhood dream.

The girl that passed out on last year’s Homecoming, even though she was going to be crowned Queen, to mop over ice-cream with Veronica because Archie was being a dick.

The girl that held Kevin’s hand the first time he came out to his father.

The girl that self-stitched Archie’s practically ruined punching bag, making it better than new.

The girl that wrote an expose about sexual harassment and rape culture flourishing inside the grounds of their high school, a place that was supposed to shape brilliant young minds not deteriorate them.

The girl that co-founded the first high school club of young feminists.

The girl that was volunteering at the Southside.

The girl that stood her ground against a seemingly dangerous but poorly educated Serpent.

The girl that right now was being just a girl, rolling her glorious hips in some tight spandex Nike training shorts in ash grey in coordination with her fellow cheerleaders but better than the rest, sassier, deliciously tantalizing.

Jughead Jones was putty for all the versions of that girl.

Sprawled on the wooden bleachers of the school’s gym the five Serpent friends were watching the mouthwatering sight of the dancing girls in front of them. The young leader was at the center, Ricky and Gush on either side of him with eyes round and barely blinking and mouth lightly agape, Blaine on the bleacher behind him, where Jughead was resting his elbows, having a leg perched up casually and a dumbfounded smirk on his blushing face and Reggie in front of all of them, giddy grin intact and mischief in his shinning coal like eyes, laying comfortably on his side and holding his head up on an elbow, next to his best friend’s outstretched and crossed at the ankles long limbs. No one was talking, no one was even breathing because, truthfully, there were a lot of bare legs and tight active wear clothes on feminine curves to allow enough blood supply in their brains for another body function apart from staring.

Looks like you've been starving

You've got those hungry eyes

You could use some sugar

'Cause your levels ain't right

Any other time Jughead would appreciate the female virility but today sex-on-legs Cooper was to Cheryl’s right, making it a herculean task to look away. It was like watching her in slow motion; stunning face shining with glee, messy ponytail and rebellious locks swaying to some pop song he’d never heard before with every gracious twirl she took, a veil of sweat coaxing her collarbones and some salty droplets leaving a zig-zag trail down her sternum, disappearing into her white sports bra that pushed her breasts up deliciously, the perfect round mounds bouncing to the beat and making him follow the action with hooded eyes and a tiny side smirk of appreciation.

'Cause I'm all that you want, boy

All that you can have, boy

Got me spread like a buffet

Bon a, bon appétit, baby

They were supposed to be rehearsing for some kind of innovational musical the theater kids were due to perform in a month, thus their own choice of athletic wear instead of their usual cheerleading uniform or their yellow and blue practice attire. However, he wasn’t sure how on earth this seemingly food related play was appropriate enough to be performed in front of elated, camera holding dads and proudly cooing moms when clearly the type of tasting the lyrics implied wasn’t dinner time material. As quickly as the thought sprung to his mind though, it vanished completely because Betty Cooper was exquisitely shaking her sexy body in skin-tight shorts and a fitting sports bra and all he could do was ogle her strong legs and watch her firm butt pop and move side to side, Jughead being minutes before actually groaning at the soft porn performance she was offering, with witty eyes concentrated only on him the entire time.  

“Betty, on one!” the redhead captain’s imposing voice sounded over the loud music, startling the raven haired boy but not the girl in question that merely nodded and formed a line along with the others behind Cheryl, before the girls divided in two and Betty was left standing in the middle, bouncy ponytail and all. Jughead’s grin reached his ears, like the one of a five-year-old boy on Christmas morning; she was going to have a solo part and he shifted more comfortably on his seat, intrigued to watch the marvelous show.

So you want some more

Well, I'm open 24

Wanna keep you satisfied

Customer's always right

There was a hip bob in perfect coordination to the beat before she dropped to the maple hardwood floor in a split position at the “open” part with a wink thrown his way and Jughead was gone, practically feeling himself twitch against the zipper of his dark grey jeans and his teeth painfully bite on his lower lip, as she was now rolling on the floor, arching her back and rising up with a subtle but utterly sinful twerk of her butt. The cheerleaders around her were doing some kind of choreography too but he couldn’t even register people let alone motion when there was a hurricane of blonde hair blurring his vision, as she twirled her head wildly, and her stomach muscles were flexing in a titillating way while her hips were rolling, fueling his desire to move along with her in a similar way that required less people and definitely less clothes.

And it's okay

If you take your time

Eat with your hands, fine

I'm on the menu

(Go ahead)

She was joined by the rest now, but even with a million girls around Jughead would always see her, especially when she was challenging him to a food fiesta with not burgers and fries but her as a full course meal. An image of the blonde beauty sprawled on his bed covered with whipped cream and strawberry frosting as a creek of milky chocolate was drawing a path from her slim fingers to her full lips, down her neck, the valley of her breasts, dipping in her navel and disappearing to the place he bet she was sweeter than any baked good invaded his mind and the foxy smirk on his lips was inevitable along with a hard gulp, the boy trying but failing to keep his hormones at bay. He could actually feel his mouth salivating more, drooling at the sight of her being confident and smiling and happy, and Jughead couldn’t wait anymore for tomorrow night to come, for finally being alone with her at the first date he had solemnly planned and he was praying to be of her liking. At least he hoped that neither his sweaty palms nor his - perpetual around her, it was ridiculous really - boner would be evident enough for him to send her away running.

“Alright, Vixens, that’s enough for today. Hit the showers; you stink.” Cheryl’s voice brought him out of his reverie once again, along with Reggie’s loud attempt to coordinate his long limbs and stand up straight before erupting in some wholeheartedly approving clapping that echoed boastfully in the now silent gym. The Vixen captain raised a cold eyebrow at their direction.

“Great job! Totally.Freaking.Great.Job!” Jughead’s childhood best friend unashamedly hollered in his baritone voice with a shit-eating grin and face elated and colored with boyish appreciation, earning a snobbish look from Cheryl and some giggles from the amused girls around on their way out of the gym and to the locker rooms.

Betty followed the same trail, engaged in girly chatter with Veronica and two other cheerleaders while taking a sip from her water bottle, some droplets trickling down her chin, hydrating the skin around the chain of her tiny silver key necklace and dripping in the valley of those luscious breasts that Jughead got acquainted with nearly a week ago, making the mesmerized boy lick his suddenly dry lips, as if to taste the water mixed with salty sweat for himself, another vision added to his midnight reminiscing of her and her glorious anatomy as he laid on cold bedsheets against his overly heated skin. She felt him staring and she turned to send him a lovely look over her shoulder and her tiny bra strap, offering him a blushing smile and then biting her lower lip when he reciprocated it with her favorite boyish smile, and that was enough of a sign for Jughead to take the hint that she longed to spend time with him just as much, that she had missed him just as much. Suddenly, the hours felt too many and tomorrow too far away and the urge to kiss her lips even for a blink of a moment felt compelling, the boy jolting to his feet abruptly, snapping violently the hormonal bubble that his friends were still floating into.

“Someone’s in a hurry to get his cheerleader fix.” Reggie commented with a crooked smile, eyeing his friend that practically jumped over him in his attempt to skip down the bleachers two at a time.

“At least I’m getting mine.” He teased him good-heartedly, looking up at him with a clever smirk while taking some steps backwards and towards the door. “Here, pal” he then pointed at the corner of his mouth wittily “you’re drooling more than Hotdog at the sight of shoelaces.” He threw in his snarky comment and walked out of the gym doors, hearing Reggie behind him laughing loudly as he swore to make him pay for that, his own lips slowly curling upwards in amusement.

He lurked at the corridor for some minutes before double checking both ways and then smoothly, like a night cat, he sneaked into the forbidden territory of the girls’ locker room, being extra quiet and cautious not to get caught but, mostly, trying to be respectful in case some cheerleader was still changing or getting dressed. The sound of running showers and girly chatter could be heard and the room seemed pretty empty so Jughead exclaimed in relief before spotting with a giddy smile the reason of his rule breaking, Betty, bent over a wooden bench, too busy in untying her white sneakers to notice any kind of movement. Tip-toeing to her while unashamedly checking her raised butt with a tiny smirk, his large hands grabbed hold of her firm hips, bringing her flat against his chest and causing her to yelp out of surprise and almost fear.

“Jesus Christ, Jughead!” she hissed as a hand shot to clench the front of her chest, nerves relaxing upon recognizing his distinctive scent of faint nicotine mixed with minty body wash, but heart still thudding against her ribcage because of the same scent and the close proximity of their bodies. “You scared the hell out of me!” she whispered-yelled, alerted eyes darting around in fear of a prying audience, but his hot breath against the nape of her neck was too tempting to ignore and focus on anything else.

“Sorry.” He smirked against her skin, leaving the softest of pecks on her pulse point. “The element of surprise is my specialty.” His lips were tickling the side of her neck and his fingers laced against her bare abdomen, pinkies slightly pushing against the elastic waistband of her training shorts, as he grounded his hard body more against her soft curves.

Betty sighed, eyes fluttering closed and head tilting to the side lazily, offering him more skin. “You almost got me fainting in your arms.”

“Almost?” Jughead exclaimed in faux offence. “Well, let me try again.”

His tone was playful, light, but his actions proved to be the exact opposite as Betty found herself trapped between him and the row of blue lockers, back slamming roughly with metal and the impact causing a sharp gasp out of her bubblegum lips, before she was shushed by a demanding mouth that opened hotly against her own. The kiss was ferocious, her ponytail getting squished against a locker as he was trying to taste every inch and every corner of her mouth, wet tongues twirling in frenzy and his lips bruising hers in his desperate attempt to have her closer, inhale her if possible. His hands were firm on her hips, keeping her flashed against him, and her fingers were clawing the leather on his shoulders, tiny female whimpers and deep male inhales filling the already steamed from the showers and their sexual tension atmosphere around them.

They had missed each other terribly. Yes, Betty’s punishment had been lessened – tree days of suspension instead of five all because Alice Cooper was a force to be reckoned with and extremely vocal about her disgust towards Weatherbee’s favoritism, shooting him down with threatening mentions of an expose regarding the verbal sexual harassment of a female minor – and yes, Chuck was also reprimanded with not being able to play at two of the following football games – Alice Cooper was practically glowing after leaving the principal’s office in a chaos – but still with Betty’s small absence and Jughead’s one-week detention that was unnegotiable, the two love-struck teens hadn’t had the chance to catch each other alone after that sole time of their first kiss or, more accurately, heated make-out. Small glances, tiny smiles and his trademark winks were their only interaction but they were still enough to keep the fire burning between them, maintain their intense connection and fuel the anticipation for their official first date.    

With a pretty nasty swipe of his tongue against hers that made Betty sigh inside the kiss and a hard tug of her lower lip from his sharp teeth, Jughead’s lips started traveling south, nibbling her jaw, licking her neck and exhaling hotly over the trickling sweat that still lingered on her collarbones, their pants and heartbeats in perfect coordination.

Betty blinked rapidly to the hideous ceiling as her voice came shaky and weak with need. “Are you trying to kill me or something?”

“No, Cooper.” He let a breathy chuckle against her collarbone, teeth biting her flesh hard and making her groan lightly, squirming inside his embrace. “I’d say my ulterior motive is charm and enchant you.” He watched proudly as a round redness spread across her irritated skin, before moving to her grey bra strap and giving it a light tug with his teeth, the elastic material snapping back against her skin causing her to momentarily arch her back against him. Jughead smiled, loving how responsive she was at the simplest of his touches, before raising his head, nose brushing against nose and witty blue eyes connecting with her hazy ones. “But I wouldn’t say no to offering you some multiple little deaths.” Betty’s cheeks flashed crimson at his naughty smirk and his innuendo, the girl biting her lip at the rush of adrenaline and arousal that shot through her veins, her chest heaving sensually against his khaki S t-shirt.

The action wasn’t unnoticed by the young Serpent, his eyes traveling to the silky pushed up mounts, before his lips returned on her neck, sucking wetly at its hollow and moving to the central bone of her sternum, leaving open-mouthed kisses and dirty bites, feeling the vibrations of her heavy breaths and enjoying the rise and fall of her soft breasts against his jawline.

“Ugh, stop, I’m all sweaty and gross.” Betty complained self-consciously, her slender fingers threading inside his thick hair and tugging lightly, a tiny groan echoing from his throat.

“Sweaty yes, gross never, sexy always.” He whispered smugly against her lips, the blonde girl smiling sweetly as her heart fluttered at how he made her feel, before leaving a chaste kiss on his now swollen lips. “That was some show you put on out there.” He raised an eyebrow in appreciation, hands sliding from her hips to her waist so for his arms to curl around it.

“I had a feeling you’d like it.” She giggled, tightening her own arms around his neck, massaging his scalp gently.

Jughead hummed at the tenderness of her touch, eyes blinking closed for a second, before opening again, playful and agile this time. “Well, the pop song was insufferable but it had mentions of food and you were in tiny shorts so that was a pretty safe way to my heart.” He joked sarcastically as always, bopping his nose against hers.

“Good to know.” Betty head-butted him playfully, making him snort a tiny chuckle.  “We’re also gonna be dressed as sweets.” That caught his attention, eyebrows rising in intrigue. “Yeah, nothing else apart from pink colored pillow filling wrapped around our hips to resemble cotton candy and two cupcake toppings right above here.” She dragged the word deliciously as she was twirling her pointers cheekily around her breasts, before halting the action so her fingers were pointing at her nipples. With a dorky smile and her lip trapped between her teeth, Betty waited for his reaction as a dumbfounded grin slowly crept on his lips, baby blue eyes blinking slowly in shock and mind trying to hold even an ounce of blood as all of it was rapidly gathering south.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Jughead finally breathed, head tilting to the side in self-pity at how easy it was for her to turn him into a pathetic fool.

