#bughead ficlet

[winterlovesong1]

For @bugheadalwaysandforever who asked for a One Tree Hill esq Bughead AU -

Send in a ship + AU and I’ll write a little snippet

-/-

They’d been in grade school together, but not necessarily grown up together. Yet, she was aware of random details about him despite being an audience member to his life - details ranging from his favorite food is any meat sandwiched between two slices of bread to the situation with his dad. Or lack there of.

But it wasn’t until she got stuck at school, her mom flaking on pick up after cheer practice and too late to catch the bus that she spent any real time together - post sandbox era.

“You need a ride?” He says sitting idle on the front seat of a used black leather bike with the initials FJ etched into the side panel.

“You offering or just mocking me standing here?” Leaning into her token trait of sarcasm as he pulled further along the curb, placing her hand at her skirted hip of her cheer uniform.

“Hop on,” motioning to the backseat, zipping open the attached satchel to offer her a second helmet.

She sighs and snatches the helmet from his left hand, straddling the warm leather seat before she hears,”hold on tight.”

Quick to wrap her arms around his waist, the tires skid across the school parking lot as she screams in his ear the start of directions, “It’s a block…”

“I know where I’m going,” he yells above the motorcycle engine.

She stays silent for the duration of the ride, gripping onto his middle and thinking more about safety than how even at the speed they were going, she could smell his chosen musk cologne mixed with the grease from the bike.

She lets herself drift off into the moment, into his scent, until he pulls up to the drive of her house with a confidence she finds alluring.

Shaking off the feeling, she makes her way up the sidewalk before she hears at her back…

“People don’t always leave.”

Turning over her shoulder she asks, “What?” Though she did catch what he said it was more a why.

“People don’t always leave you know. Some people stick around.”

“How would you know anything about that?”

The ethereal time of growing up shadowing her question, the looming issue with his dad hanging heavy in the air along with the idea that her mom bailed on her resting between them now just as it did when he pulled up to curb at school.

“You just seem like the kind of girl people wouldn’t choose to leave so easily.”

And then he starts the ignition again on his bike and says above the roar of the engine, “I’ll be seeing you.”

She shouts back down the drive, “See you around…Jug.”

[thepointoftheneedle]

A Little Ficlet

I have this head canon that Bughead's first child is born at Christmas. No idea where it comes from but I wrote it that way here and the thought has stayed with me. So under the cut is a Bughead baby ficlet as you begin to get in the festive spirit.

Jug had been thinking about St Joseph a lot. Which— weird but, okay. He wasn’t religious, not really. He liked the stories, the imagery, a dove with an olive branch, a baby rescued from bullrushes, three travellers following a star. He enjoyed some of the Psalms, The Song of Songs too. Mainly though it seemed to him that religion was just a way for old white guys to control people, mostly women. He supposed that Marx was right, religion kept the poor docile, holding out for heaven instead of taking what properly should be theirs right now.

But it was getting toward Christmas and the tree lights and the saccharine muzak in stores and the ads everywhere had turned his thoughts to the story of the first Christmas. He’d been thinking about how it must have been for that guy, loving his woman, knowing she was special in ways he would never really grasp, feeling responsible for protecting her and the child she carried. He understood how that felt.

He was so terrified every day. He thought it must have been like that for St Joe. When she struggled to stand from the couch, he jumped to his feet to help her, an arm at her back to protect her poor spine. When she reached up to get a book from a high shelf he was beside her instantly, a sixth sense alerting him no matter where he had been in the house, forbidding her from even considering stepping onto a chair to reach higher. When she pushed away her breakfast bowl with a wrinkle of her nose he ran to open the refrigerator, offering pancakes, bacon, pickles, anything. “Shall I run to the store real quick?” he’d ask. “What about lemon? Do you want me to slice a lemon for you?” She’d laugh and shake her head and try to take another spoonful of cereal just to placate him.

Her back hurt all the time. She didn’t complain but he could see her wince and rub the sore place above her hip. The baby was getting heavy, a burden. He felt the weight too but he carried his burden in his heart not his belly. He felt weighed down by it in a way he hadn’t ever felt before. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t a bad feeling. It was as if he had always been floating, untethered, too light to settle. The weight of this baby was holding him in one place, giving him time to focus, he could build here, he could settle peacefully at last. It was a good burden, worth carrying. He tried to explain to her how he felt and she laughed because she felt just the same. “I have something precious and precious things are heavy,” she said, “heavy like gold.”

“I want to keep you safe,” he murmured against her neck, “I don’t want you to be in pain. I don’t know how I can stand that.”

“Too late now, stud,” she laughed. “This genie is coming out of the bottle, and soon too. You’re just going to have to suck it up and feed me ice chips and let me scream at you for knocking me up. That’s what it means to be someone’s daddy.”

