jonesandcoops

[jonesandcoops]

a paperlesscrown fic

Inspired by the music video for Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello’s “Señorita”.

Summary: Hidden in Miami as a waitress under witness protection, Betty is startled to see a familiar face on Table 8 - a face she’s not supposed to see.

But the draw of Jughead Jones is too powerful. And her longing will prove to be too much to resist.

Tonight, the risk is worth it. Tonight, she longs to live.

…

What were they risking?

Everything, she thought with a panic.

But as his lips hovered just within reach, as she decided that she couldn’t hold off any longer - that it would be her who would crash forward and capture his mouth in her own - she wondered what she would give. For this. For just one night of this.

And she kissed him, and in between the escalating intensity of their kiss and the way he swiftly hoisted her up around his waist, she figured it out.

Everything. Everything.

…

Thank you to the amazing @jandjsalmon and @melimelrockswell1204 for beta-ing and cheering me on!

read now on Ao3

[jonesandcoops]

this is still my absolute favorite bughead video and i highly recommend you watch it 

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fortitude - chapter two 

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thinking of a place

Betty can feel her breath high and tight in her chest, pulse thrumming quick in her wrist with a dizzying sort of anticipation. She watches from backstage as the band tunes up their instruments- Fangs and Sweet Pea tossing guitar picks at one another and talking shit, Toni swigging from a bottle of whiskey. There’s something building in the anxious stirring of the audience, like thunder from a distant storm, and Betty has her pencil pressed to her notepad hard enough to leave an indent, ready to scribble frantic notes.

The music starts like the first crack of lightning, like a giant turning in its sleep, and the blistering throb of it knocks the air clean out of Betty’s lungs, shock running through her fingers.

Slow nights so long howls Sweet Pea into the microphone, his teeth flashing sharp and white under the sticky pink neon and smoke, microphone curled in one hand in drink in the other, close up to his face. But it’s the drummer Betty watches, tapping the pedal constantly like an unerring heartbeat.

“I told you they were something else,” says a cool, amused voice in her ear, and Betty startles out of her reverie, glances over to where Veronica has appeared next to her. She exhales a lungful of smoke, smiles her Cheshire Cat grin, the one that promises something illicit.

“That’s one way to put it,” she agrees absently, gaze still fixed on the boy, the one with the dark hair and the white t-shirt, body curled over the drum kit like the audience isn’t even there. He glances suddenly up and catches her stare, meets her eyes like tipping the barrel of a gun.

Betty swallows hard and he winks at her, dark eyed and sly, never missing a beat as the band slashes through the final, brutal chords of the song. She can taste ozone between her teeth. Something wicked this way comes she thinks to herself, and it’s a promise.

coming soon to an ao3 near you!

[jonesandcoops]

wait for you

“You’re pathetic, man,” Archie tells him with a laugh.

Jughead shrugs as he looks at his phone for the tenth time since they sat down to play some video games. “You saw her, Arch. Don’t act like you wouldn’t trip over your own feet to get a date with her.”

“She’s hot, yeah, but you’re moping around, waiting-”

“Not moping. Decidedly un-moping. Pining, if you will. Wandering the moors waiting for my love to come back to me like-”

“Jug,” Archie interrupts, “no more references you know I don’t understand or I’ll kick you out of the room again.”

Big thanks to @indiebughead and @jandjsalmon for helping me along with this whole thing that took way too long

[jonesandcoops]

I just read Strange Love, chapter two, by the wonderful @honestlyhappymoon and I’m very smitten with it! I just had to make this mood board to tide me over to chapter three.

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Thank you so much @kittileepdx for the amazing graphic and the beta-ing! 

An excerpt from part III

It’s warm in the house when she wakes. She can see the dust motes illuminated beautifully by the light. Usually they wake before dawn to make the most out of the growing season. Still it seems wrong to rush outdoors today.

Jughead’s arm is wrapped around her, one hand is gently resting on her breast. She feels close to him, as if they are somehow sharing the same body, even the slow rhythm of their breathing matches. She suspects he is still asleep.

Into her thoughts drifts Emily’s lines on sleep, Sleep is the station grand/ Down which, on either hand/ The hosts of witness stand!/ Morn is supposed to be/ By people of degree/ The breaking of the Day.