“Of course I do!” Betty burst out laughing, him shaking his head at her brilliant antics. “This is a school play, Jug! There’s not a chance on earth that Weatherbee would let us dress, or more correctly, undress like that.” She pointed out, her hands sliding up his shoulders once again to keep him trapped against her.

“You minx.” He pretended to scold her before his voice turned deep and laced with a sex-appeal he only seemed to muster. “You know, there is no wardrobe policy in my bedroom.” He informed her cleverly, hips rolling ever so subtly against her hipbone.

“A little presumptuous, aren’t we, mister?” Her tone turned flirty too, dropping her head back to send him her best good girl look under her eyelashes that had his eyes darkening intensely.  “Who said that I’ll be interested in a tour of your bedroom?” she challenged, a perfect eyebrow urging him to hit her with his best shot.

Jughead let a low chuckle that screamed danger, moving to whisper hotly against her ear. “Oh, you will, trust me. You may got your moves but I got mine too.” The promise was dark and sinfully exciting and Betty felt her knees give away a little at the sound of his husky voice. He smiled – he knew what he was doing to her – and brushed his parted lips against her cheekbone, leaving a sensual kiss against the corner of her mouth, before unwrapping himself from her body. The trembling sigh that left her lips at the loss of contact nearly made him lose his mind.

“Eight o’clock tomorrow, Cooper.” He reminded her with a boyish smile, readjusting his bag against his shoulder. “I was promised a mini dress and a smile.” He winked, reluctantly taking a half step away from her.

Betty smiled breathlessly, supporting herself to the locker behind her and with cheeks still vibrant red. “Never the one to back out on a deal. I’ll see you tomorrow, Juggie.”

“I still can’t believe you are not grounded.” Hints of genuine shock were coloring Poly’s voice, the speakers of Betty’s dusty pink MacBook complaining at the high pitched remark.

“I am grounded. I just have some allowances.” Betty shrugged a shoulder, too preoccupied with applying some light powder over her already flawless face, laptop perched to her right on top of the white wooden vanity.

“Well, I never had allowances when grounded.” Polly raised an eyebrow at her sister, even though the younger Cooper had her eyes glued to the mirror. “Nor Chic, for that matter.”

“Guess we now know who the beloved child in this family is.” Doing a dramatic flip of her head, Betty beamed in fake arrogance before flattering her eyelashes vigorously at her sister in innocent sibling teasing.

“Ugh, take it down a notch, daddy’s princess; I still got nana Kathryn on my team.” Her sister scrunched her nose in a snooty manner, the three Cooper kids always joking around about which family members showed more affection to whom. “And Uncle Timothy is swerving lanes as it seems; he sent me an espresso coffee maker the other day!” Betty gasped in amused shock at her flabbergasted tone and round green eyes while grabbing her mascara, the rare occasion of their dad’s uncle sending someone a gift, let alone this someone not being Chic, coming as a total surprise for the whole Cooper household. “Well, probably second-hand and the most horrendous one on EBay but still, he sent me a gift, Betty. Brother Dearest hasn’t spoken to me all week; he’s pissed and I’m pleased.”  Polly giggled in delight and she joined her loudly, before turning serious again to tend to her eyelashes.

“Well, he’s pissed at me too for showing my boobs to the world.” The youngest murmured with a hint of a sigh around her words.

“I’m not completely okay with the idea too” Polly agreed with the rest of the family “but you had a purpose and I’m female so, I understand the unfairness.” The older girl gave her a supportive smile which she returned in gratitude. That’s why Betty had allowances; her mom was a female too, and although she always wanted her children’s behavior to be proper and according to the rules, she couldn’t help but rebel at the idea of a teenage jock turning her daughter into a sexual object without facing consequences. Deep down, secretly in the depths of her chest, Alice Cooper was proud of her daughter’s fiery personality which reminded her so much of herself in her youngest, more carefree years.  

“And on the bright side, I told you, Betty, your boobs looked great.” Polly tried to lighten the mood with the first thing that had come out of her mouth upon her too seeing the infamous video of Betty flashing her bra to the world, when some lovely classmates of hers had hacked the school’s website to share Betty Cooper’s semi-nude debut.

Betty snorted a laugh at her sister’s comment.

“Veronica and Cheryl thought so too.” She shook her head in amusement, picking a brush to apply some faint blush on her naturally rosy cheeks. “And Kevin. And probably all the jocks and all the creepers around the world that logged into the school’s website before that video was taken down.” She stopped the ministrations on her cheekbones, eyes turning wide, before her whole face dropped, a painful whine escaping her throat upon turning to look at her sister with a disgusted expression. “God, am I internet porn now?”

“It’s a career?” Polly winced adorably at her attempt of light teasing, her sister sending her a glare. “But seriously it’ll die down like everything in high school does, don’t sweat it.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Remember when I was pissed about those outrageous pregnancy rumors in junior year? Barely lasted a week.” She assured her lovingly, the two sisters sharing a smile.

“Now” Polly’s tone screamed excitement and the atmosphere changed. “Tell me all about this date you are getting all dolled up. Where is this Jughead taking you?” she asked in intrigue, cooing lightly at the shy smile that immediately creeped on Betty’s lips.

“I don’t know.” Betty blushed more than the adding shade of petal pink on her cheeks, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading all over her body at the mention of her big upcoming date with the Southside boy. “He said it’s a surprise that he thinks I’ll enjoy very much.” She bit her lip in a silly girly fashion, briefly contemplating a nude lipstick and a shimmery strawberry flavored lip-gloss, before naughtily picking the second. She had the feeling Jughead would appreciate the extra flavor.

“Aw, he’s cute.” The eldest Cooper daughter clasped a hand over her heart with a dreamy smile. “Is he picking you up with the bike?” His beloved means of transportation and Betty’s second source of excitement was trademarked at this point.

“Yeah.” Betty squirmed adorably, sporting a blissful smile that all girls welcomed on their lips upon talking about the guy that decorated their teenage notebooks at the center of colored pen hearts. “Oh, Pol, I feel like a giddy hot mess.” She groaned in despair, green eyes focusing on her sister anxiously. “Why do I feel like this? Everything was very cool and casual with Trev or, you know, Chuck.” She spit his name and grimaced at her choices but that didn’t cloud her mood nor eased up the knot of nerves low in her stomach.

Betty Cooper was royally screwed.

“Well, my guess is that this certain someone is gradually making my lil sis fall in love.” Polly replied with a smile so big that reached her ears, a small sing-song tone of girly delight adorning her statement.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Betty scoffed, rolling incredulously her pretty eyes. “We’ve kissed only a week ago.” She argued but not with her best persuasive face.

“I’m not saying that you are there yet.” Her sister shook her head, explaining softly. “But you like him a lot and he seems to like you just as much, so, embrace the feeling and grab that bad boy from his messy raven locks tonight.” She proposed boldly, perfectly plucked eyebrows wiggling in an awful attempt to appear seductive.

“You are embarrassing me, stop.” Betty frowned at her dork of a sister, earning a loud laugh from the young woman at the other side of the Skype-call, before she gave her blonde locks a shake, checking her hair and make-up in the mirror. She had opted for trading her usual tight ponytail with golden curls cascading freely down her shoulders, wanting to try something different for the occasion, something different for him. Taking a deep breath, she stood up, readjusting her mini dress, and made a small twirl in front of her MacBook screen, showcasing her choice of outfit.

“So, you think he’ll like?” she asked for a second female opinion, lightly chewing at the inside of her cheek, more anxious now than ever.

“Oh, he’s gonna love, trust me.” Polly winked, making Betty let a big sigh and then laugh lightly in relief. “Nice to know that my dress didn’t get lost on moving day.” The older Cooper girl remarked in a scolding tone, an eyebrow raised at how awfully bad Betty was at being sly.

The other girl huffed, curling her arms over her bust and narrowing her eyes. “And it’s nice for me to know that my sweater didn’t shrink in the washing machine as somebody claimed it did.” Polly gasped in fake offence, making paws with the sleeves of her, well Betty’s, cashmere sweater uneasily before curling her arms too in a defensive manner. Both sisters burst out laughing at their childish attitude until the chime of Betty’s iPhone interrupted the easy-going fun of the two, the girl rushing to retrieve it from where it was thrown next to her bag on her floral bedspread.

Down and waiting. I’m the one dressed in black.

Betty smiled at his text, biting her lip so for her face not to break under the wave of nervous enthusiasm his silly words had spread all over her body. “He’s here. Gotta go, Pols.” Her eyes were shining in elation when she addressed her again, shoving her phone into her bag before lacing it over her shoulder in a cross-body way.

“I’ll be up late studying, skype me when you’re back! I want all the juicy details!” Polly matched her enthusiasm with a wide grin. “Oh, and remember protection is always always unnegotiable.” She fixed a serious expression on her beautiful face, the Dr. Cooper expression Betty and Chic always teased her about, urging her sister to begin a healthy and respectful sex life.

Betty eye’s widened for a minute, urgent fingers moving rapidly to lower the volume on her laptop and cheeks turning crimson, before continuing in a hushed tone, hoping that her parents were still working at the study downstairs. “Polly, I’m on birth control since I was sixteen and I’m sure nothing to that extend will happen.” Well, there was going to be heavy make-outs involved for sure and Betty was willing to get a sample of more of his touches if he was up to it but apart from that, well, they had to wait and see how it would go.

“Oh, please, like I don’t know how your ovaries explode every time he just happens to be in the same room as you.” Polly snorted, throwing her silk curls over her shoulder in a ‘whatever’ manner. “And if he is sexually active, condoms are a must. Do you know how high the transmission rate of STDs—” her med student spirit was creeping up again but Betty was quick to cut her off this time.

“Geez, Pol, now it’s not the time for one of your crazy Dr. House rants.” She exclaimed in exasperation, palms slapping on top of her vanity as she almost stuck her nose against the camera of her laptop, passing her frustration to her sister from up close. “I’ll call you later. Bye!” she barely spared her a wave and ended the call, huffing loudly before taking a deep breath to ease up her nerves.

Chin up, Betty Cooper. You got this.

The confirmation that she indeed got this came a few minutes later when she was walking to the next block of her house – because a beasty black Harley stopping right in front of the Cooper residence would attract a lot of unwanted attention – her steps becoming more and more eager once a vision of black invaded the pristine white suburban aura of her neighborhood. Jughead was leaning back on the leather seat of his bike, long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles on the pavement and fingers drumming aimlessly against the polished black cover of the fuel tank while he was lazily enjoying a smoke with his free hand, his attention turned up to the changing blue and lilac undertones of the skyline.

Damn, he looks good, Betty thought as she took him in with delighted eyes, creating a bee-line over his appearance, and smiling to herself at what seemed like a more spruce version of his everyday style. He had combat boots on, not his typical dark brownish, but some seemingly more new and ceremoniously gleamed ones, a nice pair of black jeans, not skinny but formfitting enough to show off his slim legs, rolled up at the ankles, a blue denim shirt with a white t-shirt peeking from underneath the two top undone buttons and his trademark leather jacket stretching deliciously over his board shoulders. Not that any other day Betty didn’t feel weak in the knees at the sight of his gorgeous self in any type of clothing but still, she appreciated the effort he had put to appear more attractive in her eyes, even if that was humanly impossible.

Betty put an extra skip in her step, her footsteps echoing but still not loud enough at this distance for him to be alerted. Placing the alight cigarette between his teeth, he untangled his limbs and bended his knees to be on eye level with the bike’s side mirror, the girl watching him as he went to check the condition of his untamed raven locks, ruffling them a little before combing through some waves that fell freely on his forehead to smooth them in an attempt for his hair to coordinate with his more cared for appearance. It seemed that he had spent some time on his hair too, trying to style somehow his unruly mane but with no success back at the trailer and with no success now too, since the stubborn strands bounced back, poking his ocean blue eyes as usual. Jughead huffed audibly in anxiety laced despair, a huge cloud of  smoke swaying seductively in front of his handsome face and Betty bit her lip as she felt herself get flustered by the old-school bad boy vide he obviously had prescribed in his DNA.

“Excuse me, Mr. Danny Zuko; did you happen to see my date?” she caught his attention with her clever remark, Jughead’s eyes snapping from the mirror in front of him to the source of the teasing voice, the impact of seeing her all dressed up for him mimicking the one of a deadly bullet piercing right through his chest. His breath got stuck in his throat and he felt as though everything had frozen around them for a torturous minute, upon seeing her walking towards him in a nice yellow mustard slip dress, spaghetti stipes barely visible against her creamy collarbones, fabric tight against her luscious curves and reaching a tantalizing length at the middle of her toned thighs, and long legs bare and offered on a plate for him to hungrily devour with his eyes, appearing even more shapely than they already were with the low-heeled brown sandals she had opted to wear, a delicate thin stripe closing around her equally delicate ankles. Her golden hair was down in loose waves, soft, silk and lightly kissed by the wind, framing her stunning face in a way that caused his stomach to drop in a foreign manor, tingles of electricity shooting in all of his nerve-endings at the sight of the most beautiful woman on this earth walking over to join him, a mere mortal caught in an amorous adventure with Venus and Athena reborn as one.

“Tall, broody, flannel draped around his hips, ring any bell? Name’s Jughead Jones.” She toyed with him impishly as he rose again in his full height, a pleased smirk trembling on his lips as he pinched the stud of his cigarette with his thump and pointer, taking a last, long drag, before yanking it off his lips, blue eyes narrowing at the smoke that invaded his nostrils.

“Sounds like a weirdo.” Jughead went on with her little theatricals, apathetic and snarky as always, flicking the now useless stud at the nearby bin. “Run now when you still can.” He advised her in all certainty, eyebrows raised for good measure.

