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wondernimbus · 4 years

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no time to die — tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x female!reader

prompt: "i'd fallen for a lie, you were never on my side."

a/n: this was inspired by the song no time to die by billie eilish so i highly highly recommend listening to that while reading! the prompt/lyric itself isn’t in the actual text but it was based off of it eeee anyways enjoy

It should never have come to this.

She’d warned him, time and time again, that if he didn't stop, she would have to interfere. Whether he liked it or not.

He never listened, of course. He’d said the same thing he always did: that everything he was doing was leading to something much, much bigger than she would ever be able to imagine. Never quite specifying what it was, exactly, but [Y/N] wasn't dumb—she knew Tom wasn't up to any good.

It was during his fifth year that she first tried to confront him about it, only to no avail. Tom had told her not to worry, putting on that same facade of complete composure that he'd used to fool so many others into believing that he was nothing but the picture-perfect student he made himself out to be. [Y/N] saw right through it, as she'd done so many times before.

They’d first met when they were eleven and grew closer ever since. Tom, she supposed, knew right off the bat that he wasn't fooling her; it was clear in the way she looked at him, so full of doubt and suspicion, that she wasn't easily fooled, young as she was. It should have made him want to avoid her, but instead he only grew curious, and before he knew it they'd become something akin to friends, growing more and more intimate with the passing of time even though neither of them ever quite addressed it.

The two of them cared for each other, that much was certain. She wasn't sure how deeply Tom cared for her, but she knew that she would do anything for Tom. Or at least whatever she thought was best for him.

And maybe it was for that reason that [Y/N] found herself outside of Dumbledore’s study, hand hovering in mid-air mere centimetres from the wooden door as she took in a shaky breath, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

She knew Tom better than she knew anyone else, and she knew that he was getting worse, growing more distant with each passing day. She was losing him to.. whatever his plans were. He was beginning to spend more time with his so-called group of admirers (although [Y/N] knew that the term "followers" was more appropriate). What little glimmer of sanity in his eyes that always used to show only whenever he was around her was slowly starting to dim.

She wasn't just losing him; he was losing himself, too, bit by bit. And she knew she had to do something about it.

So she knocked on the door.

"Come in!" came Dumbledore’s voice.

[Y/N] took in another deep breath, furled and unfurled her fingers, swallowed, and then she twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

She’d only been to Dumbledore’s study once before, to ask him a question about homework. Such drastically different circumstances she found herself in now.

"Good evening, professor,” she said, meeting the old man's gaze from where he sat behind his desk. There was an open book in front of him—when was there not?—and what looked like a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans clutched in his hands.

"Ah, Miss [Y/L/N]," beamed Dumbledore as he held out his box of treats. "Would you like to have some?"

Rather used to Dumbledore’s peculiar friendliness, she forced a smile and shook her head. "No, thank you."

"I imagine you don't make it a habit to visit your professors as a means of enjoyment," said Dumbledore, wizened old eyes twinkling as he set down the box on his desk in favor of clasping his hands together and setting them over his book. "So what, might I ask, brings you here? Oh, and please—sit." He gestured to the plush chair across from him.

[Y/N]'s movements were hesitant as she made her way to the chair and took a seat; something that didn't go unnoticed by Dumbledore, judging from the sudden somberness that crossed his face. It was clear that she wasn't here to ask about homework, much less share a box of jellybeans.

"Is everything alright?" Dumbledore frowned.

[Y/N] looked down at her lap. She couldn't stop fidgeting.

Tom was going to suffer for this. She didn't know how, but she knew he would. But she had warned him, hadn't she? She’d told him that if he didn't stop whatever it was that he was up to, she would put a stop to it—and this was better for him, wasn't it?

She knew what Tom was capable of. To anyone else he may have looked like nothing but the perfect model student, but [Y/N] knew him. He had a certain kind of coldness about him. The dangerous kind; the one that suggested he was capable of doing terrible, terrible things.

That, coupled with the nights he spent somehow sneaking out of the castle, only to come back in the early morning with a disturbingly triumphant gleam in his eyes.. the countless reports of dead Muggles in the surrounding villages.. the young followers he'd already amassed, some greedy for glory, others hungry for cruelty, some weak and seeking protection.. his seemingly harmless talks of immortality..

And the constant talk of a plan that would bring about some sort of change in the wizarding world. Somehow [Y/N] knew that whatever this change was, it wasn't going to be a happy one.