In the delivery room on Christmas Eve, when Betts began to pant and yell, her eyes rolling with the waves of pain, he prayed to St Joseph, one father to another, memorising the words from a card he had picked up in the hospital chapel, “O most watchful guardian of the Holy Family, defend the chosen children of Jesus Christ.” He said it over and over again like a mantra, under his breath while her fingernails dug into his hand, while he held the cup of ice chips to her lips and then, at last, while he cradled his newborn son in his arms. That was when he really knew the wonder and awe that St Joseph must have felt.

[coledemort]

Jughead *to Betty*: Would you like to stay for dinner. FP Jones* from the distance* WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER.

AO3 link here

Jughead wakes with a vague numbness on the left side of his neck. He sits up straight, groaning quietly as he feels the rush of blood flow to his left arm, needle-prick sensation peppering the entirety of the said limb. Apparently, he had fallen asleep without his knowledge. The sound of multiple plastics clanking to the linoleum floor catches his attention as he shifts from his position.

Button pins, he thinks.

He furrows his eyebrows for a split-second, orienting himself to the time of the day, and wondering what he’s doing slumped on his coffee table. Then he catches up with time. He had been counting the number of button pins that he and Betty were supposed to give out for the upcoming school elections before he fell asleep. He was assigned to making a total inventory of the button pins, posters, and other paraphernalia; and Betty was supposed to be writing their platforms and general mission and vision for the next school year.

He looks around the cramped space that’s supposed to be their trailer’s living room, and Betty is nowhere to be found. He hears movements from inside their bathroom, and a second later, Betty emerges from the door, looking fresh and beautiful.

“You looked peaceful in your sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.” Betty says, a smile forming on her lips. The afternoon light filtering through the blinds gives her features a golden glow, making her look like a mirage. Jughead feels something swell somewhere inside his chest, and he finds himself more enamored with Betty Cooper.

He still can’t believe that this otherworldly perfection chose a lowlife like him, and he feels every bit undeserving of her love.

He can’t believe he had dragged her into another mess in his life.

It was a spur of the moment decision, an absurd thought—but Jughead felt a compelling desire to take matters into his own hands as he watched their little town get destroyed slowly, insidiously. The changes happen in a way that nobody suspects that something is amiss, until one day the town wakes up and does not recognize itself anymore.

That’s why in a moment of high stress and exhaustion, after spending a good 72 hours outside the now closed Southside High, he'd blurted the unlikeliest idea to Betty, certain the minute that the thought came to him, that it’s a far-fetched dream, but still he had to try anyway. He'd asked Betty to run alongside him in the school elections. He'd been ready to accept her refusal when she so easily agreed, and he'd found himself buzzing with glee as he stared directly into her eyes, and found steely resolve, so strong that Jughead instantly felt confident about what he'd been about to do.

Betty had then asked to stay with him in the trailer because she can no longer stand the presence of his brother hovering her in her own house. So, in the days that had followed, he and Betty had lived in their transitory domestic bliss, causing possible nervous discomfort on the side of his father. But if FP had any protest about Betty living in their home, he didn’t make a show of it. On the contrary, his father had appeared to be enjoying Betty’s presence in the little space they call home.

Jughead had been sure that FP had noticed the huge difference in the air that swirled over the household. Betty Cooper had singlehandedly turned the entire trailer upside down that it’s no longer recognizable as the rusty rundown trailer he used to call home. However, just when they were beginning to get used to the new arrangements and routine they’ve made around the house, Alice Cooper, being Alice Cooper had managed to threaten her way into getting Betty back to their enormous and shiny Cooper house.

It’s been a few days since Betty had moved back to their house (sans Chic), but Jughead still feels himself ache for her presence in the trailer. He doesn’t know how he survived all those years living without her, now that he knows what it feels like to wake up every morning next to her—her scent easing his tension even before he opens his eyes for the new day.

“Juggie?” Betty asks, a curious look set on her profile, as she ducks her head, eyes searching across his face.

“What?”

“I said, are you okay?”

Jughead feels a rush of affection inundate his heart, and he gathers her to his chest, enveloping her in an embrace.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just miss you.” He whispers in her ear, inhaling her familiar scent.

“What? I am right here, Juggie,” Betty says on a laugh, as she extricates herself from his arms.

But there's a little glimmer in her eyes, and Jughead knows that she understands what he'd just meant.

He ducks his head and watches her eyes flutter and close—clearly awaiting his kiss—when he hears a jangle of keys outside, causing them to jump and rearrange themselves.

A minute later, the door opens to reveal FP carrying multiple bags of take-out from Pop’s, wearing his usual smile that’s carrying his exhaustion from the day’s labor.

“Good afternoon, FP! How’s work?” Betty chirps from next to him, subtly creating comfortable distance in consideration of his father.

“Oh, you know. The usual.” FP replies good-naturedly and offers the take-outs to Jughead.