“Nah” Betty dragged the word with a foxy little smirk “he has a bike so I’m pretty sold.” One of her fingers brushed over the shining silver details on the side of his motorcycle before his own fingers laced around it, pulling her gently flat on his chest, her legs ending on either side of one of his, as he curled his arms at the small of her waist, not an inch of personal space left between them. “Hey.” She giggled, slender fingers forming a loose grip at the opening of his denim shirt, as she relished in the perfect feeling of contentment and warmth the faint nicotine along with his minty body wash and pure Jughead scent were creating.

He smiled, boyish and happily, baby blue eyes caressing her face and the blush on her cheeks, making it deeper under the intensity of his gaze. “Wow, Cooper…” he then looked between them, spending a minute too long tracing her left leg resting casually against his. “If looks could kill, I’d definitely be your victim right now.  You look gorgeous.” The compliment was said in awe but the rasp in his voice indicated desire and raw male appreciation. Betty felt as if she was already floating in cloud nine.  

“Thank you.” She replied sweetly, a pretty smile highlighting more her gorgeous futures, Jughead dropping a tender kiss laced with a playful groan on her cheek because truly he couldn’t resist her and her soft skin and her jasmine perfume and the sunshine that seemed to pour right out of her pores. “You don’t look bad yourself.” It was time for her eyes to travel down between them, smoothing her palms against the fabric of his shirt and biting her lip at how good it fitted him in all the right places. “But you lied; I thought you were the one dressed in black.” She looked up at him cheekily, eyebrow rising in fake reprimand.

He chuckled incredulously. “Technically I am. I just added a little splash of color.” He informed her in his most convincing fashion blogger voice, straightening his posture more as she swayed merrily inside his arms, giggling.

“Well, I like it.” She confirmed with a playful nod before adding in a soft tone, lovely smile intact and green orbs gentle and shining against his. “It brings out your eyes.”

A dopey grin curled his lips and some color found its way to his nice cheekbones, him ducking his head in modesty to hide it, and Betty felt her heart fluttering in her chest at the sight. Smoothly, like a cherish cat, she snuggled more against him and left a gentle kiss against his jawline, the ends of her grin colliding with his as she felt the vibrations of a faint short chuckle at her sly action, Jughead turning his head lightly and finding her lips with ease, groaning at the taste of strawberry that invaded his senses and making her smile inside the kiss in triumph for her choice of lip gloss, before saucily tugging on his down lip with her teeth. Their short make out was lazy and wet, with deep moaning inhales of much needed oxygen and desperate clinging to each other’s arms, before pulling back for air.

“So ready?” Jughead asked, a tad breathless, reluctantly uncurling his arms from her tiny form to swing his leg on the other side of the bike, ready to start the engine.

“Duh!” Betty exclaimed in enthusiasm, like a kid at the gates of Disney world. “I can’t wait to get on this thing.” Her green eyes were round in joy and Jughead couldn’t help but laugh good-heartedly at her unique self, before handing her something from behind his back.

“Here, take this.” She frowned down at her now filled hands, a white and pink, glitter adorned helmet staring back at her, an epic contrast with the black, hi-tech one of his that was lying on the console between his opened legs.

“I didn’t know biker guys had helmets with fairy princesses on them.” She grimaced in amusement, shimmery lips pushed together to hold back the waves of laughter that were threatening to escape in full force.

“Shut up.” He let something between a groan and a huff, eyes rolling in fake annoyance. “It’s Jellybean’s and, yes, of course, she hates it too.” He let her know in sarcasm, scoffing at his sister’s, irrational in his eyes, loathing for the girly item. “It’s the very first one I bought for her when she was little but apparently now all this pink feast is tarnishing her reputation or whatever.” He waved a hand in a bored manner, literally hearing JB’s voice complaining each time she had to ride with him in that helmet. “I’m saving money to buy her a new one but, in the meantime, she and you, hoity-toity ladies, need to follow the rules of the driver.” He pointed a warning finger at her, like a parent scolding their rebellious child, sporting his best alpha male expression.

Despite finding him extremely sweet, Betty curled a palm around his finger, playfully pushing it away and altogether ignoring the command. “I thought hot bikers cared more about style and impeccable sex-appeal and a helmet definitely defeats the purpose.” She challenged him in a clever tone, arms curling over her chest stubbornly.

“What?” he exclaimed in fake offence. “Safety is sexy.” He threw back in his smartass tone that made her scoff a tiny laugh. “Besides, trust me, nothing can shadow the power of those legs.” He winked devilishly after a brief checking out of the said legs and a lick of his lips, making her smile to the ground as her cheeks flashed crimson, the engine coming violently to life snapping her back to its rider. “Hop on, Cooper.” He yelled over the noise with an impish grin, putting on his own helmet and accelerating the engine in the sexiest way Betty had ever witnessed.

With a deep breath, she shoved his sister’s helmet over her blonde tresses, before using his board shoulders to climb behind him, each of her long legs resting on his sides and arms wrapping loosely around black leather and flexing abs.

“I look ridiculous! You look like a motorcycle god right out of GQ or something and I’m like an eighty year old grandma, riding on my grandson’s bike with a stupid borrowed helmet.” She shouted more than necessary, voice getting muffled behind the clear glass, feeling the vibrations of his laugh against her front, before Jughead turned lightly to give her an amused side glance.

“To be fair, you do make a hot grandma.” He replied boyishly, knocking lightly her helmet with his in affection, making her roll her eyes but eventually laugh at his awfully charming self.

“So where are you taking me?” she asked impatient now.

“Heaven, Hell, who knows?” he shrugged in fake innocence. “You’ll tell me by the end of the night.” With a last smirk, he pushed down the black non-transparent glass of his helmet and kicked the side stand with the heel of his combat boot, before they were speeding down the road and through the dusking sun.

The feeling was euphoric; travelling on two wheels rather than four, piercing through the wind, almost flying, almost floating in the depths of the horizon. Betty never felt this light or carefree or exhilarated before in her life, like she can do anything, like she is invisible, like she is seventeen and ready to take on the entire world. He was the one to show her another way of living, as he maneuvered steadily and expertly between cars and traffic lights, picked up speed when necessary and made the fine piece of vehicle roar obediently under them, or let her feel the heat of the asphalt grazing her bare knees at every turn they took, the chill-rising leaning over from side to side appearing controlled and sure in his strong arms, him treating the rules of gravity like a true bad boy was supposed to; by defying them.

But the highlight of the night was one and only; the intimacy. Betty could feel the hard planes of muscle against her forearms, the flexing shoulder blades against her cheek, his strong arms taming the beasty vehicle and Jughead was relishing to the wonderful sensation of her tiny frame practically glued on his body, her soft curves pressed against his back, the ends of her blonde tresses teasing his neck as they fought viciously against the wind, her miles long legs keeping him trapped against her body heat, the new length of her dress barely leaving anything to the imagination as it was getting wrinkled against the hem of his Serpent jacket.

The drive wasn’t long and soon enough Betty knew that they were heading at the outskirts of town but on the south side of it, somewhere she’s never been before. The buzzing of people could be heard gradually and after a couple of minutes a wide opening appeared, right at the edge of Sweetwater River, filled with twinkle lights, neon signs and, much to Betty’s delight, cars; beautiful, polished antique cars.

“What is this?” the excited girl practically jumped off the bike, once Jughead has safely parked, wobbly legs stumbling adorably as she yanked her princess helmet and shrieked loudly, her green eyes shining while taking in the sight of people strolling between multiple rows of fine vehicles.

Jughead shook his head in amusement, mentally exhaling in relief at her joyful reaction, before hopping off the bike himself and curling an arm around her shoulders. “It’s the annual car exhibition here at the Southside.” He started explaining to the flabbergasted girl to his side who gasped, clenching the hem of his leather jacket still watching the sight in front of her in awe.

“The Serpents are avid four-wheel collectors so every year at this day they leave their bikes at home and showcase their retro taste in cars. It’s non-profitable and there’s not an auction or anything but people do vote for the model of the year. It’s a fun gathering; you can talk with the owners, learn more about cars and mechanics and generally ogle nice wheels.” He shrugged casually, a small smile adorning his face too, loving their little tradition and the look of pure elation on Betty’s profile. The arm that was draped over her collarbone squeezed her affectionately to his side, before he spoke next to her temple. “I thought it would be something you’d like.”

“Of course it is!” Betty exclaimed, turning her head up to look at him, chin resting on the base of his neck and dashing smile curling her bubblegum lips. “Juggie, this is incredible! I don’t know how to thank you enough.” She gushed in total happiness, eyes boring into the ocean blue ones of the guy that made her heart beat faster than ever before, of the guy that now was feeling his own heart throb for the first time at the look she was giving him.

“Well, a kiss would be great.” his thinking expression had her laughing carefree at his theatrics, Betty raising on her tip-toes and cupping his cheek as she kissed him, his free hand landing on her waist and fisting the material of her dress as their lips kept moving in a heated slow-dance.

Jughead pulled back with a wet smooch, lips slightly red and eyes closed, a tad lightheaded by the spell she was casting upon him with every kiss and every touch. “You really wanna go to this car festival instead of making out with me right now, huh?” he breathed in his usual sardonic manner.

“Yes! Badly!” Betty squirmed giddily against him, hiding her face at the crook of his neck and giggling as he shook his head in fake disappointment. She left a peck against his soft skin before focusing up on him and taking his hand, walking backwards to the exhibition. “I promise I’ll kiss you more after.” She gave him her best puppy dog expression and of course he caved, letting a tsk sound as scolding to himself at how whipped he already was but couldn’t help the happy smirk that appeared on his lips as he let her drag him towards the crowd of people.

They spent the next hour or so strolling around hand in hand or with his arm curled loosely around her shoulders, while her arm was resting casually on his waist with fingers cheekily playing with his belt loops or getting buried inside the back pocket of his jeans and making him smile incredulously at the good girl glance she had spared him unashamedly. Jughead was introducing her to the Serpents he knew and being a great tour guide but mostly listening to her bombarding him with trivia about each car they would come across or watching her, proudly if he dared to confess, interacting with car owners of his kind and mesmerizing them, just like she had done with him. Truth be told, Jughead didn’t want anything more from this date; the glow on her face and the utter excitement in her sparkling eyes were everything he had ever hoped for, making him more and more smitten with the magic that was Betty Cooper.  

“So tell me again, how you, pastel colors and all, ended up with grease stained hands and a love for anything automobile?” they were reaching the end of the exhibition by now, hand in hand as always and with Betty’s free hand curled around his elbow, an easy-going chit-chat interrupting the crowd noise from around them.

“My dad is an ultimate gearhead so I guess I got the gene.” Betty shrugged a shoulder, eyeing with interest an old Ford Mustang. “He used to work at a mechanic shop when he was in high school but even after he and my mom got married and started the newspaper he kept going there as a hobby, to pass time or blow off some steam when my mom was driving him to the wall.” She laughed lightly, Jughead smiling fondly too even though her attention wasn’t on him. “For some reason I always wanted to tag along so eventually it became our Saturday morning father-daughter ritual.” She shot him a pretty smile, upon turning to look at him, caressing affectionately the inside of his elbow where her fingers were resting.

“That’s nice.” He nodded, tightening the hold of their hands as a reflex. “You must be really close then.” Jughead assumed, reciprocating her smile with a nice one of his own.

“Yeah, we’re buddies in every sense of the word.” The blonde girl laughed lightly, loving the close relationship she still had with her beloved daddy. “Our favorite is bringing vintage cars back to life.”

“That sounds pretty cool. Yet, you drive a Mini-Cooper, Cooper.” His eyebrows rose in emphasis, teasing her for the consequence of her choice of transportation and her last name being the same.

“Not you too!” Betty groaned, eyes rolling in exasperation and making him chuckle. “I’ve had enough of Kevin’s and Cheryl’s mockery since I got my license.” She huffed annoyed but not really holding it against them. “And this is just my mom’s insane obsession about new cars equaling better safety, which is ridiculous, but no one in our household can deny her anything.” She was wildly gesticulating now, a habit that Jughead found rather adorable, although that word was not very flattering for his vocabulary. “If it was up to me I’d choose a ’64 Pontiac or, I don’t know, a Volkswagen Camper van.” She murmured matter-of-factly, him looking down at her in shocked amusement.

“Seriously?” Jughead scoffed in disbelief.

“What?” she exclaimed like she was offended. “They are cute!” she snuggled to his side in a girly manner, voice oozing sugary sweetness, and the boy next to her couldn’t help but let a silly grin at her adorableness. A kiss was delivered to the top of her head as a comfortable silence spread between them.

“Doesn’t your parents worry that you drive a motorbike?” Betty casually questioned after some minutes.

“Well, I’m from the South and most dads there are bikers. What makes you think that mine isn’t?” He offered a pretty good point which emphasized with a rise of his eyebrows. “As for my mother” his body language changed all of a sudden and the word held a foreign bitterness that Betty had only heard him use before when addressing Chuck Clayton “she’s not in the picture in order to have an opinion.” He stiffened besides her, looking straight in front with an expression that she could hardly read, a dark ominous cloud shadowing his handsome features.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Betty caught herself muttering with a frown and suddenly a heavy heart.

“Don’t be.” Jughead sighed as if to chase his demons away, momentarily closing his eyes before turning to her and offering her a small smile in assurance. “She never loved this side of the town and apparently having two kids wasn’t reason enough for her to try and adjust. She ran away when I was nine; haven’t seen her since.” He laconically let her know.

It was Betty’s turn to squeeze his hand that was intertwined with hers, the revelation and his sullen exterior breaking her heart. “That must have been tough.”