"Tom," she breathed out, deciding to cut straight to the point as she looked up to meet Dumbledore’s gaze. "Tom Riddle. I’m sure you know him."

A brief look of realization flashed in the old man’s eyes. Shifting in his seat, he looked down at his book momentarily as though pondering over something, and then back up at [Y/N], gaze now completely serious. “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Of course.”

”And I know that you have your doubts about him.”

A beat of silence. And then he nodded. “I do, Miss [Y/L/N].”

”He’s planning something,” she said, oddly breathless. “I don’t know what, but he’s.. he’s up to something.”

A ghost of a slight smile appeared on Dumbledore’s face. “That much I have figured out as well.”

[Y/N] swallowed. “I think he’s trying to make a Horcrux.”

A tense silence followed her words.

The weight of what she said hung heavy in the air as though a dark cloud had settled over the room. For a few seconds all Dumbledore did was peer at her through his half-moon spectacles, brows creased just the slightest bit, and then, after what seemed like an awfully long time, he let out a long, low breath and nodded.

"I wish I could be more surprised," sighed Dumbledore. "But I'm afraid I've long since had my suspicions about Mr. Riddle, and I don't doubt your words, even though part of me wishes they were untrue."

"He mentioned the word Horcrux to me once, in passing," began [Y/N], relieved at how easily he trusted her. She'd always known Dumbledore was wiser; while the other professors had fallen for Tom's spell, he had not. "Something about having found an answer to his problems—the answer being Horcruxes. something about a soul in exchange." [Y/N] paused, fists clenching in her lap. "I decided to look into it. It took me a while—none of the books in the library here hold too much information about it, but I looked through my family's library when I came home during the winter break. I found out what the word meant.. how to make it."

"And you believe Tom might be interested in—"

"In making a Horcrux, yes." Her tone of voice held a sense of urgency; she'd leaned forward unconsciously in her seat. "I know it sounds mad, but professor, I know Tom. I know what he's capable of. And I—" she inhaled, as though bracing herself for her next words, "I believe he'd be willing to kill for the sake of immortality. Saying it out loud sounds ridiculous, but Tom is hungry for power. I don't know what kind exactly, but I've known him for a long time and I'm sure I'm not just imagining it. He even has followers of his own—he calls them friends, of course, for the sake of normalcy, but they're more his subjects than anything else. He's up to something."

She was betraying Tom, she knew. She was the only person he truly trusted; it was clear just by the way he looked at her, the way he treated her like she was royalty. And [Y/N] felt just as deeply for him as he did for her.

[Y/N] loved Tom; it was why she was doing this. And if he loved her, he would understand.

There was a beat of silence as she recalled what Tom had told her, not so long ago. "Something big," she echoed, holding Dumbledore’s gaze. "Something much bigger than neither I nor you would ever be able to imagine."

—

The world seemed to be ridiculing her.

Two days after her conversation with Dumbledore, Tom took her to the Astronomy tower and confessed that he did, indeed, care for her. And not like a friend would care for another, nor the way a brother would care for his sister—no, he loved her like a man would love another woman.

Tom loved her.

But that wasn’t all he confessed. Finally, he told her of his plans to seek immortality, and along with it, power; how, in the future, he planned to purge the world of non-magical blood. He told her that his plan was already in motion.

This boy standing in front of her, only sixteen—had he murdered someone already?

The mysterious deaths in the Muggle villages surrounding the castle.. [Y/N] had her suspicions, but she’d hoped that it wasn’t him.

”We will rule the wizarding world together,” Tom told her, hands holding the sides of her face, pulling her close. “Bit by bit, we will gain power together. You will be at my side as I become the most powerful wizard of all time—and I will protect you with that power. I will make sure that no man will ever be able to touch you—“

”Tom.”

”I have never known love like the one you’ve taught me to feel,” he exhaled. “And I intend to keep it. To keep you.”

She closed her eyes, ignoring the tears burning behind them as she reached up, gently prying his hands away from her neck. “Tom, listen to me.”

He tried to hold her gaze even as she looked away; her hands gripped his own weakly. “What you’re talking about,” she began softly, “It’s.. I’m sorry, Tom, but it’s madness.”

He stared at her. “Madness.”