Jughead takes the brown bags and pads to the kitchen. He arranges the table for three, like it’s the most normal thing to do, when he remembers that Betty no longer lives in the trailer.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asks in her direction. “I think my dad forgot that you no longer live with us. He got take-out for three.”

Betty’s profile lightens up, and looks like she’s about to agree, when FP calls out from across the room, practically shouting, “Would you like to stay forever?”

Jughead feels his whole body heat up in embarrassment, and he looks down instantly to hide his face, hand flying to the back of his neck to massage an imaginary knot. Suddenly, he doesn’t know how to act around Betty when his father is being so embarrassingly blatant like that.

Seconds later, FP appears from his room, already changed to his usual flannel and faded jeans.

“Uhh, kids, I was only joking. Relax.” FP announces to no one in particular, effectively dismissing the heavy air that seems to have frozen both Jughead and Betty.

Betty clears her throat and jumps toward the dining table, her mood is suspiciously perky, and Jughead finds himself leaning to her, and says in a hushed voice, “For the record, you staying here forever isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

He watches her face relax into the softest smile she’s ever worn.

[bugheadjones-the-third]

A/N: I've just written this... There's no edition and there are probably a lot of mistakes, so don't even try correcting them XD This is my last post tonight! Hope this can warm your hearts!

" I'm scared, Jug..." Betty started, walking in circles around the trailer and biting her lower lip. Her big, green eyes were starting to get wet, and he wasn't sure how long would it take for her to finally break. " There's this psycho out there... The people I love are in danger because of me, Polly is not home, Kevin and I aren't talking and you... I don't wanna lose you, too."

At that moment, Jughead could feel his heart breaking in half. In front of him, his girlfriend was scared and desperate, and there wasn't really anything he could do to help her feel safe. His life was also a mess, with all those threats at his new High School and his father still in jail, and even if he didn't want to stress her out- especially not at that moment- Jughead realized that if he didn't do anything, they would both explode. Life was starting to pull them from all the directions, and if there was one thing they both needed at that moment, was returning to those short memories of when they were actually happy, just enjoying a moment together or watching a movie simply because they wanted to.

It was time to go back, he knew. Even if just for one night, it was time to hit the breaks so they could breath,

" Betts..." His arms were fast to bring her closer in a hug, and almost immediately, he buried his nose in her blonde curls. She was still trapping them in a tight ponytail, and for the first time in his life, that hair prison bothered him. Jughead allowed his hand to slide through her arm, and his fingers softly pulled her hair down, freeing her golden waves that fell over her shoulders. He didn't kiss her, and he didn't even try deepening that moment. It was not the time to take that next step. Not yet.

" Jug." She lifted her head, her melancholic eyes meeting his. " What are you-"

" I'm here with you." His thumb was pressed against her cheek, caressing her soft skin. His eyes were offering her all the comfort in the world, and behind that blue ocean, all Betty could see was scared, little boy trying to be a man for her sake. " I'll always be here to protect you. You don't have to be scared, I promise. Let me take care of you. Stay here with me tonight."

" I don't... I don't want to bother you, Jughead. I-"

" Please... I don't want to be alone either."

Her eyes widened as she finally realized that, unlike she had thought, Jughead was being quite selfish with his words. He didn't want to be alone either. He wanted to have someone by his side, and he wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was as scared as she was. At that moment, Betty realized how that fear that had enveloped Riverdale was affecting them, and for the first time, she realized it was okay to let it win. At least for the night, Betty Cooper would allow herself to be afraid.

But she wouldn't be alone, no.

He was going to be there, with her, holding her hand as she held his as they made it through the night.

" I will." She nodded her head, not trying to force a smile or anything of the kind. She watched as a relieved reaction took over his face, and at that moment, she could tell their feelings were connected.

They were gonna make it, she knew. They were going to see the sun welcoming a new day, and they would be braver when it happened.

It didn't take long before they prepared everything. He grabbed them some blankets and she took one of his shirts, putting it on so she could relax into something comfortable. Before they knew it, they were already curled up in the couch, the silence of the trailer creating a calm atmosphere around them. His arms were wrapped around her, her hands were bringing him closer, and even if they could barely move, both Betty and Jughead knew it was about to be the best night of their lives.

A night of pure honesty, that would turn their fear into something stronger.

It would turn their fear into hope. And hope was the one thing they all needed at that moment.

" I love you, Jug... "

" Love you too, Betts..."

[an-all-consuming-love]

I have something fluffy. Archie complains that makeup is only for girls, but than Jughead openly admits that he has done both Betty’s hair and makeup😂💛

thanks for this! I’ll give it a go :)

It was Friday and the gang were sitting in there usual both at Pop’s while Betty and Veronica monopolized most of the conversation, gushing over what dress Betty should wear and how she should style her hair and makeup for the upcoming Southside High Ball Jughead was taking her to.