Betty could wake Jughead easily, just by shifting slightly he would rouse, but she wants to enjoy this moment between them. They waited so long on the precipice that it seems strange to have been with each other fully.

Betty thinks to herself of the many euphemisms for what they did last night and most of them seem unfitting.

Making love is an ongoing process not an end result. Fucking just sounds angry. Being together biblically is too grandiose. Just calling it sex is reductive.

Her sleepy mind finally settles on the phrase, becoming one, a euphemism she understands with every breath, every cell and atom. She feels for the first time in her life, wholly satisfied, even as she aches.

Jughead shifts slightly and she feels his warm breath against the back of her neck. This is home.

A worry stirs suddenly in her stomach, that already they have managed to create a child, growing in her like a seed in early spring, unfelt and unseen.

Instead of letting that worry wake her fully Betty takes a deep breath, and peace comes dropping slow, dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.

Continue Reading Part III

Start from the beginning

[jonesandcoops]

fortitude - chapter one

He has everything he could ever want; she lost everything she ever loved.

But sometimes the thing you want, the thing that can save you, is something you never even knew existed.

[jonesandcoops]

friendly reminder to not sleep on the devil’s daughter, the ultimate dark canon divergence of my dreams. new chapter went up last night and I’ve been a mess about it since I got the first draft to beta. go go go go!

[jonesandcoops]

CHAPTER 1: 72 Hours

Rating: Mature

Tags: Heavily Gothic Lit Inspired, Gothic, Very Edgar Allen Poe and Turn of the Screw, Lord Archie, Attendant Jughead, Murder, Murder Mystery, Secrets Lies and Deception, 1850s, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Period Typical Nonesense, Secret Relationship, Class Differences, Hal Cooper is Very Dead

Authors Note: Thank you to @arsenicpanda for so quickly jumping on this with excitement and offering to beta as well as making me a gif. You’re so amazing and I’m so grateful that you agreed to take this one. Your enthusiasm for it is just making me so excited to write it.

Summary: 

When Betty had ridden him until neither of them could think to breath without difficulty she turned to him with the cold gaze of Elizabeth and asked, “My love, would you follow me into the flames of Hades if I asked you to?”

He had answered without second thought. “I would without question.”

“So loyal you are. A loyalty I am not sure I have earned. I wonder if we will have to test the strength of that promise one day.”

-or-

There are 72 hours until the the police come to Elm House and drag Miss Elizabeth Cooper to hang for the crime of patricide. Just three days for her closest friends to prove she had no hand in his untimely demise, but with very little to go on and halls that dare to seem haunted, hope is not in high supply.

READ ME HERE ON AO3

[jonesandcoops]

Sincerely, fuck each and every single one of these pieces of scum.

Lili via ig stories (15/05/2019)

[jonesandcoops]

22 (spy) for the prompts! <3

Spies AU (from a fic idea I’ve always wanted to write but don’t know if I ever will)

“I don’t want to hear it, Agent Jones. This is your assignment and I expect you to follow orders as they’ve been given to you,” General Tate’s voice echoes over the speakers, deep and warm despite the firmness of his tone. Jughead can feel his features rearranging themselves into a slightly less-severe version of the scowl he is wearing as he resists the urge to scuff his shoe against the floor like a chastised child. He can feel the General’s eyes boring into his forehead from the screen, looking down as he is to hide the hurt he knows will be floating to the surface. Hurt that his superior will see straight away.

General Terrance Tate, codename ‘Pop’, had (very fittingly) been something of a paternal figure for Jughead ever since he’d been recruited by the CIA at only seventeen. Well, he supposes that the General that arrested your ganglord father and saved you from a path you were looking for a way off anyway is better than no one. And while he hadn’t exactly been entirely warm to the idea of working for the government at the time, even he has to admit that this job—this life—has saved him in more ways than can be counted. Not the least of which is the man currently shaking his head on screen despairingly.

“Look, son…” Pop begins, steepling his fingers on top of his desk. “I know it’s a little close to home—”

Wrong, Jughead wants to interrupt. It is home. It is almost exactly home. Although, if he were being honest, nothing about it ever felt particularly homey during his youth. Nevertheless, there was something close to sentiment attached to that place that no amount of training could ever get him to shake. But even that still didn’t change the fact that out of all the impossible situations he’d been placed in as an agent, this was the first time he’d wanted to flat out refuse orders.