This time her grip on his hands did falter. Her arms dropped down to her sides as she turned to instead hold onto the railing, needing something to hang onto. “Tearing your soul apart? For immortality?” she shook her head, pained. “You can’t possibly expect me to stand by your side while you do.. Merlin knows what.”

Tom was silent, but the loving look in his eyes had died out. They were cold again. A little stunned.

“I love you,” she whispered, looking down at her hands, which clutched the metal railing as though it were a lifeline. “Just as much as you love me, Tom, I can assure you of that. But I can’t be with someone who—“

”Someone evil,” Tom cut her off. His tone was bitter. “Is that what you think I am?”

Isn’t that what you are? she wanted to say. Asking me to help you tear your own soul apart and stand by as you murder innocent people?

She swallowed, hung her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Please leave,” she said quietly. “I need some time to think.”

A few seconds passed by in complete silence. She could still feel his presence behind her—could feel the frustration radiating off of him.

“Please leave, Tom,” she repeated, ignoring the shakiness in her own voice. And then, louder: “Leave.”

She listened to his footsteps as he left the tower. And once they faded away, it was only then that she sank to her knees and started crying.

—

[Y/N] loved Tom, and it was for that reason that she found herself inside Dumbledore’s office that very same night, retelling each and every detail of Tom’s plans to the wizened old man, her voice oddly numb and devoid of any emotion.

No fear. No anxiety. Not even pain, as she stood before Dumbledore, betraying the boy she loved and yet could never have. Not with what he wanted to do.

”Thank you,” Dumbledore said once she was finished. Her jaw was clenched as she nodded, swallowed, and then—

What now?

She would go back to the Slytherin common room and face Tom again. What would she do? Take him into her arms and pretend as though all he’d confessed to her hours earlier was that he loved her, and not his horrible plans? Or would she ignore the ache in her chest and pretend as though all their six years of friendship were nonexistent?

Could she? Was her heart capable of that?

As though Dumbledore had read her mind, he said, “Miss [Y/L/N], I’m going to have to ask you to look for another sliver of bravery within you. You must continue to gain information from Tom.”

At this, [Y/N] looked up, the first few traces of real emotion flickering in her eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“Learn his secrets. His plans. Find out what horrid things he has already done and what he will do.”

[Y/N] opened her mouth. No words came out.

“I understand that it would be difficult,” said Dumbledore, tone gentle and yet at the same time authoritative; it wasn’t a request. “But as far as I am aware, you are the closest thing Tom has to a friend. It seems he trusts you.”

”And you want me to keep betraying him.”

There was an almost amused lilt to Dumbledore’s tone. “Were you planning on stopping after this, Miss [Y/L/N]?” he asked, brows furrowed in curiosity. “Did you honestly plan on walking out of this room and turning a blind eye to your friend’s dangerous schemes? I believe you and I reached an understanding the moment you asked for my help a mere few days ago: we will stop Tom Riddle, no matter what the cost. No matter if it risks your friendship with him.”

It risked everything she ever had with him. Everything she would ever have.

And yet.

And yet she loved him, and it was for that reason that she nodded and muttered, “I'll.. I’ll do what’s necessary.”

Meaning, she would betray him.

The first time she’d gone into Dumbledore’s office, she was determined. Nervous, yes, but she’d known what she had to do. But now, knowing that Tom loved her, that he trusted her enough to tell her of every single one of his plans—it changed a lot of things. Made her feel ten times more guilty than she already did.

But she had no choice. She had to stop him. She knew he wouldn’t even if she asked him to—the mere idea of it was unrealistic—so she had to find another way.

She had to trick him. To betray him.

If Tom truly loved her, he would understand.

[Y/N] hoped he would.

—

It took days before they spoke again.

[Y/N] had wanted to put off her task for as long as she could, but before she knew it, Tom was approaching her again.

It seemed he couldn’t last very long without her.

It was nighttime. She was alone—the rest of the students were at the Great Hall, eating dinner—so she had the Hogwarts courtyard all to herself.

Until someone yanked her by the shoulder, pulled her into them, and kissed her.

There was a brief moment of surprise in which she tried to push him away roughly, but then, wide-eyed and bewildered, she got a good look at him.

“Tom,” she gasped, but he kept his lips on hers, one hand on her waist and the other clutching the side of her face. The way he kissed her was almost feverish—desperate—as though he'd been longing to have this for a long time and wanted as much of it as possible now that he had it.