“B, please say you’ll let me come over the night of and help you get ready?!”

Betty laughed at Veronica’s eagerness, “of course! I wouldn’t have it any other way”

Archie shook his head with a smile, “its good to be a dude in times like these, huh Jug?”

Jughead chuckled and nodded, “agreed, i wouldn’t want to put up with it myself but I have to admit its kind of a magical process”. He and Betty exchanged knowing looks.

Archie gave Jughead a confused look, “what are you saying man?”

“I may or may not have given Betty a little makeover the other day”, he shrugged playing it off.

“OMG, tell us everything!”, Veronica squealed.

Betty nudged Jug, “well go on, tell them how you transformed me into a beautiful princess”

Jughead laughed, “alright, we were hanging out in her bedroom about a week ago and she was organizing her vanity when suddenly she turns to me with this evil glint in her eye- you know the one- and challenges me to do her makeup and hair. I blame to much youtube.”

Betty giggled, “you didn’t do a half bad job either, If life as a writer doesn’t work out I think you might have a promising career in cosmetology”

Jughead shook his head, “the only woman I want to look at and have my hands on all day is you”, he promised before planting a sweet kiss on betty’s smiling lips.

Veronica suddenly swatted Archie’s arm

“jesus V what was that for?!”

“take notes Archiekins”

there you go @thewolfishere2003 hope you like it!

[jandjsalmon]

socks by @jandjsalmon

She hardly knew him. He was Archie’s friend, not hers, and with every passing interaction, it was clear to her that he preferred it to stay that way. Jughead didn’t really talk to her - never said much more than the occasional sarcastic quip or obscure literary reference whenever they’d been forced to interact in the past - and with what she was about to do, it didn’t look like tonight was about to change that.

Read the one-shot on Ao3

** From a wonderful prompt by MotherMaple - and particularly on the nose if you know how I feel about Sprouses and socks. ** 

[ficmuse]

Title: Misleadings

BettyScoop: Hey, you’re finally online! Where have you been?

hitchtino: Just busy, you know how it goes.

BettyScoop: Having lots of summer fun in Riverdale?

hitchtino: Oh, you know it. Nonstop funfest.

BettyScoop: Polly saw your mom and JB down at the bus station. I thought you’d maybe gone with?

hitchtino: My mom’s just taking JB on a little vacation. I’m too tied up here with the drive in to take time off.

BettyScoop: You deserve a summer vacation too, Jug!

hitchtino: You know me. Every day’s a party. Who needs a vacation?

BettyScoop: Did your dad go away too? Must be lonely in the trailer all by yourself, if so!

hitchtino: Nope, Dad’s still here. Has a few job interviews coming up. Fingers crossed. Enough about me. How’s sunny California?

BettyScoop: Lots of fun! Too busy at the internship to do much sightseeing. But lots of fun nights out- my roommates are awesome.

hitchtino: Glad you’re having a good time. Have to go.

BettyScoop: Nice to chat with you, Juggie! Have to show you all my photos when I get back home.

hitchtino: Love to see you when you get back.

[go-ldy]

Fic: Time After Time (1/1)

Summary: As he turns, the crowd seems to part in front of him like the parting of the red sea. There are bodies everywhere, but somehow he has a clear path all the way to where she is sitting. Betty Cooper. It has been seven years, but somehow there mere sight of her knocks the breath out of him.

Jughead sees Betty again for the first time post time-jump.

Read on Ao3

[celandineitsaflowerdickward]

"The call is coming from inside the house...”

By @celandineitsaflowerdickward

“Hello?, who’s this?” 

"The call is coming from inside the house...” Came the deep, husky voice from the phone.

It sent a shiver down her body, yet not chilling, instead ending in a pool of heat in her abdomen. 

Her breathed hitched and the voice coming from the phone broke the silence once again.

 “Well,.. technically right outside, come open the door for me, will you baby?” 

She couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face, as a knock on the door came immediately after. Hanging up the phone without another word, she opened the door to the masked man outside. As he pulled the mask of he sighed longingly and said 

“Trick or treat, Betts?”

“Hmm... I should trick you for being late Jug, but I’m in need of a treat” she said as she pulled the collar of his shirt and kissed him deeply.

[winterlovesong1]

inspiration

Summary: Jughead gets some unexpected inspiration. S5 canon divergence.

Author Notes: Since we are having a catch up week for @riverdalepromptathon, and I made a moodboard for the second and third week, but not for the first week, I thought I’d go back and make one for week one - consistency what can I say lol

-/-

It’s two in the morning, his allotted time to write while technically still on his shift. He’s sitting at the counter on his chosen bar stool, his laptop glowing brighter than the diner neon, flashing it’s blank white screen like a beacon.

A beacon of his failure he thinks poetically.