“It was, especially for my dad.” Another sigh and his focus was on his boots, kicking tiny pebbles as Betty snuggled closer to his side, a tiny gesture of support and understanding. “Overnight, he was left all by himself and two kids; my sister was barely three at the time.” He remembered with frown lines getting deeper on his forehead, Betty wondering internally how on earth a mother could abandon her children like that. “And you know how people either step up or get drowned in the face of a challenge? Well, he did the latter. He started drinking, getting involved in some very tricky situations, distancing himself from us.” Jughead shook his head for the bad memories to scatter away and then continuing in a chirpier tone, his mood gradually brightening again. “But he came through and I’m proud of him. He cleaned his act and I can say now that he is someone I am not ashamed to call a father.” The two teens shared a smile of contentment, him at his fighter of a father and her at the way his blue eyes seemed to shine so lovely every time he smiled happily. “Maybe he is a tad unconventional and at times it seems like we are more college dorm roommates than adult and child” he chuckled and Betty lightly giggled at the image “but he is pretty incredible. And I have a feeling that he is going to love you.” He told her shyly, his lips never shredding that smile she loved and she felt her heart flattering at the statement and the amazing guy he was proving to be.

Teasingly, she bumped her shoulder with his bicep, throwing him a glance that screamed confidence. “I charmed one Jones man; I think I can handle one more.”

“Definitely.” He breathed with that intensity that always seemed to use when addressing her, leaning down to capture her lips in a slow kiss, his hand covering the side of her neck in affection. “Now” he spoke against her lips, eyes darting in a clever manner at something behind her “I can spot a sleek black Pontiac right there waiting for you.” The speed that Betty turned around almost made him faint since a hurricane of blonde waves thwacked his face, the scent of her shea butter shampoo attacking his senses and turning his mind into musk. “Why don’t you hop in and I’ll take care of the food?” he suggested with a light chuckle at her reaction.

“Can I?” Betty’s eyes had never been rounder in surprise and bliss.

“Yes, you can.” He confirmed still laughing at how adorable she was. “The guy that owns it is a friend so, even though getting in the cars isn’t exactly allowed, he can turn a blind eye for us.”  Jughead winked, outstretching his arms to catch her as she squealed and practically bounced to hug him.

“You’re the best, Juggie!” Her excited voice came muffled against the leather of his shoulder, slender arms closing around him in a thigh, affectionate grip before pulling back with smiley eyes and aching cheekbones. “But I’ll go half on the food, here, let me—” she made a move to reach her small bag but he stopped her, closing lazily his arms around her waist again.

“Cooper, you are on a date with me. And, damn straight, I’m going to spoil you.” The tip of his nose brushed against hers, a tender habit that he seemed to grow around her and Betty secretly loved, the girl biting her lower lip at the kaleidoscope of butterflies he only knew how to set free inside her stomach. “Are we cool with hotdogs? Anything to drink?” he wanted to make sure.

“Do they have milkshakes?” Betty went with her all-time-favorite go to drink.

“Only the best.” He bounced his head back smugly. “What’s your flavor, Cooper?” for some reason the question sounded so sinful coming for his lips, undertones of sexual innuendos and another type of flavor coloring his seemingly innocent words and she couldn’t hold back, as she let her mouth dance over his in a flirtatious whisper.

“What do my lips taste like?” She challenged and a smirk trembled on the said lips at his tiny groan, the raven-haired boy eyeing her shimmery pink flesh and moving to close the almost nonexistent distance between them, not because he didn’t remember – oh no, at this point that exclusive Betty Cooper taste was imprinted on his mind – but because her mouth was sinfully irresistible and the greatest addiction he ever experienced in his life.

Her pointer on his lips prevented him for doing so, the little minx toying with him like she only knew how.

“Mmm” Jughead moaned again, licking his own lips while eyeing hers in a trance of desire “strawberry.” He sighed around the answer, seeing her grin in triumph. “You’re such a little menace.” His teeth grazed the pad of her finger in warning, promising to get her back and get her good. Betty just rubbed herself sensually against him, green eyes sparing him a bring-it-on look that had his pupils dilating in lust in seconds, before pulling away. “Go, I got this.” He urged her to the direction of the car with a small push at the small of her waist and a lopsided smirk that she reciprocated with a dashing smile over her shoulder, as he walked to one of the food vendors to take care of their order.    

He came back minutes later, hands proudly presenting her with a red plastic tray full of hotdogs and two large orders of fries, a strawberry milkshake with extra sprinkles and whipped cream for her and a coke for him, Betty laughing in shock at the amount of food he insisted was mediocrely sufficient for the both of them.

“Okay, this is a little weird.” Jughead scrunched his nose upon eyeing warily the bread and sausage goodness in his hand. “I have a dog and his name is Hot Dog so me eating this violates so many owner-pet friendship rules.” Betty almost chocked around a mouthful, a series of laughter erupting from her chest as she tried to chew around her fist bite. The sight was truly unladylike and Jughead was hooked.

“You named your dog Hot Dog?” she shrieked incredulously once her giggles subdued, Jughead sending her a side glance.

“Hey, I was five and obsessed with junk food!” he protested. “Burger just didn’t have a nice ring to it.” He rested back on the leather interior of the car with a shrug, officially taking a rather large first bite of the forbidden fast food.

“Can I meet him sometime?” Betty murmured sweetly, brushing her palm in a silly manner against the corner of his lips where some breadcrumbs were left behind, offering him an equally silly grimace. Jughead’s eyes widened for a minute and some faint color appeared on his high cheekbones, sending her an apologetic smile. She didn’t care; she all but found him extremely cute and that was another plus in the pleasant surprise that was Jughead Jones.

“If you want.” He went on with their small chat, nodding happily at the thought of her wanting to do so. “Though, fair warning, he is sickening friendly and you’ll definitely fall in love with him.” His tone was alluring, a small smirk playing on his lips at the teasing warning that applied not only to Hot Dog but its owner too.

“Well” the blonde girl shrugged in faux apathy “it helps that I have a soft spot for his owner.” She threw him her best sweetheart-material smile and Jughead actually felt his chest puffing with a strange longing, a feeling of numbing heat and warmth spreading all over his ribcage and shaking him to the bone. His baby blues stayed trained on her and intensity made them crease at the edges, him being unable to look away.

“What?” Betty spat in confusion upon catching him staring, her hand immediately shooting up to her mouth in panic. “Do I have something on my face too? I swear to God, sometimes, I’m such a messy eater I end up—” a fierce kiss in full force had the words dying on her lips, almost making her drop her unfinished hotdog, as he took her breath away one more time with the lewd tenderness of his actions.

“You’re good.” Jughead let a breathy chuckle, forehead resting against forehead as she tried to slow down her heart. “It’s just…” he toyed with a blonde lock before pushing it behind her ear delicately, connecting their eyes. “Your hair looks great like that and it’s quiet distracting, okay?” he chuckled again in disbelief at how sappy he was turning overnight, only for Betty to peck his grinning lips lovingly before he reluctantly pulled back from her warmth. “Plus, a girl with an appetite is a huge aphrodisiac.” He sent her a wink, biting playfully at what seemed like his third hotdog for the night.

Betty felt the heat rise in her body, the goosebumps appearing on her skin just from his sexy choice of words and that damn distracting signature gesture of his. Without thinking twice she leaned over, melting against his side as he draped his arm around her shoulders in reflex. “In that case then” her voice dropped a suggestive octave, slender fingers coming to play with the buttons of his denim shirt “and since, due to recent history, having an audience is not really my scene, I’m down for expanding my horizons and seeing more of the Southside.” She proposed in a seemingly standoffish manner, arching her chest against his in a delicious way. “Like, its make out spots?” the grin that slowly found its way on her full lips was borderline illegal, inviting him in nighttime shenanigans that he was oh so willing to engage in with her.

Faking scandal, his eyes widened and a single eyebrow arched in boyish mischief. “Are you trying to get into my pants, Cooper?”

Betty slid more up his chest, Jughead casting a brief glance down at the modest cleavage her dress allowed. “Well, technically, I’m trying to get you out of them.” She replied with a playful grimace.

A dark chuckle echoed faintly between them, his eyes turning dark blue and boring lustfully against hers. “Watch what you are wishing for.” His wicked toned sent a pool of desire low in her stomach, Betty biting her lip to keep herself from moaning. “Come on; I know just the right place.” He left a final chaste but wet kiss against her bubblegum lips before getting out of the car, her mimicking his actions. He waited for her to round the fine vehicle, before his arm was once again curled around her shoulders, Betty finishing her remaining milkshake on their walk back to his bike, the cold sensation of the melted ice cream doing nothing to ease the heat of anticipation and giddy nerves he had arisen inside her with just one look.

The drive was short, through neighborhoods that Betty didn’t recognize but held a haunting mystique, an intriguing aura of an old retro movie. Everything looked more natural at the Southside, more raw and untouched and that was something that mesmerized the girl on the back of the Serpent’s bike, desperately wishing she could paint or photograph as her bewildered eyes were taking the scenery in with a hungry lust for life. And when the pine trees at each side of the high road they were speeding down narrowed, creating a thick barrier of nature, Betty was awarded with a view so gorgeous, she was sure it only belonged to a fairyland far far away.

A small clearing right by the edge of Sweetwater River, the whole North reflecting with faint shadows against the peaceful waters, yellow flickers and moonlight painting a silver trail that connected earth and night sky. She practically had the whole Riverdale at her feet.

“Wow…” she was held spellbound, eyes not even blinking as she stood frozen on her spot while Jughead was securing his Harley. “It’s so beautiful. It feels like the city lights are floating on the river.” She mused in awe, subconsciously taking some steps back to lean at the sponge seat. Once she registered the boy next to her chuckling, she turned to him, a playful smile trembling on her full lips.  “Does this view work on all the girls you bring up here?” Betty teased him wittily.

Jughead chuckled again, this time timidly and with his focus turned on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck before addressing her again with shiny blue eyes, a hint of hope and nervous anticipation intensifying their lovely color. “You tell me. Is it working?”

Betty frowned adorably, despite how lightheaded she felt by the look he was giving her. “Wait… Am I like the first one you come here with? What about all the others, Mr. Biker God?” she snorted a small laugh in disbelief.

“They were just…” he struggled, watching his fingers fidgeting with the keys of his motorcycle “others.” He settled then with a defeated sigh. “It never felt right enough. But you, Betty Cooper” his attention was back at her once again, tentatively moving closer and closer to her with that intensity of his stare, making her insides twist and turn in a ridiculous dance of nerves and hormones and feelings “you are something else; special.” He found his place right in front of her, a long leg finding its way between her slightly bended ones, face inches away from hers, hot breathes mingling, fireworks erupting in the depths of both their souls. Betty felt the need to gasp at the earth-shaking connection but not a single sound came out of her parted mouth. In fact, that wasn’t necessary; the magnetic pull of their bodies said it all, the sense of gravitation towards each other, the feeling of electricity running through their veins without them even touching.

“You—” Jughead choked in a breath, the words getting stuck in his throat, as he examined her awestruck and confused, her pretty face glowing under the moonlight and causing his heart to beat in a way he had never felt before and that was terrifying and disturbing and exquisitely exhilarated.

Betty’s fingertips found his mouth, silencing him. She didn’t need any of his words or declarations; it was in his eyes. “Kiss me.” She begged him in a hushed whisper, needy and ready to get lost into the world of recklessness she was careful not to indulge in all those seventeen years of her life.

Their lips crashed, mouths falling open in lewd despair, her whine embracing the heat of his soft moan at the contact. His tongue gained easy access in the tantalizing abyss of her mouth, exploring every inch of hidden flesh and forcing her own muscle to sway with his in an erotic dance that had her mind spinning in coordination with the sinful twirls of his experienced tongue. Her hands found their favorite place inside his thick ebony hair, pulling and fisting just how he liked, making him pant heavily against her opened mouth and kiss her back with more vigor, more heat, more desire to have her impossibly close. With a naughty tug of her down lip with his sharp teeth that had her half-gasping while he soothed the irritated skin with a tender suck and a swipe of his tongue, tasting strawberries and going insane, Jughead’s hands grasped her hips and slid her back on top of his bike, nesting between her legs and colliding his hard chest with her soft feminine mounds. Their bodies started that delicious push and pull, igniting sparks of desire like two electrified bare cables that attract each other violently and deadly.

Moans and groans mixed with wet sounds and hard breaths were the only thing disrupting the silence of nature, Betty bringing her hands to fist the lapels of his jacket in wanton desire, urging him more against her body, her thighs flexing at each side of his hips. He grunted and the said hips bucked at the involuntary action of her muscles, Jughead feeling himself growing harder by the minute, by each dirty swirl of her tongue, by each rub of her breasts against his chest, by the heat that radiated right at the place that ached for her. Forcefully, he gripped her hipbones harder, nails digging at the soft material of her pretty dress, and jerked them against him, Betty being dipped back from the force of him attacking her mouth more enthusiastically as they both moaned loudly at the sensation of his prominent erection against her center.    

“You are the most addicting thing I ever tasted.” Jughead breathed a primal groan against her mouth, lips dancing to change the angle of the kiss, Betty’s tongue curling to leave a sultry wet trail against the center of his chapped lips, from down to upper, too high on him and the way he had her whole body burning with his illegal kisses and sinful compliments.

“Good girls are not supposed to kiss that way.” He grabbed her chin to force her to look at him, green eyes hooded and filled with filthy promises, as her fingers slayed against his scalp holding him captive against the softness of her bee-stung lips.