She thought of protesting, of pushing him away roughly and storming away, but instead she found herself relaxing into him; there was a part of her, she realized, that wanted—no, needed this as much as Tom did. So she kissed back, fingers pressing into his upper arm as she kissed him with just as much passion as he was offering her.

Warning signs flashed inside her head. Could she really do this? Pretend like nothing was wrong?

And then a thought came to her. A disturbing one, really—one that had what felt like guilt pricking at her chest as she molded her lips against Tom's own: this could work.

This was exactly what she needed to do. Pretend as though nothing was wrong, stay at Tom's side like this, grow closer to him, find out his secrets and his plans, like Dumbledore said—and then.

And then she would bring him down, in the end.

So she kissed him. Kissed him until she lost track of time; until the passion in her died out and was only replaced by a feeling of numbness, knowing fully well that the reason she was kissing him was no longer because of how much she wanted to, but because she had to gain his trust. When Tom pulled away, finally, lips swollen and eyes like dark pools of water, he leaned his forehead on hers and whispered, "I love you."

A chill ran down her spine. She swallowed and closed her eyes. It was easier not to look at him.

[Y/N] tightened her hold on Tom's arm and choked out four words that she meant fully well, and yet felt so horribly guilty for saying.

"I love you too," she told him, and hoped that he didn’t hear the trembling in her voice.

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fyeahsharonrooney · 4 years

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'Finding Alice' star Sharon Rooney on silencing the social media bullies and why her granny was her greatest inspiration (Sunday Post, 17.1.21)

'...Fire up social media on your phone and within moments you’re free to interact with a world full of people. Holiday photos from your cousin in New Zealand? Click like!

Your pal’s video of a Yorkshire terrier that sounds like Brian Blessed? Hit retweet! Don’t like the way someone looks? Tell them to lose some weight!

Hang on, that last one is probably a bit rude. You wouldn’t wander up to a stranger in the street and casually advise them to give the sweeties a miss, not unless you were desperately craving a sore face.

Yet that kindly advice is precisely what someone like Sharon Rooney is offered when she logs into sites such as Instagram.

Sharon, who starred in Disney’s recent live action Dumbo remake, E4’s My Mad Fat Diary and hit sitcom Two Doors Down has endured her fair share of trolling.

“It’s the unsolicited medical advice I enjoy,” she laughed. “Telling me not to eat jellybeans. Thanks!

“I learned quite quickly people will pick apart anything. They will find something. Even if I was five sizes smaller, someone will tell me I looked better before. You’ll never please everyone.

“There’s a lovely mute button now. If someone writes something rude I just quietly say ‘Shhh’ to them.

“With My Mad Fat Diary I’m already saying, ‘Hello, I am fat human’. What can they say?

“I have eyes, I know what I look like and I’m fine with that. Sorry if you’re not. I’m doing OK, so please don’t worry about me.”

Sharon, 32, is doing more than OK though, which you’ll see if you tune into new ITV drama Finding Alice tonight.

She stars opposite Keeley Hawes and it’s a role that saw Sharon cross the Bodyguard star’s name off a special list.

“I’ll let you into a secret. Every actor has a dream list of people they’d love to work with and Keeley was on mine,” she said.

“I told Keeley. She just rolled her eyes and told me to shut up.

“Why would you not want to work with her? She’s fantastic in everything she does.

“Keeley’s everything I thought she would be. Whe’s one of a kind. A special human being. Look, Keeley’s not paying me to say this! Maybe she should…?”

Praising a colleague is, of course, second nature to an actor. There’s a reason they call them luvvies; plus you don’t want to end up working with someone you’ve bad-mouthed on a project in a year’s time, do you?

This isn’t merely empty platitudes for a thespian pal. Sharon’s praise is warm, generous and genuine. It’s how she herself comes across, along with a dash of wry humour.

Perhaps it’s the influence of her late granny, who Sharon describes as her soulmate.

“This sounds so cheesy but she truly was,” she added. “You know you get one human who you just chime with? I just loved her. We were two old souls.

“She taught me so much. I think grannies have that magic where they teach you to deal with life after they’re gone. I just enjoyed every minute I had with her.”

The pain and sadness we’ve all experienced over the past year, along with the forced holiday she’s had to take with being locked down, has let Sharon think about the grief she felt when her gran died.

“Even if you’re preparing for a death I don’t think it’s any easier than if it’s unexpected,” she said.