Read the rest at AO3.

[sunshinebunnie]

Happy Holidays! If it strikes your creative fancy.. #14 with Bughead for the holiday prompts ask game!

**Squee** Thank you so much for this lovely ask, Sarah!! I hope you like it. 🤗🤗

Kissing Beneath the 23rd Floor

Jughead banged his head against the wall of the elevator when the greenish-orangish lights flickered for the umpteenth time. He hated living in the dorms, but the housing allowance that came with his writing scholarship couldn’t be transferred to off-campus housing (not that it would’ve covered anything other than 21st century tenement housing anyway given New York’s insane rents). As embarrassing as it was to be the only non-residential advisor junior living in a freshman/sophomore dorm, the housing office had at least done him the courtesy of securing him a single on the top floor. While he certainly couldn’t beat the view and he greatly appreciated not having to deal with the sounds of people having sex above him or puking in a trashcan five feet from his bed in the middle of the night, he was at the mercy of the latest and greatest in 1960s elevator technology. Nearly every other week, there were signs taped to the elevators banks indicating at least one or the other of the building’s elevators was out of commission because of repairs. 

The creaky metal box came to a shuddering stop at 14th floor. As the doors slowly opened with a protesting screech, Jughead found himself silently praying that some freshman had decided to play ding-dong-ditch with the elevators. Over the course of the semester, he’d quickly come to learn that the only thing worse than living in a dorm with antiquated facilities was living in a dorm with antiquated facilities with underclassmen. It had taken him a couple weeks, but he’d eventually managed to figure out the tell-tale signs that someone was a freshman and largely avoided getting on to the elevators with them: he’d been subjected one too many times to someone’s wide-eyed story about how it was their life dream to move to New York! as well as a couple awkward instances of being sloppily propositioned by drunk freshmen (men and women), not to mention the especially memorable time after midterms when a comp sci major bawled against his shoulder for sixteen floors because he’d flunked his coding exam. He held his breath as he waited to see whether one of Santa’s “lost elves” was about to get on the elevator with him (he’d already had thirteen unavoidable encounters this week). 

When no one immediately made to get on the elevator, he started to breathe a sigh of relief, only to tense up as a hand suddenly shot between the slowly closing doors. The disembodied appendage flailed for a second, trying to find the elevator’s sensor to signal that someone was trying to get on. As the doors continued shutting, he heard a muffled voice that sounded like it said ‘for fuck’s sake’ as the waving hand disappeared. For a split second, he considered just appreciating his good luck and enjoying the rest of his elevator ride (hopefully) in peace, but then he thought back to what time it probably was. It had already been after 11:30 when Archie’s gig had wrapped up, which meant it had to be nearing midnight or later. The only people he’d run into in his dorm that late at night who sounded as coherent as the person on the other end of the elevator doors were the residential advisors. With a heavy sigh, he reached for the “door open” button.

It took long enough for the doors to reopen that he was almost beginning to think he’d broken the elevator when a cheery, but tired-looking blonde stepped gracefully into the confined space. Her hunter green corduroy skirt was offset by a pristine cream-colored sweater covered with a tasteful motif of poinsettias made out of delicate red glass seed beads. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve immediately glanced at her feet to see if she was wearing the ubiquitous Uggs that nearly every sophomore girl in the building appeared to own; however, he recognized her ponytail. (He should’ve, after all, having been transfixed by it every Monday and Wednesday from 10 to 11:30 during their required survey course freshman year: Intro to Film Studies.) 

Betty Cooper. 

He’d wanted an excuse to talk to her, but had never worked up the nerve. Toni, Sweet Pea and Fangs had latched on to him for their group project within the first week of class, and she always seemed to be surrounded by some guy named Kevin and a forbidding brunette named Veronica. Out of all his friends, Toni seemed to be the only one who’d caught him mooning over her from time to time, and she’d jokingly given him shit that he should just bite the bullet and create an Instagram account so he could stalk her properly. 

Jughead was so caught up in his own memories that it took him a minute to realize she was giving him an odd look of searching recognition: it was a look he’d frequently gotten in high school when more popular people from Riverdale High would run into the “loner weirdo from the Southside” around town. Before he had a chance to confirm to her that yes, they did know each other, her green eyes lit up a little, and she said, “Jughead?”

Any ability he had to comprehend or communicate in English–or in any other way, for that matter–abandoned him as he stared dumbly at her in shock. When he didn’t initially respond, the small crinkles at the corners of her eyes started to smooth out as she repeated a little more tentatively, “It is Jughead, right? I remember you. From Film Studies? Freshman year? You always had really insightful comments on all the Hitchcock movies. I’m Bett…”

“…Betty Cooper. I remember,” he finished for her, his brain and his mouth having finally reconnected to one another. 