“Guess you unlocked the bad girl underneath…” her erotic voice travelled all the way through his bones, a gut-wrecking grunt erupting from his chest before he dived forward in sexual frenzy and demanded to torture more skin, his skillful mouth travelling south, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her porcelain neck laced with soft moans of appreciation at her natural female essence and that lilac perfume that made him instantly a weak man at her mercy. A series of filthy sucks and dirty licks had her gripping leather once again or anchoring herself from his now more unbuttoned shirt, the denim a wrinkled mess under her claw like fingers, Betty moaning her enjoyment with her head thrown back and her blonde locks cascading like a waterfall of lust down her arched back. Her legs hitched higher in reflex as he delivered a hard bite at the sensitive skin of her pulse point, the soothing figure eights the tip of his tongue was applying sensually afterwards making her dizzy and a mess of high-pitched sighs and heavy pants, as her hips were rolling in-sync with his. One of his large hands slid to her smooth leg to caress softly from her knee to the pushed up hem of her dress, his lips found the valley of her breasts, her wet underwear grinded roughly against his thickness and Jughead groaned against the curve of her heaving mounts, gripping forcefully the skin of her thigh to restrain himself, thump inches away from the lace he was sure adorned her perfect curves underneath.

Betty’s hand shot between them, grabbing hold of his wrist, both of them pulling back to look at each other, breathless and panting like they had just ran a marathon. “Jughead, I haven’t…” she admitted in a small voice, doe eyes filled with lust turning shy and alert waiting for his reaction. She hoped her inexperience wouldn’t be a deal breaker for the utterly hot and definitely widely experienced guy in between her legs.

Jughead blinked a couple of times to collect his blood-less brain. “…Nothing?” he stupidly blurted, mentally kicking himself in the gut as soon as the word left his swollen lips for sounding so insensitive and such…a guy.

Hopefully, in between all the awkwardness of the situation Betty found some amusement that made her smirk cheekily, despite her scarlet cheeks and still timid eyes. “Well, my brief fling with Chuck had me excelling in manual labor and him enjoying plenty of benefits, if that counts.” She bit back in sarcasm, despite her more rosy cheeks at the sexual activities she was admitting of.

“Always an ass, can’t say I’m surprised.” Jughead nearly growled, his hold on her thighs tightening possessively for a minute, before he sighed lovingly, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. “It’s fine. We don’t have to—” like the perfect gentleman he was, he went to let her know that everything was absolutely perfect as it was and she didn’t need to indulge in anything she wasn’t ready or didn’t fancy at the moment.

She was quick to cut him off, the edges of her voice colored with desire. “I want to.” Without missing a beat or breaking their heated eye contact, she buried her hands under her dress, shaky but determined fingers taking hold of her panties at her hips and tugging forward, the blonde Vixen momentarily retracting her long legs from around his waist to push the offensive garment completely off her body. Jughead gulped at the action, burning desire and a knot of anticipation making his Adam’s apple bob in a painful manner, leaving her eyes to look between them when he felt Betty pushing the skimpy lace inside the front pocket of his jeans, a part of it hanging out loosely like a shiny trophy or a flag of conquer. It was the same baby blue thong Jughead had complimented with a round hickey against her prominent hipbone during their first make out session, the blonde minx staying true to her promise, and right now Betty Cooper was approaching a very dangerous Jughead Jones territory.

“Touch me.” She breathed in bone-aching need, making a show out of opening her legs once again on either side of his hips, Jughead moving more against her body and gripping the back of her knees as his predatory orbs slid from her flirty eyes to her heaving breasts and down to his own promise land, still hidden by her utterly frustrating mini dress.

“You know, Cooper” his wicked little smirk and gravelly voice made her whole body shiver as he slithered his body against hers, cheek pressed on cheek, chapped lips talking hotly against her ear as the fingers of his right hand were running torturously slow on the inside of her thigh and towards the center of her arousal “right now you are making my ultimate fantasy come true. Public place, my bike, a long legged beauty perched on top of it, open-wide and” the pads of his fingers reached their destination emitting a breathless gasp from the said beauty “so fucking wet.” He growled against her cheek, his teeth grazing the blushing flesh, before grinding together at the sensation of her being already so ready for him.

The hurricane of lust that followed had them in a wrecked mess of broken signs and desperate push and pulls. With a strong hold on his biceps, short nails digging painfully on leather, Betty forced his whole weight on her, Jughead lashing forward with a moan that got suppressed by her hot mouth, their tongues sliding against each other passionately, feverishly. His fingers were massaging her nether lips, spreading the salty wetness in a teasing way that had her losing her mind and grinding helplessly against his miraculous hand, loving the grunts and heavy male breaths he was leaving inside her wide open mouth. His thump found her clit easily, rubbing the sensitive nerves in slow but film circles, Betty throwing her head back and disconnecting their lips to let a deep throaty sigh as he watched her with his mouth open in desire leaving cries of pleasure under him.

Her broken more was all it took for Jughead to completely unwind.

The intrusion of his fingers was slightly uncomfortable but utterly fulfilling, the first one teasing her like no one ever had, the second burning her alive and causing a chorus of filthy moans and erotic high-pitched sighs to escape from the depths of her subconscious.

“Juggie, oh God…” The girl dropped her head back, eyes rolling at the back of her skull at the newfound feeling of pleasure he was offering her.

“Fuck, baby girl, you are so tight.” His dirty talk only made her moan louder, her legs tightening involuntarily at his sides and her hips rolling to meet his heavenly fingers, both of them hearing  how soaking wet she was at this point.

His free hand caressed heavily down her neck, collarbone, sternum, his pitched black from desire eyes following the movement until her breast got captured in a strong hold, the young Serpent palming the round flesh slow and erotic, making Betty dizzy and in the verge of slipping off the edge. His fingers played with the hem of her dress around her rich cleavage, slowly lowering it along with the cup of a strapless baby blue bra and revealing a dark pink and perky nipple, Jughead groaning low in his chest at the steamy visual the sexiest girl on earth was offering for his eyes only. Without warning his lips captured the hard nerve-ending in coordination with his thump finding again her clit and Betty lost it, fisting violently his now messy raven locks and forming sounds she never thought she would.

“Let go, baby.” Jughead murmured against her skin, freeing the abused flesh with a pop and delivering a wet lick with the flat of his tongue from the curve of her breast all the way up to her neck, nibbling at her jawline. His fingers curled inside her, pumping hard and fast now and poking that very spot that even Betty had trouble finding, Jughead bucking against her heat involuntarily when she tightened even more and her moans became heavier. Splaying a hand on the side of her neck and using his thump on her chin to get her to look at him, he commanded with that dark sexy look in his intense eyes.

“Do it, Betty.” The use of her first name, uttered for the first time and in the hottest situation she ever experienced, drew the much needed orgasm out of her, Betty’s whole body spasming at the force of the feeling and her head dropping heavy on his shoulder, her hot moans and pleasure-filled sighs causing goosebumps to appear at the sensitive skin of his neck.

Her wince of complain at the loss of contact turned into a filthy groan at the sight of him sucking his fingers clean, tasting her sweet feminine essence on his mouth and moaning his appreciation. 

“Okay, officially best date ever.” Betty let a breathy chuckle, Jughead joining her too with a shake of his head, the blushing girl curling her arms and legs around the boy that not only made her heart flutter but her bones melt too with desire.

“Who told you that I’m done with you?” He raised his eyebrows with a wicked side smirk, his fingers trailing again at the inside of her thigh.

“Oh God, again?” Her shiny green eyes rounded in bisbelief, her hips jerking forward once the pad of his index finger connected with her clit, still hyper-sensitive after her amazing high. “What about you?” She worried her down lip with her teeth, momentarily glancing down where his prominent erection was stretching his jeans, only for him to lean forward and leave a chaste kiss on her lips. 

“Shush, Cooper, and enjoy your benefits for once.” Jughead grinned, bopping his nose against hers and making her giggle happily despite the fingers that were again spreading her wetness under her dress. “Plus, I really wanna cross ‘eating on a motorbike’ off my bucket list.” He told her cheekily, lowering himself to the ground in front of her and offering her that sexy wink of his right before disappering between her thighs.

Betty Cooper found a new love for motorbikes that night.

“So those cryptic memoirs of yours involve me in any way? And, if so, how PG are they?”

A hot breath next to his ear startled him, denim clad shoulders jumping lightly in fright at the sudden intrusion, and Jughead snapped out of his deep state of concentration which roughly translated to him muting the annoying human beings around him and sulking in self-pity that he got to spend yet another Monday in the hellhole that was called Riverdale High. The sly giggle that followed though, along with a blur of blonde hair gathered in a bouncy ponytail, forced a sigh of relief to tremble out of his smiley lips, watching in amusement as his favorite girl rounded him to take a seat on the cement step he was sprawled over. His right foot dropped on a step lower to make room for her and his left one stayed put behind her, the inside of his leg touching the tan material of her jacket at the side of her arm that complimented nicely her natural beauty along with her soft teal sweater and white slightly ripped at the knees skinny jeans. Suddenly, his mood was as bright as the happy colors of her outfit and her personality, contradicting every choice and belief of his moody self.

“Nice attempt at snooping, Cooper” he scoffed, closing the small black notebook he was always scribing away in, trapping its black cord inside to mark the page “but my lips are sealed.” He shot his eyebrows up in a playful manner, leaning a tad forward while she did the same, a dashing smile on her shimmery lips. “Hey you.” His tone turned soft as well as his handsome face, fingers timidly sliding to drum against the small patch of bare skin on her knee in subtle affection. “Any reason you are awfully cheerful today?” he questioned teasingly, blue eyes shining in delight under the morning sun.

“Mmm…” Betty made a thinking expression, as her hands made grabby motions against the sheepish lapels of his jacket, her eyes roaming over his torso in appreciation. She hadn’t really seen him in anything other than his Serpent jacket and, even though the black leather was something that always made her mind go spiraling, she had to admit that the blue denim he was sporting today was definitely a strong worth-drooling-over look for him.  “Probably the yummy hotdogs I had on Friday night.” She replied with an Oscar-winning poker face, before curling her lips into a cute grin, green eyes impishly darting around as she dragged her next words. “Maybe a yummy guy too.”

“Is that so?” Jughead faked obliviousness. “Do I happen to know him?”

“Probably not.” she pushed her lips together while nodding in all seriousness. “He’s way too cool to be of your league.” At his offended gasp, Betty couldn’t help but burst out laughing, him smiling big at the carefree sound.

“Really, Cooper?” he knocked the side of her knee with his while she kept on giggling, the fingers now full on splayed on her thigh, delivering a torturous slow caress. Their eyes connected as he leaned even closer, Betty’s laugher fainting into a lovesick smile and his voice dropping an octave as he whispered practically against her inviting lips. “Well, I could show you some cool tricks with m—”

“Ah, predictably.”

A chirpy and borderline annoying voice dissolved the amorous cloud around them as a flash of red voluminous hair invaded their peripheral vision. Betty sighed, closing her eyes momentarily at the interruption, both of them leaning away from each other and turning to face a demanding Cheryl Blossom.

“Well-well, another episode of Betty and Cry-Baby caught in a maypole of denial and restrain when all they wanna do is shove tongues down each other’s throat.” The redhead waved a hand to indicate how fed up she was with their cat and mouse game. “If this was a TV-show, it would be canceled by the second episode.” She deadpanned.

Jughead frowned at her, Betty let an amused scoff. “What’s up, Cheryl?”

“Oh but I’m not here for you, Betty dearest.” Her voice turned sugary sweet, shooting a teasing smirk at her cousin. “I’m interested in you” she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Jughead “Jax Teller of our quaint little town.” The young Serpent shook his head at the comparison while the blonde girl formed a mirthful grimace. “Next Saturday mommy and daddy dearest are going to be in all their successful business people glory in an out of town investors trip so there’s gonna be a party at my place, 9 o’clock. Don’t be late, bring booze and even your” Cheryl paused to find civilized words “werewolf pack of corny Neanderthals.”

Betty and Jughead shared a look. “You do realize that you are planning weeks ahead, right?” her cousin just shrugged nonchalantly, way too excited to spread the word about yet another epic party organized by the Queen Bee of Riverdale High. “And anyway, when was this impromptu party decided?” she questioned her suspiciously.

Cheryl pushed her bloody red lips in thought. “Uh, first period. I am horny plus craving alcohol so this equals a big Blossom party minus my clothes!” she shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Math genius, right there.” Jughead remarked in his usual sarcasm.

“Thank you, you walking orgasm.” The popular girl thanked him almost sincerely, placing a hand over her chest, and making him raise his eyebrows smugly at the nickname. “So that’s all, I’ll let you get back to ruining Betty’s panties one per glance.” The aforementioned girl huffed in scandalous embarrassment, the raven-haired boy next to her nodding in appreciation with an amused smirk as the chaos that was named Cheryl Blossom turned to leave. “Later, losers.” She threw over her shoulder with an essential flick of her red tresses before she was sprinting down the school’s backyard in search of other innocent victims.

“Okay, she is a bit…” Betty struggled to find a suitable word as they watched her joining some girls from the cheerleading squad.

“Of a psycho crackhead that reincarnated into the body of the teenager version of those bratty toddlers right out of Toddlers & Tiaras?” Jughead quickly offered cleverly.

“I would say excessive but you’ve got a point.” She grimaced as he turned back to her, merriment obvious on his face. “I’m sorry about all this” Betty sighed “I haven’t even told her about our date and already she is making a fuss about the two of us.” She squirmed uneasily, hoping that the tactless ambush wasn’t going to scare Jughead away.

“You didn’t?” he eyed her surprised, a frown of confusion shadowing his face. They hadn’t had the chance to meet again over the weekend, mainly because he was neck deep with Serpent duties and she was prepping hard for an upcoming English quiz, but they were practically glued on their phones talking and texting non-stop, so in his books that appeared to be pretty auspicious. The lack of her not blubbing all about their date to her best friends, just like any other typical teenage girl, well, that brought an alarming code red sign to flash in his mind.

