Thank you for your lovely comments, darlings!!! I hope you like what I did with your prompts!! Enjoy!!! <3
Warning: Hot make-outs, smutty mentions, cute Bughead galore and just me fawning over the bae that is Cole Sprouse.
“We have to go.” Kiss
“Hmm, in a second.” Kiss
“One day – kiss –
we’ll get caught – kiss – and they’ll
definitely expel us.” HardKiss.
“Oh, I’d love to see you, Betty Cooper – kiss – getting expelled over a steamy
make out.” Bite.
Betty just let a breathless laugh, alternating the
angle of her head and dropped her arms to his shoulders, crossing them by the
wrists behind his head. Jughead’s smile grew more in delight against her lips
and he dove in again, pecking her lips hard. They were in one of the dusty
storage rooms of their high school, the smallest one and the one with no
windows, exploring this new-found feeling of being in love and being a couple,
mist old broken chairs and random school supplies. Betty was perched up on an
unused desk that lay against the wall, dressed for her cheerleading practice in
her usual white and yellow t-shirt and dark blue shorts, while her boyfriend
was standing deliciously between her gorgeous legs, school bag, denim jacket
and beanie abandoned somewhere on the floor, kissing her like there was no
tomorrow for God knows how long now.
That was basically they daily routine. Ever since the
two of them overcame their irrational fears of rejection and possible
heartbreak and talked with each other about that kiss that held all of
Jughead’s suppressed emotions all those years, they couldn’t overlook their
mutual feeling of desiring to be together. Three weeks had passed since that
day and, despite of the new challenges they were faced with every day,
regarding their unconventional families and the amorality that seemed to emerge
every once in a while of the core of their small town, the two teens were basking
in the afterglow of their romance with affectionate gestures and heated make
outs. The only cloud shading their Romeo and Juliet fairytale was that
everything was being done in shadows, like a good, concealed secret.
They wanted to tell people; and they would do it. They
weren’t afraid or ashamed, both emotions equally unfair to the
wonderful union that it was them. They just wanted to do it in their own terms,
without excited friends or controlling parents getting in their way, without having
to explain themselves or put labels and boundaries in something that came and
kept growing natural to them. So, janitor’s closets and storage rooms it was.
I wrote this at 1am last night (while I was sleep deprived and couldn’t sleep) and then saved this in my drafts, so let that be both an explanation and an apology for this Mess™
It’s the sound of voices that draws Andrew into wakefulness. They creep into his mind like vines and coax him away from the bliss of sleep. The temptation to shake them is a hard fought but losing battle. His head still feels hazy and fogged over, but it’s easy enough to place the owners of the hushed tones.
“You wake them up.”
“No way. You wake them up.”
There’s a pause.
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
Andrew opens his eyes just in time to see Matt hit his rock over Nicky’s scissors. Matt shoves his fist in the air in a silent victory cheer while Nicky lets out a quiet curse. He turns back towards the seat with dejected shoulders, his face a mix of fear and dread, but when he makes eye contact with Andrew, it quickly morphs into relief.
“Oh, thank god. I really didn’t want to losing a limb.”
“We’re at a rest stop,” Matt says when he also notices Andrew is awake. “Coach says we’re still a few hours out from PSU though.”
“It’ll be morning by the time we make it back,” Nicky chimes in.
Andrew doesn’t say anything, but neither Nicky or Matt look interested in garnering a response. Their apparent job done, both backliners turn on their heels and head back up towards the front of the bus.
“Was’goingon?” Neil mumbles from Andrew’s right.
Neil has his legs pulled up onto the seat, his body curled up but slumped against Andrew. His head is tucked up against Andrew’s shoulder, and his fingers are still loosely intertwined with Andrew’s own. Andrew turns his head to look down at the striker.
Neil shifts, his body folding up even more towards Andrew and his cheek scraping along Andrew’s shoulder. He lets out a breath and closes his eyes again. The air around them is quiet with all the Foxes off the bus, and Andrew watches the way the streetlamps bleeding in through the windows fall across the crisscross scars of Neil’s cheek, the way the light weaves with the smattering of freckles there.