“—but there’s no denying you’re the best man for the job. You’re familiar with the area, you know the people there.”

“Exactly! I know them, and they know me. The risk of being comprised for this mission surely outweighs the knowledge that I could easily pass onto another agent in a single afternoon,” Jughead half-pleads. He can hear how desperate he sounds, losing his cool in front of his superior and making himself sound like an idiot. He can hear it, but that doesn’t stop him.

“Nevertheless, the higher-ups believe it to be an asset and have chosen you. Therefore, it is you who will be on the plane to Riverdale by six o’clock this evening.” Pop has switched to his official, General voice, and Jughead knows anymore arguing is a lost cause. He has too much respect for the man before him—almost to his detriment.

“Yes, General,” he replies robotically, looking past Pop’s eyes into the pixels of the screen instead.

Pop sighs, a weary exhale, but continues on. “Your partner will meet you once you land at JFK and she’ll give you your brief then.”

That startles him out of his sulk. “Partner?”

“You didn’t think you’d be going in alone, did you? There’s evidence that the Fizzle Rocks supplier for the entire eastern half of the country is operating out of Riverdale. We’d hardly be likely to send you in by yourself.” Jughead feels his face heat. “No, you’ll be working together, and acting as each other’s cover while you’re in town.”

A distant beep sounds from Pop’s end of the line. “That’ll be all.” He pauses, dark eyes searching. “Good luck, Jughead.”

.

.

.

Jughead stumbles through arrivals with the kind of brain fog unique to being on a long flight. Bleary eyes search the gate for any sign of his greeter.

It doesn’t take long to spot JONES, written in neat, bold, block letters, but when he does all remnants of sleep clear immediately.

His eyes follow the hands clutching the poster board, along the arms clad in a powder blue sweater, up towards a prominent chin, appled cheeks, a slick blonde ponytail and— “Betty?”

Time turns itself back a decade in the space of ten seconds. Green eyes blink, once, twice. “Jughead.” Ten years since he’d last heard his name in that voice. “It’s good to see you.” His stomach flips and he’s seventeen again.

Betty Cooper looks exactly as she used to—exactly as she does, in every memory Jughead’s kept of her. Of which there are many. Her hair is a golden blonde, secured tightly in a prim ponytail. Her lips are full, her body slender. She’s wearing a sweater and jeans he could’ve sworn she owned in high school, and her shoulders are pulled back in the way he used to see her do whenever she was approaching a situation with full force. He’s not sure whether the fact that he now appears to be the situation should make him laugh or frown.

The only difference, that Jughead can see, is the smile she’s giving him in greeting. Where once before there was the easy warmth that came with a whole youth of friendship there’s now the guarded, sterile quirk of the mouth that eerily reminds him of Betty’s mother.

With that final thought he’s catapulted back to the present, something cold and uncomfortable in his stomach, and the reminder that a lot has changed since he was seventeen.

“Yeah, you too,” he manages to get out finally, a little crease between her brows alerting him to the fact he’s been quiet too long. “Are you…” He’s not quite sure if coming straight out and asking your old high school crush if she’s a secret agent in the middle of a busy airport follows protocol but, in fairness, the CIA never equipped him for this situation. Jughead swallows thickly. “Are you, um—”

“Your ride?” Betty finishes for him, something else hidden in the look she sends him. “Yes. Follow me.” With that she reaches for the handle of his suitcase and pulls it behind her as she heads for the exit, leaving Jughead to trail dazedly behind.

Keep reading

[jonesandcoops]

EXCUSE ME MISS GAGA!!!!!!!!

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BITCH ITS A FUCKING LOOOOOOOOOK!!!! DID HE HAVE TO GO THIS HARD GOD DAMN JUST FUCKING STEP ON ME WHY DONT YOU!!!!

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Apocalypto

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THATS MY MUTHAFUCKIN DAUGHTER BITCH!!!!!!!

ARYA MOTHER FUCKING STARK

THE 👏 PRINCESS 👏 THAT👏 WAS 👏 PROMISED 👏

[jonesandcoops]

Game of thrones 8x04 spoiler out of context:

[jonesandcoops]

Went out. Got fucked up. Am slightly apprehensive to go to bed in case I wake up with a hangover...