The tentative look she had was once again chased away by a tired smile as she acknowledged he recognized her too. Betty briefly turned to look at the floor buttons before giving her attention back to him. Having mutually confirmed that they knew each other, they settled back into that semi-awkward silence that tends to pervades elevators when the occupants know one another, but not well enough for casual conversation to come naturally. Jughead watched as she began to unconsciously worrying at the cuffs of her sweater before he said, “I didn’t realize you were one of the residential advisors here.”

Betty ducked her head to the side as she softly tittered for a second before replying, “Oh, that’s because I’m not. There’s a mold problem in my campus apartment, and facility services can’t take care of it until Monday. My friend Ethel is off skiing in the Poconos this weekend with her sorority sisters though, so she’s letting me crash in her room.”

He knew Ethel. She was one of the “motherly” advisors that the more homesick freshmen seemed to swarm around like gnats. Jughead had tried being cordial with her initially–like he was with most of the other upperclassmen in the building–but had started avoiding her more recently after she’d taken it into her head that she needed to Witness to him and had become hellbent on converting him. 

Before the awkward silence descended on them again, Betty prompted, “Do you like being an advisor?”

Jughead let out a dry laugh, which earned him a confused look from her, before he replied, “I’m not an advisor either.”

Betty’s face lit up for the briefest of seconds before her brows started knitting together again. Right as he was going to ask what was bothering her, she said, “You don’t strike me as the booty call type.”

As a creative writing major, Jughead rarely found himself speechless, yet Betty Cooper had managed to strike him dumb twice in under five minutes. He could only imagine how hard Toni would be laughing if she could see him now. His normal embarrassment at admitting he lived in the building was quickly overridden by his desire to disabuse her of the notion that he was somehow preying on young women who weren’t much older than jailbait. Closing his eyes for a second, he centered his thoughts, before steadily holding her gaze as he said seriously, “I’m not. I live here.”

The confusion on her face only deepened as she said, “But you said you’re not an advisor.”

He sighed. This was the explanation he hated getting into with other upperclassmen. He was supposed to be doing a semester abroad at a prestigious writing retreat; however, getting everything settled, he found out the stipend he’d been depending on to cover his living expenses for the four months he was there had been given to a “more challenged” candidate. Unable to make the financials work, he’d been forced to scrap his study abroad plan at the last minute. While getting into the classes he wanted hadn’t been too difficult (the benefit of being a faculty favorite within the department), sorting out his housing had proved much more difficult. Toni had wound up transferring to an all-women’s college upstate at the start of their sophomore year, while Sweet Pea and Fangs moved off campus. Without really knowing any other juniors or seniors, he hadn’t been able to get into a suite with anyone he knew he’d get along with, and he wasn’t willing to risk moving in with another psychotic like his freshman roommate, Malachai. When a freshman decided to de-enroll two weeks before the start of school, campus housing had shoved him into the newly available single and called it a day. 

Rather than get into his sob story with her, he opted for the decidedly more taciturn explanation: “There were complications with my study abroad program, and this was the only available housing left.”

Jughead paused, waiting for the invariable look that decried, ‘Seriously? You couldn’t find a single upperclassman to live with? What’s wrong with you?’ Before he could go on the defensive though, Betty turned soft green eyes full of genuine sympathy toward him as she said, “That must’ve been really frustrating for you. At least, I know when I had to cancel my study abroad plans it was really frustrating.”

A part of him wanted to snap that he didn’t need her pity, but the more rational side of him was able to squash the self-destructive impulse before he did something stupid—like act on it. Instead, he found himself giving her a small smile back as he said, “It was.” 

Silence settled back over them again, periodically broken up by high-pitched squealing from the elevator’s ancient cable wheel. By the time they’d reached the 19th floor, several minutes had passed without them speaking, and Betty had begun looking earnestly at her shoes to avoid the temptation to stare at the enigmatic man sharing the small space with her. She was just starting to daydream about what might’ve happened if she’d listened to Veronica freshman year and simply given him her phone number when she suddenly heard him ask, “What’s the occasion?” 

Her head popped up like a prairie dog at the unexpected question before she briefly glanced back down to take a look at her outfit. “This? No occasion,” she said with a slight blush, “A few of us from the student paper got together to watch the tree lighting at Rockefeller Center, then grabbed some drinks after.”

He nodded sagely, although in three years of living in Manhattan, it had never once occurred to him to go see a Christmas tree get lit up. The image of Betty standing in front of a comically large tree covered in twinkling fairy lights suddenly popped into his head—the whole idea seemed positively Rockwellian to him, and a small sardonic grin pulled at the edges of his mouth. At least, it did, until he realized Betty hadn’t gotten on the elevator at the ground floor, and his good humor quickly morphed into a scowl. “Seducing impressionable freshmen with the romantic holiday atmosphere, Mrs. Robinson?” he asked just dryly enough for it to still be considered a joke, but it was close. 