“No, not really.” She refused with a small shrug. “I mean” she was quick to add when she saw his face drop at the revelation “I didn’t know if that was something you wanted or, more so, if there’s an “us” to begin with.” A nervous chuckle accompanied the end of her sentence, as she dropped her head, suddenly eager to watch the picking of her fingers.

“Betty” there was the use of her first name again, uttered so softly and sweet that made her feel warm all over, as the hand that was on her thigh slipped between hers and he laced their fingers together, Betty eyeing their joined hands with a small smile “we went out and had a great time and kissed a lot and it was amazing…” his voice trembled around the adjective, as if he still couldn’t believe the kind of connection they had. “Plus, you know” he ducked his head to find her eyes, his tone becoming a naughty, collusive whisper “there’s still a blue thong in the pocket of my nice pair of jeans.” This made her blush and bite her lip in embarrassment, Jughead chuckling lightly at her reaction and tracing the red on her cheek with the thumb of his free hand, mesmerized. “So, there’s definitely an “us” for me.” He concluded in all honesty, ocean blue connecting with meadow green in a stare-off that held so many newfound feelings and words unsaid.

At her silence, he hesitated. “Isn’t this something you want? For us to be us…” He was mildly frustrated by his poor vocabulary and anything but eloquent word structure but he was too preoccupied with searching for any hint of rejection on her pretty face to care about his crumbling ability to talk, his heart beating impossibly fast at the possibility of her not spending the previous nights awake and thinking of him just like he had done, rewinding every moment of their date with shiny eyes happy and alert towards his bedroom ceiling.

“Yeah, of course.” Betty assured him passionately. “I had a great time too, obviously.” She smiled wholeheartedly at him, tightening the hold of their hands and watching him exhale the big breath he was holding, relieved and content. “And all this with you is new but very exciting and incredible…” her eyes rounded in delight and her cheeks became crimson at the way he made her feel. “I just wasn’t sure how official you wanted to make it.” She admitted in a small voice.

Jughead’s fingers curled under her chin, raising her head to look at him. “Well, how official can it get if I do this?” he whispered cheekily before his lips were on hers, Betty letting a squeal of surprise that gave the perfect opportunity for his tongue to invade her mouth, the kiss turning feverish and needy in a second. Heads twirling from side to side in languid passion with demanding lips nibbling and sucking and drowning every sigh and sharp inhale of breath, both of them lost themselves inside the kiss ignoring the hushed whispers that instantly rose from the prying eyes of the teenagers around them in the crowded yard.

Reluctantly, Jughead pulled back, eyes still closed and lips wet and dark red from their intense make out, leaving Betty gasping and leaning forward for more. “Definitely front page material to the school’s newspaper and the talk of the town.” She confirmed his speculations breathlessly against his lips, combined with a faint dreamy smile and flattering eyelashes, still trying to steady her poor heart and reconnect her brain with reality.

“Hm” the shaky breath of his hum fanned her face, his thump caressing the corner of her now lip balm free lips. “I was aiming more for a worldwide trend but I guess there’s always tomorrow.” He joked still lightheaded, leaving a chaste kiss on her grinning lips and fully pulling back, his hands dropping to rest casually on her hips.

“Listen, about this party…” Betty shook her head to rearrange her thoughts. “I mean it’s in two weeks, I don’t even know why Cheryl is spreading the world just yet, I guess she is always extra like that, but anyway because I’ll be there, you don’t have to—” she started to rant uncontrollably, anxious and scared that she was forcing him into something he was better off without, but he was fast to cut her off.

“If you’ll be there, I’ll be there.” Jughead promised. “Plus, Reggie is really getting on my nerves with his constant nudging about me not being an effective wingman because apparently it’s my fault that every logical human being flees at the mention of him taking off his pants.” He used a snarky excuse but Betty knew that him coming to this party was all for her sake. And her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“Well, I’m sure a party at Thornhill will grand him the heartfelt love story he is desperately seeking.” She grimaced in fake understanding before laughing at Jughead’s eye roll. “Gotta go, I have a freshman waiting for me and my AP Physics brain at the tutor center and I’m already late.” She announced with a tiny groan, patting his jean clad thigh before standing up.

Jughead smirked in confusion. “Seriously, Cooper, what else can you do?”

She leaned down, closing his chin between her thump and her pointer before whispering flirtatiously inches away from his face. “Right about everything and a lot of other things that you haven’t seen yet.” She challenged with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows, leaving a wet smooch on his gasping in shocked amusement mouth. “Talk to you later.” she laughed as she gathered her backpack, loving the fact that she caught him biting his lip at the promise. “And” she was minutes from skipping down the small stairs before she turned and fisted the sheepish lapel of his jacket “don’t brood.” She warned with round, mischievous eyes. “Now that we’re official, it tarnishes my image of sunshine and rainbows.” The blonde menace snorted a laugh as she freed his jacket only for him to collide with the cement half wall behind him, Betty earning a light smack on her butt from his notebook that made her squeak happily, Jughead watching her with a shit-eating grin make her way through the crowd.

Oh, Cooper, it’s so on.

There was nothing atypical about this night. The crisp night air was lingering like a thick veil as a true reminder of what spring always looked like in Riverdale, the heavy downpour was staying true to the words of every meteorologist and every weather forecast that promised biblical storms before the residents of the small town could enjoy some sunnier days. It was an ordinary Wednesday, a little after nine, and two teenagers were running down the abandoned roads of the Southside, soaking figures in search of a shelter.

Three weeks together and of course there was never a boring moment between them.

“We’re gonna catch pneumonia, you crazy girl!” Jughead hollered, more amused than annoyed, eyes squinting under the ferocity of the water droplets against his face.

“We need to take this beauty somewhere safe.” Betty insisted for the hundredth time, voice rising over the noise of nature around them, gripping tighter the right handle of Jughead’s Harley, as she was assisting him in the manual task of pushing the broken down vehicle. They were having their usual date night after Betty’s shift at the Southside Elementary, enjoying a refreshing drive down at the edge of the river when suddenly the bike stopped working only for the malicious rain to be added to the equation of unfortunate events.

“Believe me, I’m crying really un-manly on the inside but right now the bike is not a priority.” The raven haired boy sent her a side glance under his dripping locks against his forehead, pushing her hands out of the way to take control of both handles stubbornly.

“We can’t just–” The blonde girl started to object, equally stubborn too with a scrunched nose in a girly whine, only for a loud thunder to cut her mid-sentence, its earth-shuttering echo making both teens jump and Jughead to lash forward, his torso curling over hers in an attempt to shield her from any danger and potential harm. Once the ominous sound subdued, Jughead, taking matters into his own hands with determination, pushed down the side stand of the motorbike, leaving it to lean over the pavement, before quickly ushering the angel of a girl on his side to the nearest wall, the edge of its rooftop offering the much needed protection from the violent cries of heaven.

“Jesus, Cooper, I should have known from the start that you are going to be the death of me.” The young Serpent huffed in disbelief, face glistering from a thin layer of water and eyes from the adrenaline running through his veins.

Betty chuckled lightly, resting back against the wall and fisting his leather jacket, pulling his soaking form flat against hers. “I thought you were a fan of wild rides, Jones.” The teasing in her tone screamed trouble and her smirk was the definition of sin as she let her lips brush against his ever so lightly.

“Fire.” Her murmured inches away from swallowing her whole, eyes closed as he desperately tried to control his breathing. “You’re always playing with fire…” he sighed in warning, always putty under the spell of her feminine presence, and joined their mouths in a kiss that made Betty’s toes curl deliciously inside her ruined sneakers.

“Are you okay?” Jughead asked once they reluctantly pulled back for oxygen, concerned about her wellbeing, rubbing the side of her arms vigorously to offer any added warmth he could manage to her freezing limbs.

The blonde beauty let a faint giggle at the adorableness of the action, prompting him to laugh lightly too. “I’m perfectly fine.” She let him know in all honesty, down lip trapped inside her pristine whites in order to prevent her face from breaking from the giant smile of happiness and love that threatened to appear on her rosy lips.

Jughead examined their surroundings briefly, frown lines deepening between his eyebrows. “The rain is only getting worse. You stay here; I’ll run to the trailer and then come pick you up with my dad’s work truck.”

“You’re not running anywhere in this weather!” Betty objected to the absurd idea in a high pitched voice.

“It’s fine.” Jughead shook his head in an aloof manner. “Driving you home safe is number one on my emergency list right now.” He made a move to pull back from her, ready to go on with his plan, only for her to grab the inside of his forearm.

“Jug…” she all but whispered, green eyes intense and hiding so many undertones of things unspoken. “I don’t wanna go home.” The sentence was simple but the desperate whine in her tone, the need in her stare, had Jughead’s mind spiraling.

“Betty…” he breathed, the rare use of her first name indicating that the situation was serious or tender, examining her carefully, double-checking, needing to make sure.

She sensed his hesitation, driven solemnly from his principal of always making her feel comfortable. “I don’t wanna go home.” She repeated, firmer, more sure, nails digging in the leather on his forearm and eyelashes fluttering over the sensual shade of her irises.

There was the silence of a heartbeat, Jughead’s eyes dropping down over her dripping figure, a white t-shirt clinging on her curves and turning his throat dry at the faint shadow of some vibrant colored bra underneath.  “Okay.” He answered in a pant, taking off his black leather jacket in a hurry and draping it over her shoulders and her light grey jacket for extra layers. “C’mere. I know where we can go.” He told her softly against her ear, Betty too preoccupied with the butterflies in her stomach to even nod, as she let him guide them back towards the waterfall of rain.

Moments later they were climbing up a slippery fire escape, Jughead expertly flicking open the wide window at the very top and helping her climb inside before following behind her with an agile hop. Illuminated only by the moonlight and the horrendous white light of the lamppost down the road, the room looked tiny under Betty’s trying to adjust eyes, with barely minimum furniture; an old desk tucked against the wall under two selves suffocated by books, an old TV-set with a basket full of old movies next to it on the floor, a round floor mattress covered neatly with some dark purple sheets and littered with random throw pillows, creating a colorful puffy headboard. It was cozy and sheltered, the atmosphere of the small attic offering a weird soothing feeling at Betty’s spiked nerves of anticipation, the drumming of the water against the wooden roof mingling with the faint sounds of some old school rock coming from the rest of the building beneath them.

“It’s called The Wythe Wyrm; it’s our most popular Southside bar.” Jughead went to explain quickly upon watching her examining the place. “My dad owns the place and when my sister and I were younger he used to leave us up here while he worked.” He moved to turn on a small heater at the corner, shaky hands fumbling with buttons. “Now this is mostly my lone wolf dent when I want to write or read or just disconnect myself from the world.” He concluded with a sigh, rising up to his full height, before turning to face the girl that all this time was watching him with doe eyes alight and delighted by the view of his slim figure clad in a soaked black band tee and ripped jeans while leaning back against the wide arched window.

“Also” the word got caught in his throat, his hands getting buried inside the pockets of his jeans for him to hide his ridiculous and newfound awkwardness “my intentions are purely innocent; I’m not assuming anything by bringing you here.” He told her truthfully, his baby blues soft as they connected with her shining green orbs.

Betty bit her lip while slowly taking off her jacket – his Serpent jacket already folded and placed on the window sill with care – her icy cold fingers then moving to play with the hem of her t-shirt. Jughead followed the action, eyes drinking every inch of porcelain skin, until the sticky garment was a worthless puddle on the hardware floor. “And what if mine aren’t?” She whispered the visual innuendo she was offering him, freeing her wet and frizzy golden locks from their elastic prison, the ends of her halo-like hair grazing her heaving mounts and the magenta silk of her elegantly sensuous bra.

“We don’t have to do this…” Jughead breathed with difficulty, his hands curling in fists inside his pockets at his attempt of self-restrain, slowly walking to stand inches away from her inflamed half naked body. “As bad as I want to, I-I can wait.” He promised her in all honesty, his face the epitome of a guy in love for the first time.

“I don’t wanna wait.” Even though a whisper, Betty’s voice was certain, determined, the innocent-like girl sliding her hands up his arms to rest lovingly against his cheeks. “I wanna feel this with you.” The confirmation that he wanted her just as much came through his eyes, pitch dark and pupils dilated, and Betty didn’t need any other sign to rise on her tip toes and move to crash her lips against his, only for the sensation of his hot breath on her parted mouth to disappear last minute, along with the air inside her lungs, as she felt his strong hands turning her around, her back colliding with his strong chest and her semi-bare front being forced against the already foggy window.

Walking down this rocky road

Wondering where my life is leading

Rollin' on to the bitter end

Finding out along the way

What it takes to keep love living

You should know how it feels, my friend

The faint echo of a slow rock song started filling the silence between their gradually heavier breaths and Jughead’s wet sounds against her skin. Holding her hip for leverage, his free hand brushed her dumped hair off to the right side of her neck, attacking the other one with lazy sucks and teasing bites, his teeth nibbling and marking, having her writhing against him and throwing her head back against his shoulder in despair. She wasn’t cold anymore but she was shivering, not from the rain, but from his heated ministrations and the filthy way he was starting to ravish her body, the wetness in her underwear competing against the rain-inflicted wetness all over her body and winning. With an on-point and rather hard bite on her pulse point, Jughead tugging skin and moaning around the abused flesh, her own moan fogged the window and one of her hands shot back to grab his thigh, her firm behind finding him half-hard and ready to introduce her to a new world of wonders and sin. Both of them moaned loudly at the contact, Jughead’s hips bucking against her glorious ass and his fingers turning white around her hipbones.