“When it is unexpected, like the way Harry dies in Finding Alice, you’re left reeling from it for so long before you can take in what’s happened.

“With Nicola, the character I play, the initial shock has happened. Her big brother has died. So how do you move forward? Grief itself is such a complicated thing. There’s no guide book. When you feel sad, you feel sad.

“Grief sneaks up on you. You think you’re fine then it appears with a ‘Hiya!’

“I still get it. I’ll think I can’t wait to show my gran something before going, ‘Oh yeah’.

“My gran spoke about it before she died. We were talking about how thinking of someone after they’ve died is like ringing a bell for them.

“She said, ‘Don’t think of me too much, hen – I’ll get no rest.’”

(Sharon Rooney as Miss Atlantis with co-star DeObia Oparei in Tim Burton’s Dumbo)

Happily, Sharon brought her sardonic and garrulous Glaswegian spirit to the set of Dumbo, in which Sharon appeared alongside Hollywood legend Danny DeVito.

“You forget they’re still humans, which is easy to do when you’re standing in front of Danny DeVito. All I could think was that this was Danny DeVito. Has anyone told him?

“You just talk on set. Gab, gab, gab. That’s all we did. I was shouting over to Tim to ask for two minutes so Danny could finish his story.

“That’s Tim Burton, by the way. Listen to me, I just call him Tim now.”

Casting for a Disney blockbuster like Dumbo was straightforward, although it did come with an ironclad ban from telling her friends about the project until it was announced.

My Mad Fat Diary focused on the plus-sized character Sharon played but, since then, the roles she’s taken don’t normally specify anything about her character’s weight.

“A lot of parts I go for don’t say the character must be plus-size or look a certain way,” she said.

“I’ve only been doing this for eight years or so but for me it’s never been an issue but I know for some it has been.

“It’s about owning who you are. I realise that’s difficult because of social media. What I try to do is take jobs with people who are authentic characters.

“If it does specify a plus-size actor then my response is to ask why. Let’s investigate this.

“These days – well, before the pandemic – I would go to auditions and the room would be filled with so many different people, which I love. The room isn’t filled with girls who all look the same.

“And I love seeing a role that I didn’t get go to someone completely different to me. Well, I don’t love it because then I’ve not got the role, but it’s still nice to see.”

(The cast of Finding Alice © Joss Barratt)

A closeness with her other granny (the pair are bubbled up) has developed during the lockdowns of the past year, from which Sharon has taken heart.

Other than that she’s been enjoying her break ahead of Finding Alice’s release, as well as browsing social media.

Although these days she’s a lot wiser in how she does it; retaining the enjoyment with the help of that handy mute button.

“I used to follow every celebrity and every celebrity magazine,” added Sharon. “But it just made me doubt myself. I’d go to post a video then I’d wonder if I should put more make-up on first.

“I’ve stopped doing that. On Twitter these days I post videos where I’ve just woken up.

“I mean if you do post a video where you look great and have all your make-up on, then great, but I don’t know how you do it! I look forward to my no-make-up days.

“Oh you should see the state of me. I live in loungewear now. I put on jeans the other day. What are these things? What is this material we wear? These are awful!”

Finally, some feedback with which we can all agree...' X

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soyforramen · 5 years

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The first day of school brought with it many things. A brutal new schedule after the lazy months of summer’s freedom. New, at least to Jughead, clothes and shoes now that he’d grown out of the old ones. Empty notebooks and cheap pencils from the dollar store. A library full of books and a cafeteria full of food The return to the ins and outs of Riverdale Elementary was rote now that he’d gone through this four times before.

Every year, like clockwork, there was something that went awry. Jellybean’s early birth the night before first grade kept Jughead and his father anxiously waiting through the difficult birth. The day before second grade found Archie breaking his arm from falling out of the treehouse while Jughead broke his ankle trying to catch him. And last year found Reggie Mantle, his goons, and Betty Cooper, already overly zealous in her environmental awareness, sneaking into the school to release all class animals back into the wild.

(Still one of the highlights of life in this boring town, an even that many had tried, and failed, to top since.)

This year promised something different. Something lighter and better. Now that Reggie, Moose, and Jason had moved onto middle school Jughead finally began to believe he could enjoy lunch and recess. He tied his flannel around his waist, a decisive fashion choice for the more conservative halls of Riverdale, and stepped out into the cloudy morning light.