Betty’s eyes shot wide open, and for the briefest second, he thought she was going to slap him, but instead, she threw her head, her ponytail dancing in time with her tinkling laughter. “Hardly,” she said when she finally caught her breath. “More like letting Trev cry on my shoulder after finding out the guy he’s sort of been seeing this semester has a very serious girlfriend back home in Connecticut, who decided to come down for the weekend as a surprise.” 

Jughead winced. He didn’t know Trevor well, but he’d periodically shared a creaky elevator ride with the quiet ceramics major, and what happened to him was a shitty thing to go through. 

The elevator had just pulled passed the 20th floor when it let out a particularly loud whine of protest before coming to an abrupt halt. The sudden change in momentum caught them both by surprise. Although Betty valiantly attempted to stay upright, her efforts were for naught as Jughead slammed heavily into her with a loud oof. 

“Ow!” Betty cried as her hip slammed into the aluminum grab bar screwed to the wall of the elevator. 

“Sorry!” Jughead said, his hand reflexively dropping to Betty’s waist as he braced himself for the fall. 

His fingers feathered over a sliver of exposed skin on her back as her sweater rode up slightly, and she shivered a little from the unexpected contact. Jughead’s eyes dropped to her lips before sweeping back up to her face. A light blush spread across her cheeks as she looked up at him with something akin to longing, and his heart started to race. Her eyes flickered past his ear.

“Mistletoe,” she said breathily. 

“Huh?” he said as her captivating eyes settled back on his face.

“Someone hung mistletoe from the lights,” she whispered with a husky burr coloring her voice.

His heart momentarily stuttered in his chest. He didn’t normally ascribe to the sort of forced holiday merriment that mistletoe pretended to embody; however, as Betty’s hopeful gaze slowly settled back toward his lips, he found himself leaning infinitesimally closer toward her. 

“Remind me,” he said softly as he felt the humidity caused by the warm exhalations of her mouth so close to his skin, “what’s the tradition with mistletoe?”

Without another word, Betty closed the small gap between them, pressing her plush, velvety lips to his. He groaned against her mouth as all of his synaptic nerves suddenly fired off like fireworks on New Year’s Eve, and he reflexively pulled Betty closer to him. Her tongue probed his half open mouth more eagerly than he was anticipating as her fingers pulled sharply on the fine hairs at the base of his neck, and the sharp sting caught him pleasantly by surprise. Pulling his mouth away from hers, he nipped teasingly at her bottom lip when she let out a small plaintive mewl of displeasure at his having broken off their kiss. 

Jughead couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he took in the full scope of her adorable pout. Before he had a chance to make a playfully sarcastic comment though, the stalled elevator slowly started rumbling back to life. His eyes reflexively sought out the floor guide, and he felt his heart drop a little when he realized Betty was destined to get off in two more floors. He could sense his normal “bah-humbug” romantic feelings begin overtaking him again as he realized his shared moment with Betty was all too fleeting. 

As the light for the 21st floor weakly illuminated, Jughead could see Betty chewing on her lip as if she was contemplating a question. As if on cue, he heard her ask in a quietly suggestive voice, “Do you believe in Krampus, Jughead?”

His brow knit momentarily in confusion before he replied a little more brusquely than he otherwise would’ve intended, “No. Why?”

Betty gave him a blinding grin before balling her fist in his soft cotton t-shirt and yanking him toward the creakily opening doors as she said, “Good. Because I aim to misbehave.”

~*~The End~*~

[theheavycrown]

Betty looks at Archie and Jughead with melancholy before turning to Veronica. Is this childhood crush on Archie worth her tears? Her friendship? Could the path of her life take a different road than the one she had always planned? Years pass in seconds as hundreds of possibilities run through her mind. She makes a decision before the moment passes. She had never really wanted to be the girl next door, following her mothers path, cut off from friends and choices.

Looking back, she sees the boys in a new light; her eyes land on Jughead.

He fiddles nervously with his jacket, needing something to do with his hands. She is looking at him. Betty Cooper. Really looking. Increasing in speed, his heart thuds in his chest.

A smile creeps into her eyes and touches her mouth. “Do you guys want to join us?”

He pauses, considering, and looks to Archie. Seconds go by as he makes a decision. If the question is Betty, his answer has always been— will always be— yes. A playful smile of his own turns up his lips as he walks toward the booth. “Yes, but only if you’re treating.”

This might be the happiest Jughead has been in a very long time.

[detective-cooper]

For the prompts, either 2, 4 (if the roadside assistance person is Betty), or 27!

Two strangers meet at the airport while heading home for the holiday. I hope you enjoy, @ava-rosier!

—

Jughead has always had a soft spot for the holidays. The festive cheer, the colourful decorations, the magic that fills the air during December and of course, the ugly sweaters that come out once every twelve months.