Ooh, I want you to stay

Ooh, I want you today

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” Jughead’s manly whisper caressed the shell of her ear, before his teeth grazed the soft skin, his long palms caressing hotly from her shoulders to her shoulder blades, ribs, hips, where they stopped to jerk her backwards and ground her heavier against the place that felt heavenly thick and hard against her round curves. Betty sighed loudly in wanton and bit her lip at the thought of feeling him without any barriers, between her legs, inside her, her thighs clenching involuntarily at the images her dizzy brain was creating, images that were minutes away from becoming reality.

She felt his lips travel from the back of her neck all the way down her back, biting and leaving open mouthed kisses before his fingers were at the button of her jeans, quickly undoing it and pulling the damp material down with difficulty, his make-you-weak-in-the-knees kisses continuing down the long expense of her legs until the denim was abandoned to the side. The midnight blue thong that greeted him, barely there and utterly lacey, had him groaning low in his chest and involuntarily delivering a hard bite against the curve of her ass, causing Betty to squeal a moan of approval. Sliding back up, Jughead used the tip of his tongue to leave a wet, sinful trail all the way up her spine, unclasping expertly her bra on the way and throwing it to join the rest of her clothes on the floor. Betty was a moaning and mewling mess at this point, head rolling back against him and body following his hands blindly in search for something, anything, that would give her sanity back.

“Please, do something. Touch me.” Betty whined in dark desire, one of her hands landing with a slapping sound on the glass in front of her, her short nails clawing the transparent surface in frustration, as his hands kept roaming all over her body, her stomach, hips, thighs, ribs but never on the places that were aching for the simplest of his touches.

“Where do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” His hoarse from arousal voice had her thighs clenching, a groan leaving the depths of her chest when his palm lightly caressed her underside of her breast. “Here?” he faked innocence as he squeezed urgently the soft mount, moaning low in his throat at the sensation of her nipple hardening more under his touch. “Or, better yet, here?” his free hand pushed her panties to the side without any warning, finding her dripping wet, Jughead grunting painfully at the discovery and the high pitched erotic sigh that left her plump lips.

The firm circles and hard pinches on her nipple were in coordination with the expert rubs on her clit, the neglected pink bud of her left breast enjoying the miraculous cooling sensation of the cold glass as the blonde angel was forced under the weight of the guy that was pleasing her, coaxing her into engaging in a filthy concert of operatic moans. When two of his fingers invaded suddenly her wet heat, immediately curling against the spot that always made her see stars and planets, both of them cursed under their breaths, her at the wonderful things he was doing to her body and him at the unbelievable tightness she was promising him.

“I want to feel you inside me.” Betty’s stuttering around a loud sigh was what stopped him, the said girl groaning in frustration at the loss of contact before he turned her again, effortlessly picking her up and urging her long legs to close around his hips, one of his arms curled around her waist while the other held back the waterfall of blonde waves to kiss her senseless and with all the passion he had for her and only her.

I'm ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

Ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

Oh, for your love

“God, I have to taste you.” Jughead growled while dropping her on the round mattress, Betty’s soft gasp blowing away the balls of dust that were caused by the action as she landed on the dark sheets with a soft thud and on a cloud of slick hair, her miles-long legs still wrapped around his waist, while he rested on his knees between them, fisting the back of his shirt to pull it off his chest, hard planes of muscle glistering under the moonlight from the dumbness of the rain. Her slender fingers came to caress the hardness of his torso on their own accord, her doe eyes following muscles and popping veins as she could practically feel her panties getting ruined by the state of arousal she was in, her index finger curling around his belt loop and her hips rising up to seek some friction in coordination with the embarrassing mewl of want that left her swollen lips.

A devilish smirk curled on his lips, dark blue eyes impishly provoking and connected with hers, as he confidently popped open the button of his jeans and lowered the zipper, wanting to give his suffocated self some room to breathe and giving Betty a dirty sneak peek of a thickness that made her stomach drop with excitement. Without breaking eye contact, Jughead curled his fingers around her lacey excuse of panties, pulling them down her shapely legs torturously slow until they were only an accessory around her ankle, exposing her fully to his eyes and groaning low in his chest at the sight of her open and ready. He dove for her neck with a faint growl, teeth unmercifully creating purple marks and palms caressing hotly the sides of her open legs, Betty moaning loudly and anchoring herself on his strong back, as her own lips started leaving kisses on his cheek and neck, making him groan into her skin. She could feel the ends of his dark waves tickling her skin as his lips moved lower to nibble on the bony valley of her round breasts, making her throw her head back in a series of moans, both his palms caressing up her sides until they settled on her soft mounds, massaging them and pushing them together while he watched from his spot between them her pretty face getting lost in pleasure. Once satisfied with the growing hickey on her central bone, Jughead’s lips traced the soft skin until a perky nipple was inside them, causing a loud moan to leave Betty’s lips while he sucked and licked the pink bud. He brought his other hand to tease the neglected one and she felt up in the air with the wonders his tongue and teeth were doing, the guy that was featured in all of her late night fantasies switching between his breasts to pay the other the same treatment and making her a moaning mess under him. He sucked harder his time and Betty almost ached off the bed with eyes round and covered in lust, causing him to groan along with her around the sensitive bud and continue more vigorously than before, his hips giving an involuntary hard thrust against her heat and pinning her hips more forcefully under the weight of his.

She didn’t find it in herself to feel ashamed when her back arched and her lips let a whine of complain as he freed the abused flesh with a wet pop, or when she caught a glimpse of the dampness at the front of his black boxers caused by her. Her brain couldn’t function when the tip of his tongue gave her hard nipple a last teasing kitten lick, or when his open and breathing hotly mouth trailed down her stomach or when his palms took hold of the back of her already shaking thighs to push them more open and back towards her. And she definitely lost every ounce of sanity she had left when his tongue licked sinfully from the inside of her thigh to the place that was burning for his attention.

Now I'm on my feet again

Better things are bound to happen

All my dues surely must be paid

Many miles and many tears

Times were hard but now they're changing

You should know that I'm not afraid

Betty never thought it would feel that way. But with her legs open wide and thrown over his strong shoulders, his fingers toying with her sore nipples and his mouth not letting even a drop of her arousal go to waste, she was forced in a sweet agony, with her waist arched like a perfect bow and her head thrown back against the pillows, the veins on her neck popping under the volume of her erotic sounds and a shade of crimson coloring her inflamed skin. He was licking and sucking, teeth grazing just as much, tongue curling in all the right places, and the vibrations of his manly moans of enjoyment felt so filthy, Betty looking down momentarily at the guy between her legs but losing the staring battle once she caught him watching her, then awarding her with a loud wet suck. She spat a “fuck, Jughead ”, her legs tensed up and shivered and her hips started grinding against his tongue with vigor, his groan of surprise and arousal at the use of the swear word and the single digit that slipped effortlessly inside of her triggering an orgasm so intense that changed the whole route of her existence.

Betty used her strong hold on his messy hair to pull him up in a desperate need to have his lips against her moaning ones again, their tongues meeting instantly and starting battling with hunger, the taste of her arousal having them both panting heavily. She felt him nibbling her down lip and she let another moan when he tagged it between his teeth, her in reflex sucking at his tongue and driving him crazy, making him fist her sprawled on his pillow golden locks and angle her head to smother her mouth with his, desperate to swallow all her feminine sighs and groans. Jughead pushed into her opened legs more, her arching her waist towards him and curling a leg around his thigh, succeeding in rolling them over and gaining the upper hand with a victory grin inside their kiss.

“I’ve never been so wet before.” Her bee-stung lips danced hotly against his ear, hard nipples grazing against his pecs and hips rolling deliciously over his, her tongue curling teasingly over the spot behind his earlobe that always made him shiver in her arms. He let a moaning chuckle, closing his eyes at the treatment and the filthy mouth that no one else but him knew she, Betty Cooper good girl extraordinaire, possessed.

“I guess I’m that good after all, Cooper.” The Serpent teased her with that cocky smirk of his, his hands squeezing heavily her bare ass and his lips nibbling at her prominent collarbones.

“We’ll see about that.” She forced him back against the mattress by his shoulders, looking down at him with that glint in her green eyes and her good girl smile, circling her hips over his painful erection and smiling bigger when he threw his head back against the pillows, too wound up by the action of her hips and the sight of the naked goddess on top of him. The blonde angel leaned forward, lips starting to leave a trail of wet peck kisses down his heaving chest as they kept their hooded eyes locked with each other’s, Jughead’s fingers threading in her hair as she moved more south, teeth lightly tagging at the skin next to his happy trail before sucking a mark on one of his prominent V-lines that she always wanted to taste, causing him to grunt painfully and his hips to buck violently against her face.

“Careful.” Jughead warned with his raspy aroused voice and that dark intensity in his predatory stare. “You are approaching war zone.” Even his sarcasm had turned dark and sinfully wicked, Betty licking her lips at the promise behind his words.

“Any lethal weapons?” She decided to play along, raising a perfect eyebrow in a challenge, while sliding his jeans down his legs and leaving him to kick them off completely as she climbed back up his raven hair littered thighs.

“Ready and loaded.” He offered her the boyish smile she fell in love with, only this time it screamed danger and hedonic sin.

Betty lowered his boxers, his impossibly hard erection springing free, and making her lick her lips again around a delighted smirk. “Then I can’t wait to pull the trigger.” She told him in a sultry whisper before her glossy, full lips wrapped around his tip and sucked sensually, making him hiss unceremoniously and curse under his breath. Jughead felt his member getting more and more buried in the heat of her mouth before being released wet and dripping and an unknown force gave him strength to lazily jolt his head up and watch her incredulously, eyes wild with sexual arousal at the sight of the symbol of Riverdale’s purity, the one and only Betty Cooper, greedily licking the underside of him from bottom to top with a loud slurp that made his knees weak and his heart drum like crazy inside his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Betty…” her lips engulfed him again and his head dropped back with a puffy thud, Betty taking more of him in her mouth this time and actually bobbing her head a couple of times, creating an amazing friction and tightness low in his belly, Jughead feeling three hundred percent positive that if she kept that up he would be spilling everything inside her pretty little mouth in a mere matter of seconds.

“Fuck, stop…” The writhing boy underneath her let a deep moan, resulting in her gasping around him and letting her tongue caress heavily the vein on the underside of his thick member, Jughead’s hips shuttering at the change of temperature and the depth of her mouth. His eyes scrunched closed and his hand shot to fist her still damp golden locks at the top of her scalp, his legs tensing at the back of her thighs as she was straddling him.

She was not in a mood to stop but he was not in a mood to be disobeyed.

Ooh, I want you to stay

Ooh, I want you today

The air left her lungs and her lips opened in a silent scream as Betty was forced again on her back, Jughead’s weight heavy on top of her and one of her hands violently pinned over her head. “I need you, goddammit.” He snapped against her lips, frustrated and minutes before exploding, his hips thrusting against hers and the tip of his cock parting her, making them both moan at the contact. Jughead could feel his heart thudding loudly inside his heaving chest, the first time wanting a woman with such frenzy, trying to control his male urges from fucking her to oblivion.

“Take me.” Her breathless whimper dissolved every small ounce of self restrain he had left. His gaze was all-consuming as her naked chest was rolling deliciously over his, her dripping center rubbing up and down his iron hard on and he dropped his opened mouth against hers, their lip-lock immediately turning wet and urgent and dirty, as the hand that wasn’t holding her wrist captive blindly went to search for his jeans.

Betty moaned inside the kiss, grabbing his bicep to stop him, Jughead pulling back with concern painted on his disorientated face. “I wanna feel you whole inside me.” She bit her lip timidly, her cheeks turning even rosier and his eyes a tad wider at her breathy request. “I’m on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone before.”

“I have.” Jughead lamely stated, his hushed tone a mix of shame and regret and his eyes softening upon examining her beautifully flustered face, scared that he was disappointing her, scared that he was disappointing his own self by not knowing any better and not waiting for his first time to be with that amazing girl.

“I don’t care about that, Juggie.” Betty offered him a dashing smile, her hand coming up to cup his cheek and wash away all of his doubts and worries. “I just care about being with you and being—” he didn’t let her finish, his turn to vanish all her worries.

“I’m clean, annual checkup and all.” He was quick to inform her. “But still, we can do it with a condom, it’s fine, whatever you want.” He was more quick to assure her again that her being comfortable was a priority.

Betty’s heart melted at his thoughtful and sweet nature. “I want your skin to burn my skin. I want your everything.” She whispered against his lips lovingly, forehead rubbing against forehead and her thumps forming idle circles on his cheekbones.

“Okay.” Jughead breathed in barely a whisper, his eyes close and his senses in hyperactivity.

“Okay.” Betty agreed, letting a trembling sigh as she felt his cock twitch against her warmth, Jughead nesting more comfortably inside her open legs.

“You’re shaking.” her observation was a hushed mumble, her own heart shivering against her ribcage in anticipation and sweet nerves, her green excited eyes boring into his calming sea blue ones. 

“Good shaking.” Betty barely heard his voice breaking, his eyelids fluttering closed as he claimed her lips again, soft and tender, his strong arms wrapping around her waist and his hips pushing forward, until their bodies became one, an overwhelmed gasp filling his mouth and long legs shivering against his sides as his own body shot weightless in the clouds of heaven and the depths of hell.

I'm ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

I'm ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

“Are you okay?” There was concern in his hoarse voice, his forehead dropping heavy and dizzy on hers, Jughead breathing loudly through his nose and never letting go of her eyes as he tried to keep a painfully slow push and pull of his hips to prevent her from any further discomfort. The newfound feel of him buried to the hilt inside her without any barriers was not making his task any easier. Their skin started to grow sweaty and their heavy pants and cries were tangled together as they kept their lips against each other’s and parted but never fully kissing, both of them getting lost at how good he felt pushing and pulling inside of her.