Neil’s eyes peel back open after a minute, and they narrow curiously as he watches Andrew. Andrew quirks an eyebrow in a silent question of his own.
“I just figured you’d have shoved me to the floor by now,” Neil says.
“I take pride in being unpredictable.”
Neil hums in response and another moment passes in silence.
“Wait. Are we stopped?”
“Rest stop,” Andrew explains.
“Oh,” Neil says, sitting up fully and rubbing at his eyes. “I should probably get some coffee then. Did you want one?” He doesn’t even give Andrew a chance to answer, already nodding. “I’ll get you one.”
Neil uses the seat in front of them to pull himself up, taking a moment to stretch out his cramped limbs. He scrubs a hand down his face and drags his feet up the aisle. Andrew follows him off the bus, digging his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket as they head down the stairs. Neil veers off to the rest stop building for coffee, and Andrew lights his cigarette, eyes sweeping across the few Foxes stretching their legs in the parking lot. He spots Nicky speaking to some freshman he can’t be bothered to learn the name of and heads over to the two.
Once Andrew is standing in front of them, he holds his hand out towards his cousin. Nicky glances down at Andrew’s empty palm before dancing back to his face.
“What?” Nicky asks, feigning an innocence no one believes.
Andrew doesn’t say anything, just keeps his arm outstretched and quirks an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a cute picture, okay!”
Andrew is considering prying away the phone clutched to Nicky’s chest when Neil returns. The striker presses a cup of coffee into Andrew’s outstretched hand, but Andrew merely takes a sip before switching it to his other and re-extending his hand. This time, Nicky’s eyes dart between the hand and Andrew’s unimpressed expression before he turns on Neil with a pleading look.
“Neil. My favorite person. Please tell your boyfriend not to murder me.”
“Well,” Neil says, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Do you deserve it?”
“Is there a reason for this particular banquet?” Tony asked, adjusting the necklace he wore every day so it lay better against his shirt. “It seems like you people do an awful lot of feasting.”
“And whatever could you mean by ‘you people’?” Thor teased, coming up behind Tony to help. “This color is lovely on you, Anthony.”
“Yes well, your servants seem to think you and I need to match at all times.” Tony rolled his eyes. “But we do look good all decked out in red, don’t we?”
“You shine brighter than I, my love.” Thor turned him from the mirror and brushed gentle fingers through Tony’s hair. It was getting longer and starting to curl and it made him look soft and young and Thor adored it. “Red might be my favorite color on you.”
“I thought blue was your favorite color.” Tony teased, and stood on his toes for a kiss.
“I rather believe nude is my favorite color on you.” Thor murmured into his lips and Tony laughed.
“I believe you.”
Thor sighed, more of a growl than anything, and lifted Tony into his arms before turning towards the bed, pushing the covers down to lay Tony out across the soft sheets.
“I thought we had a banquet to go to.” Tony protested half heartedly, feeling the electricity between them already rising to the surface, and when he ran his hand down Thor’s chest, sparks jumped between them. “Do we have time to–”
levi’s hunched over his computer typing furiously, fills the room with loud tapping of keys, each one falling into a beat. one, two, three clicks–pause. four, five, six… delete delete delete. one, two, five. he grunts and sighs out long from his nose, draws his hand down his face, and shakes his head.
“what is it?” erwin says softly from the couch. he’s lounged back in his seat, a book in hand, reading glasses low on his nose.
“it must be something.”
“nothing.” levi hisses over his shoulder, hunches over his computer more and presses the keys more quietly.
“hey, levi. please, tell me.”
“some asshole…” levi shakes his head. “nevermind. fuck.”
erwin shuts his book and sets it next to him. he stretches in his seat before standing up and coming up behind levi’s chair. he places gentle hands on his shoulders and rubs circles into his muscles with thumbs. he reads the message out loud: “’delete your account. you’re gross.’” erwin chuckles. “what the hell did you do this time?”