There was just something about it that gave him the warm and fuzzies. His friends always made fun of him for it. It used to bother him; he’d keep his festive cheeriness for behind the paper thin bedroom door in the rundown trailer—but he got to the age where he simply didn’t care anymore what people thought of his love for Christmas and all things holly & jolly.

This year, however, was slightly different for Jughead Jones.

He was going home for the holidays.

He was returning to Riverdale.

He was spending Christmas with a family where the cheer didn’t exist.

His family.

*

Jughead stared at the television screen hanging from the ceiling.

Delayed.

He had anticipated this. He had been watching and tracking the weather for the last week and things were looking very, very bleak.

It just happened to be at its worst the day he was meant to be flying home.

Delayed.

As he watched his fellow disgruntled passengers collect their hand luggage and make their way to the bar, he spotted her.

She had the look of someone that would much rather be anywhere else than stuck at an airport just days before Christmas. Jughead had obviously been staring too long because he saw her flinch and their eyes locked. He gave what he thought was a “this sucks hey” smile, but judging by the way she raised an eyebrow—it wasn’t.

“Don’t worry about her.”

Jughead jumped at the voice coming from behind.

“She’s avoids going home for Christmas like the plague. It’s been years, but I put my foot down this year. She’s none too pleased with me.”

Jughead sat, stared and attempted to process the truckload of information that had just been dumped on him from a complete stranger.

A complete stranger in an awful festive sweater, wearing a beanie that resembled a Santa hat.

“I’m Jughead.” He announced—figuring he could do with some company thanks to the delay, he thought he’d introduce himself.

The woman smiled, lowering her eyes to the ground and shuffled her feet. When she looked up again, he couldn’t help but notice that she was blushing.

“I know,” she whispered, “I’ve read your book more times than I care to admit.”

Jughead was dumbfounded, “my book?” He repeated.

106 ways to bring the festive back into the bah humbug family.

“I’m Betty. Do you want to grab a gingerbread latte?”

[an-all-consuming-love]

Had some trouble sending this second part of my impromptu ficlet to @betsforsythetrash through anon last night so I’m outing myself! Here you go! sorry for the delay :)

...reality was far better than dreams these days anyway. Jughead propped up on his elbow and softly ran his fingers over her profile lovingly. “what did I ever do to deserve you Betty Cooper?”, at the sound of his voice she stirred slightly and her lips turned up in an adorable pout, “juggie? i’m cold”. Jughead pulled her close, tucking her under his chin and pulling the blankets farther up. “I’m here love... and I’m not going anywhere”

thanks for inspiring this incredibly sappy shit Amanda!

[alicat-gotyourtongue]

Too many song ficlets for my one set of *eyes emoji*

[srainebuggie]

"Betty, where did you even get so much tinsel?"

Betty was standing in the living room of her first apartment in New York, staring in awe at the Christmas tree that stood 10 feet tall beside her automatic fireplace. She had spent the entire day decorating, waking long before her boyfriend, Jughead, went to work, and only taking necessary breaks for the bathroom and some much needed caffeine. Jughead was expected home within five minutes, and she wanted this, their first tree, in their first apartment, on their first Christmas together, to be absolutely perfect. He loved blue, he had always loved blue, and though it wasn’t much of a Christmas colour, or even in the top 5 of Betty’s favourites, she made sure the tree was a combination of silver, red, and blue. 

The creaking of the door turned Betty’s attention behind her, and she tried to hide her nerves at Jughead’s blank expression on his face. 

“Jug?” Betty asked, watching to see any change in Jughead as he set down his laptop bag and walked into the living room. 

He stood there silently for moment, looking the tree up and down. The colours were a large contrast to the pastel couch and chair, matte black fireplace and old black and white photographs on the walls. Red and silver ornaments hung along every inch of the tree, but what caught Jughead’s eyes the most was the blue tinsel from the top to the very bottom. 

He had never seen so much tinsel in his life, being used to smaller trees and even less decorations, and he was completely shocked by the amount of blue in front of him. 

He turned around to face Betty and smiled, his straight face now long gone. 

“What? What’s so funny?” She was nervous, afraid of what he was going to say about it all. 

“Nothing’s funny baby,” Jughead walked forward and kissed her on the forehead, “just, Betty, where did you even get so much tinsel?”

Betty stepped back and swatted Jughead on the arm, “I was scared you didn’t like it!” she laughed, leaning into his neck and giving him a tight hug, “I know a person,” Betty answered his question.

“So your mom took you decoration shopping then?” Jughead chuckled. 

“Yes.” The two remained in each other’s arms in the middle of their living room, both laughing when Betty explained how many other people asked her the same question when she sent pictures of the tree to her friends. 

They decided there, in front of the tinsel covered tree and in each other’s arms, that this would be the best Christmas yet.