“Yes, yeah…” It was a confirmation and a sigh of pleasure, Betty only experiencing a tiny sweet ache but mostly insatiable desire, a burning need to have him closer, harder, deeper. “Please, faster.” Her mewl was high pitched and desperate, her slender fingers sliding through his raven locks at his scalp and tugging lightly, loving the soft moans and manly breaths he was leaving against the sensitive skin of her lips.

Jughead complied, hands tightening their hold on her hipbones. “Fuck, you feel…” the words dried on his lips as his mouth opened in a silent moan, his pulsing member sinking deeper inside her and hitting a spot that made her let a loud sigh, her ankles coming to close on his waist, holding him captive inside her feminine abyss. “Mmm, Betty, you are burning me alive.” His teeth bit her shoulder, losing his mind and forcing both her wrists over her head in dominance, the action causing her to curse loudly next to his ear and then start sucking on his neck, as their hips kept meeting in fast, curt thrusts.

“Jug…” his name sounded so erotic out of her swollen and bitten lips that he actually had to restrain himself from coming undone right at that second. Her small muscles started spasming, wetness dripping all around him and to the sheets beneath them. “I-I need…” she stuttered with a long moan, throwing her head back and giving him the change to lick a wet trail from the base of her neck to her jaw.

“I know what you need, baby.” He murmured between his labored breaths, his forehead dropping on her chin and his eyes taking a glimpse of how good she was taking him inside of her. “You need to come around my cock.” He accompanied his order with a hard, forceful thrust that had her back arching off the mattress, her walls closing impossibly tight around him and threatening to coax his undoing. “Do it, angel, come.” He used one hand to keep her wrists over her head and the other traveled down her body, forcing her legs more up his back and delivering a loud slap against her ass that had her trashing uncontrollably under him, leaving moans and sighs of pleasure.

“With me.” Betty whispered out of breath, almost in a trance of sexual frenzy, freeing her hands from his hold and curling them tightly around his shoulders. “I need, oh God, please, with me.” She kept begging and begging, her legs shivering violently and her hips following his urgent thrusts, her body stiffening and tensing asking him to get lost inside her.

A hard rub of her clit with the pads of his fingers was all it took for her to disconnect from reality, shot up in the sky and shutter in a million pieces, her legs closing around his ribs and her muscles forming a tight vice around him. Her orgasm came hard and fast, wild moans of his name being repeated like a mantra while riding the high Jughead was offering her, her palm smacking his back in order to hold on to something and her nails clawing down his flexing muscles in erotic despair. Jughead grabbed her hips, as she clenched and quivered around his cock, her legs shaking violently around him and making his own groans increase at the sight of her being in such state because of him and at the painful pleasure her nails and tight muscles were offering him back.

Betty was a vision to behold at the final state of pleasure with blonde tresses a mess, body arching and crimson - the redness interrupted by the occasional light purple of his kisses - eyes painfully shut, rosy full lips open in the most sinful expression of bliss. For the first time in his life Jughead felt his whole body numbing and spiraling out of control, surrendering completely and being reborn, restarting, living. Pinning one of her legs on the mattress by her thigh, opening her more for him in order to continue his trusts, now sloppy and more urgent than before,  Betty’s eyes snapped open at the intense pleasure he continued to give her, making her spasm and shiver through her aftershocks, and she felt him starting to twitch inside her before sighing loudly, his own orgasm being minutes away.  She bit hard on his neck, nails digging in his ass to force him fully inside of her and help him find his release too, and he grunted loudly, his hips thrusting sloppily two or three times before she felt his body go rigid and his chest erupting a moan that went straight to their joined cores. He forced her lips on his with a strong grip on her hair and he pinned her on the mattress, hips slapping against hers in frenzy and bones surely getting bruised at his forceful actions. He came right after her, filling her up and sensing his arousal running down the inside of her trembling thighs, his lips leaving hers and forming an animalistic grunt of her name as the marks of his nails against the irritated skin of her hipbones became deeper.

Her still spasming legs gave up and dropped open against the bed as Jughead fell on top of her, weightless and in a mess of jelly bones, both of them trying to control their breathing, as their lips connected in a slow make out, their tired, sated grins getting swallowed inside the new intensity of their kiss.

“Wow... Is this what I kept missing? Does it always feel that way?”

“No… It takes something more to create that kind of magic.”

I’m ready for your love 

Oh, for your love

“This is not a crocodile!”

“How can you not see it?”

“Well, because it isn’t!”

“Says the girl that only knows how to shape butterflies and weird looking cats.”

“Oh, I’ll eat your stupid crocodile!”

“Not before I eat you first.”

The ferocious attack of her unconventional tabby cat on what he claimed to be a crocodile, along with her playful grunts of attack and silly nom-nom sounds were cut short by the nibbling of his lips against her laughing ones, him pretending to eat her alive with giddy loud groans while drowning her giggling shrieks inside his grinning mouth, their childish behavior lasting barely a blink of a second before they were kissing with the newfound intensity they had acquired earlier that rainy night. Naked and sated bodies tangled up in the dark purple cotton sheets of the round mattress, they were relishing in the afterglow of their first time union wrapped tightly around each other with Jughead’s back perched on a throw pillow and Betty laying horizontally on his lap, one of his long legs bended to support her back and his strong arms curled around her as he cradled her lovingly against his muscular chest. The silver moonlight was the only witness of their surrender to each other and the water droplets trickling down the stained glass of the window their background symphony, in perfect pitch with their soft laughs and hushed words as they watched shadow puppets dancing and kissing and running and flying with the assistance of their hands against the wall opposite them.

I used to do that with my sister, he had told her, heartfelt blue eyes focused on the fearless eagle his long hands were making fly away in utter freedom and loving green ones focused on his handsome profile, her index finger drawing abstract shapes on his abs absentmindedly at her still lightheaded state. When she was young and my parents were fighting or later on when we were just the two of us and she was scared, I’d make up a story for her and bring it to life with shadows on the wall. It always took her mind off things.

Betty had felt the need to ask what about his mind and if it was ever at ease but the words hadn’t been strong enough to escape her mouth, not when he was resting utterly vulnerable and open next to her. Instead, she had brought him down for a kiss, a loving and tender one that gave his eagle more strength and will to fly on his own wings, before she had joined him, adding a cheerful butterfly on the moonlight illuminated white canvas so for his sullen eagle not to be alone.

Equally affectionate was the kiss they were sharing now, with his tongue exploring gently the inside of her bruised and swollen lips as one of her hands was curled at the back of his neck, urging him closer, needing him, his own arms tightening the hold around her bare shoulders and fisting the hem of the sheet against the soft skin of her back.

Pulling back, their lips disconnected but barely an inch of distance separated them. “Betty…” his voice was almost a whisper, still a tad raspier from the kind of high he had never experienced before. “I think I’m falling for you; fast, hard, crazy.” The declaration held something so raw and honest, uttered in a broken tone that shook Betty’s whole being, the soft pads of her fingertips moving up on their own accord to trail feather lightly against his cheekbone, his eyes fluttering close at her touch.

“I think I’m a step ahead of you, Juggie.” She matched the volume of his voice with a small disbelieving smile, a silent agreement between them not to desecrate the moment, Betty feeling her heart thudding violently against her ribcage at his words and the captivating look his sincere baby blues possessed in the darkness.

A beat of silence washed over them and then he said it; the only thing she never expected to come out of his lips.

Forehead upon forehead, blues upon greens, soul upon soul and his baritone voice in the weakest frequency.

“I’m scared.”

Betty pulled back lightly, taken aback by the honest declaration, a frown settling on her pretty face. “Of me?”

“Of the way you make me feel.” He admitted in defeat, feeling smaller in size, lesser, his orbs timidly dropping from her face to the space between them, the sheet the only thing preventing their skin from touching. “Because you make me feel.” He corrected himself quickly, snapping his head back up to look at her, spying on her reaction behind raven locks, disheveled and untamed. “Because when my heart gets involved it never leads to a happy ending. And I don’t know how many more stitches and bandages it can endure.” Her own heart cracked painfully at his confession, the bad guy she was raised to believe he was, transforming into the saddest boy on earth, seeking his own safe place to land.

“What are you afraid of?” Betty gently pushed those ebony waves back, her body snuggling even closer to his in a subtle sign of affection and support, in a subtle sign that she was here, with him and she was more than willing to chase all his demons away.

Jughead sighed, his arms tightening ever so lightly around her delicate frame.

“You remember when I told you that I haven’t seen my mother since I was nine, since the day she left?” He saw her nodding, her attention on him never fazing, and he took a deep breath to continue. “That was not true.” He admitted in a small, defeated voice, her genuine confused frown contradicting his stoic and troubled expression, the young Serpent licking his lips to try to find the words, to try and slow down the chaotic corridors of his brain.

“Two years ago, when my dad was still in too deep with alcohol and his refusal to acknowledge us, I was angry and frustrated and desperate so I tracked her down. I wanted an answer, not just a figure disappearing like a thief into the night; I deserved that much.” His voice raised an octave, its tone vibrating into the silence of the room in a firmer and upset manor, Jughead shaking his head momentarily and letting a small cooing sigh to control his growing anger. It worked; his soft, calm voice adorned the rest of his words. “I don’t know what I was hoping for, maybe nothing, maybe everything. So I got on my bike and drove four hours to the city, where some Serpents had told me they had located her. I don’t even remember how many hours I was just out there, staring at the nice house that my mom was now living and feeling like I was intruding, like I, her first son, didn’t have the right to be there.”

Betty could see the pain in his now icy eyes, the agony and desperation behind his words, her fingers caressing lovingly the hard planes of his chest, taking great care of the place that his heart laid underneath, broken and beating fast.

“And at some point the door opened and a man came out, holding a bubbly little boy no more than five, before my mother appeared right after them with that dashing smile of hers that still haunts the very few joyful memories of my childhood.” His face had turned cold at this point, a mask of disappointment and pain hardening his handsome features. “She took the boy’s other hand and the three of them disappeared down the street in a chorus of happy laughter and family chat, not even noticing me, not even sparing me a single glance.” He laughed with no humor at all, bitter and defeated, eyes focused on the wall that his hand shadow of an eagle was flying fearlessly some minutes ago, his stare hard if it wasn’t for the thin layer of salty water that was softening the dark color of his irises. “She called him my little Icarus and that was always her nickname for me.”

His voice broke, a tight knot suffocating his already dry throat and this time Betty’s heart not only cracked but shuttered into a million tiny pieces at the image of him getting betrayed by the only person he needed most, at the image of him now beating himself up and carrying around some self-inflicted guilt and notion that he wasn’t worthy of anything. In Betty’s books, he deserved the world and she vowed to keep telling him that until her voice was stronger than the one of that heartless woman inside his head.

Jughead sniffed lightly, snapping out of his nightmarish reverie and dropping his head to the floor in shame, giving it a shake to put an end at his moment of weakness before sending her a side glance and a forced smile.

“It stupid really” he let a faint chuckle, wanting to ease the worry and frustration and sadness that were painted on her face before turning serious again “but she always used to say that the story of Icarus fitted me; the sense of freedom, the drive and ambition, the will to escape. Later on, I understood that it did fitted me but not for the reasons she gave me that nickname. It is the melted wings and the burning torture and the drowning that resemble the story of my life.”

Betty knew all about the Greek myth and the boy that felt exhilarated and careless upon flying with his wax and feathers made wings, getting mesmerized by the sun and moving closer and closer towards its golden light, only for his wings to melt and him to end up drowning tragically in the ocean beneath him. Icarus didn’t have anyone to save him but Jughead had her, pulling him out of his own personal sea of loneliness after years of suffocation.

“That’s not true.” The golden haired girl exclaimed passionately, cradling his cheeks in her palms and forcing him to look at her, a heartbreaking pout on his face. “You have eagle wings, Jughead Jones, and you have me. If you’re drowning, I’m drowning with you.” She promised him, fiercely, honest and clear, her thump caressing the corner of his curled downwards lips.

Resting his forehead on hers with a grateful sigh, he breathed tired and hopeless. “I don’t wanna drown. I’m tired of drowning.” He knew she was his own personal sun; and he feared that maybe getting too close would result to his ultimate destruction.

Betty could feel moisture gathering in her own eyes that stayed soft and connected with his. “Then I’ll help you fly.” She whimpered with a small tender smile, prompting him to smile back with an affectionate rub of her forehead against his.

Jughead offered her a boyish lopsided grin, the burden on his chest lessening a tiny bit at her promise, warm sunrays embracing the winter of his soul, not burning deadly, just offering him a contentment he was never before fortunate to have.  

“I only ask that you be gentle with this.” He brought her hand on his chest, laying her palm flat against his erratically beating heart and lacing their fingers together, pleading her with his lovely eyes to be the exception in his world of disappointment.

Betty took his other hand to do the same against her own fragile heart, his bony fingers resting against the swell of her breast, the sheet now barely covering the sensitive pink flesh of their peaks. “Only if you promise to do the same.” She snuggled even closer to him, her voice coming out as a breathy gasp, vulnerable at the words exchanged and already hyperaware of his touch against her skin.

The promise was sealed with a kiss, loving, tender, slow, bone aching and earth-shuttering.

“Will you stay with me?” Jughead’s breathless murmur was delivered against her wet lips, his innocent hand on her chest fisting the dark purple sheet and, tantalizingly slow, pulling it down to reveal her glorious breasts to him.

“Yes. I will.” Betty half-gasped, his hand already on a mission of sweet assault on her sore, bruised flesh before their lips met with passion and inevitable magnet-like attraction.

He didn’t mean only for tonight.

And she agreed because she had forever in mind too.

Under the flickering lamppost across the road, a dark silhouette spoke hushed and collusively to the receiver of their late night phone call.  

“It’s me… I’m on the Southside. They are together.”