“why is it my fault!?”
“when is it not?”
“just because they were being a bunch of whiney cunts online doesn’t mean i have to stand around and take it!”
“it’s just the internet, darling.”
levi’s fingers curl into his palms and his fingers dance across the keyboard again. “even more of a reason to destroy them.”
erwin pats a hand on his shoulder and heads to the kitchen. “you go get ‘im, tiger.”
“i am getting a snack, would you like anything?”
“the blood of the innocent… and a popsicle.”
erwin hides a smile behind his hand and nods. “coming right up.”
The boy barked right in his face and Otabek watched him with furious eyes, clenching his fingers into a fist, shaking.
He didn’t exactly understand the meaning of the word - dead, he was only four, but when it was getting thrown at you in the middle of a fight, like some stone, then it definitely wasn’t going to be something good.
Before Otabek could get his senses back and act on his instincts, he was dragged away from the bullying boy by his class teacher. As teacher Lilia soothed him with calm words and then warned him in a firm tone, Otabek could only stare at the tan skin of his wrist, unconsciously rubbing a thumb against his pathetically blank wrist.
When your soulmate’s first words to you were supposed to be tattooed on your wrist, a blank wrist was quite intriguing and an open invitation to be teased.
Otabek’s wrist was missing a soulband.
Every single person in his acquaintance had a soulband, God, even JJ had a soulband, then why not him? Otabek wondered.
Otabek’s mom tried to convince him by suggesting a few possibilities. One of them sounded quite convincing - maybe, his soulmate was yet to be born.
When Otabek didn’t budge, his mother tried diverting his mind with some poetic stories about how our loved ones would turn into stars after life, always shining in the sky, always readily available when you missed them the most.
It was a lie. He understood two years later when his grandma passed away and he couldn’t find solace in the midst of the gloomy, dark sky. He’d cried his eyes out for three days straight. He missed his grandma. He missed his non existent soulmate even more.
When he turned fourteen and still didn’t have the soulband, the ‘soulmate was yet to be born’ option was almost completely ruled out. He was sure he wasn’t going to meet his soulmate. Ever.
As the years passed he witnessed Mila chewing his ear off, screaming about meeting her soulmate in summer camp. He watched with amused eyes while his baby sister recognized her soulmate when his friend Phichit addressed her - “Hello Tia” instead of Mia.
The elders of the family always shared funny, mesmerizing stories about meeting their other halves. Of course, Otabek liked listening to those, even when he’d heard them before. He was happy for every single person around him, but sometimes he felt lonely…and hollow, as if he was missing his soul and not just some stupid mark of his wrist.
He met Yuuri Katsuki when he turned eighteen.
Yuuri was the sweetest person he’d ever come across. He had the heart of a cupcake and the charm of a fox. And most importantly, his wrist was blank.
They both immediately clicked over their non-soulband bond. It was Yuuri who showed him the other side of life, the not so pathetic side.
“Everyone can’t have a dreamy romance, Otabek,” he had said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop dreaming.”
Over a year Otabek watched him silently blush at the slightest mention of Viktor’s name, who apparently shared a soul bond with Christophe.
Otabek’s heart twisted in his chest for his best friend. But the smile on Yuuri’s face never faded. He was perfectly okay having Viktor as just-a-friend. He was glad having him in his life in some way, Otabek knew that.
Then one day he heard the news about Christophe moving to Switzerland, leaving permanently, never to return.
Otabek couldn’t make up his mind whether to feel happy for Yuuri or to feel bad for Viktor.
Otabek watched Viktor sulking over his soulmate’s absence for years and for the first time, Otabek felt lucky for having a blank wrist. He’d rather that than looking at a soulband everyday, every single minute and breaking piece by piece over what he could never have. It was Yuuri who helped the silver haired man to heal his shattered heart.
Otabek was the happiest person when, finally, Viktor asked him on a date, even happier than Yuuri was. Otabek felt as if something might have mended in his own heart.