The crisp hint of fall tore through the oppressive heat of summer. He’d always loved the fall and the changing of the leaves, but mostly because of the fairs that brought fried foods and sugary treats along with it.

It was looking to be a good year.

That is, until he came upon the Andrews’ residence.

As he drew nearer, a soft keening sound called his attention towards the hedge row to his left. He was struck by the oddity that neither family would leave a small animal in such distress. Jughead glanced up at the Andrews’ porch, no Archie to be found. As he neared, he saw the light in Archie’s room was still dark. Next door, the Cooper’s residence was locked up tight against the outside world.

He glanced at his watch and found he was 15 minutes early, another oddity to the day considering his father had returned early enough from his nightly escapades to wake Jughead this morning. A quick glance proved he was the only living creature on Elm Street, leaving him with a moral dilemma he’d rather avoid. His better nature, and his curiosity got the better of him and he wandered towards the hedges to investigate. Still too short to peak over the bushes he squatted down and peered through the trunks.

Whatever it was he’d been expecting, it wasn’t a bright pink pair of overalls underneath a mass of blonde, shaking hair.

“Betty?”

The wailing paused, and she turned to look at him. Her face was covered in bright red splotches and tear tracks, a sight that still broke his heart of ice no matter how many times he’d seen it.

Swaying movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye and he squatted closer to the ground for a better look. A fringe of hair stood at attention on the top of her head, defying gravity. The overall look was as if a flamingo and a cockatoo had gotten into a fight and come out the other end as conjoined twins.

Jughead bit his cheek to keep from laughing. Betty’s lower lip trembled and new tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

He cleared his throat of humor before he spoke again. “What happened?”

The responding sniffle was enough of a warning Jughead was able to brace himself against the onslaught of verbiage he didn’t realize anyone was capable of this early in the morning.

“Cheryl and Jason came by to pick up Polly to go to school, even though Polly knows we’re not supposed to let anyone in the house if they’re not home, and Cheryl put her gum in my hair and Polly didn’t want to be late for her first day and Mom and Dad already were at work so I tried putting some of Polly’s hair stuff in my hair to get the gum out, but that didn’t work, so then I tried cutting it out and now I look like a weird space alien and Mom’s going to kill me and look at my hair it’s ruined forever and everybody’s gonna hate me -”

Betty came to a crashing stop, finally running out of air. Jughead started to speak, to try and tell her it wasn’t that bad, a little uneven and unique, but it still wouldn’t make her any different of a person, but she was already too far gone for any attempt at optimism.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she wailed. Her proclamation made to the world, she tucked her head into the crook of her elbow and resumed her crying.

Distressed at so many tears - he’d never been able to stand anyone crying, doubly so now that his baby sister was able to articulate, in excruciating detail, why she was crying - Jughead tried to think of something to cheer Betty up.

“I thought you liked school.”

This only made Betty turn away from him.

Well. Shit. Where was Archie when you needed him? Ah, right. Rushing around after sleeping through his third alarm.

“Do you want to -” Jughead trailed off, unable to find any words at all. Not even a ‘the.’

There was that one time in kindergarten, now that he thought about it, when he’d gotten gum in his hair. It wasn’t a malicious thing, not like Cheryl’s act of terror. Rather, Ethel had been chasing him on the playground, trying to get him to play house or something equally gross, and he’d tripped over his untied shoelaces. And Ethel had fallen on top of him, her big wad of Fruit Stripe gum landing in the space between his beanie and his hair.

His mother had thankfully been able to save the last thing he had from his favorite uncle. Jughead, on the other hand, had to be shaved almost bald after his father attempted to fix the problem himself.

But hadn’t there been something about peanut butter first? And hadn’t his mother made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just this morning?

Jughead reached into his backpack and pulled out the square container. Betty watched him, her tears now silent. He pulled off the lid and peeled the bread apart. Gingerly setting down the jelly half, he moved the peanut butter laden slice towards Betty.

“What about -”

She caught his wrist before he could get close to her hair. Through a sniffle, she reminded him, “The gum’s gone, Juggie.”

So what was the problem? His face must have telegraphed his confusion because Betty let out a choked laugh.

“I ruined my hair trying to fix it. If I got to school like this,” she gestured to her wrong sided mohawk, “everybody will make fun of me and I won’t have any friends.”

Still not sure what the problem was, Jughead put his sandwich back together and took a bite. “Me and Archie will still be your friends,” he said.

Betty snorted and tore a piece of his sandwich off. She popped it into her mouth and scrubbed at her cheeks.

“You two don’t count.” At his offended look, she added, “you two will always be my friends. I meant -”

“Everybody who counts.”

She sighed and nodded.

As painful as her words might sound, Jughead wasn’t offended by them. He knew what she meant, especially in a small town like this. The Jones’ had a reputation that had most people on the north side of the tracks clutching their pearls as they delighted in gossip about them, while the Andrews’ were a sturdy family without interest in rising through the ranks of small-town society. A society that bled down even to their children.

“You could wear a hat,” he suggested after a moment. “What about that Kermit one you got last year?”

She shook her head. “The house is locked. And even if I wanted to, Ms. Crabapple doesn’t let us wear hats.”

Jughead took another bite and chewed, his jaw turning the gears in his head. An idea brewed, one he hated with every ounce of his being. It meant giving up a part of himself, becoming a part of everyone he hated in school.

Across the hedge, Betty’s tears dripped onto her overalls. The hot pink dots stared at him expectantly. With a heavy sigh he pulled off his beanie and held it out to her. She reached for it, paused, and stared at him.

“Take it. I think you need it more than me today.”

Betty’s lower lip trembled, and Jughead steeled himself for another round of tears. A door slammed shut behind him and he heard Archie’s voice.

“But -”

“Take it, Cooper, of Archie’s gonna get an eyeful of your Guile cosplay and I’m pretty sure he’s more of a Chun-Li type of guy.”

Betty took the beanie and gingerly slipped it over her head. It covered her ill-inspired fringe and, unless she removed it, she looked like she did in the cold of winter.

“If anybody asks, I lost a bet,” Jughead said. He took the last bite of his sandwich, his stomach already protesting at the loss of lunch, and stood.

Archie approached them, none the wiser to Betty’s follicle foibles, and said his hello’s to both her and Jughead. They walked to school together that day, like they always had, and if anybody noticed Betty wearing a beanie, they didn’t comment, though Mr. Finch did make a snide comment about Jughead finally growing up.

(Best of all, Mrs. Cooper had sent Betty with an eggplant lasagna filled with three types of cheese, a lunch that Betty happily shared.)

That afternoon, they waited until Archie went inside to make the exchange.

“Thanks,” Betty said softly. She ran a hand through what was left of her hair and winced. “Mom’s going to kill me.”

Jughead shrugged and slipped the beanie back to its rightful place. The tension that had lined his body slipped away as it settled over his hair. “I think she’d be more angry with Polly for not helping you.”

“Maybe. Polly wouldn’t ever forgive me though.” She scuffed at the ground between them. “I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Like you said, we’re friends. I don’t want to have to make an effort to find new ones.”

“Right,” Betty laughed. “You’re not really good at that, huh?”

“The worst. I’ll see you tomorrow, Betts.”

“Night, Juggie.”

#riverdale fanfiction #have some flash fiction for your friday night #i only went back through this once #a miracle for me

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lost-n-stereo · 8 years

Text

A/N: After 1x07 I typed out a quick little text post (which you can read here) and it inspired me to make it a full-fledged fic about Jughead moving in with Fred & Archie. Hopefully this will help pass a little time until the new episode. Almost 5k words of Bughead fluff. Enjoy!

just looking for something (something like home)

He moves in with the Andrews men early on a Saturday morning.

Not that he could really call it moving in considering his entire life fits into a backpack but at least he’s got a room to call his own.

The basement, to be exact.

Fred sets up a cot in the corner, near boxes of Christmas decorations (he’s pretty sure those haven’t been touched since Archie’s mom left) and old rusty tools and lawn equipment. He sets his backpack on a rickety tool bench but doesn’t move to unpack.

“Sorry it’s so cold down here,” Fred is saying as he throws a fitted flannel sheet over the cot’s mattress. “We’ll get you a space heater or something before winter comes.”

“Alright,” Jughead says although he’s not really paying attention. It’s not that he’s not grateful for Fred’s generosity, he is but he can’t help but think about his dad at home alone. Probably drunk, even though he promised to get his act together.

Just a month, maybe two.

Not a chance in hell.

Jughead is glad Archie is at football practice because there’s a question on the tip of his tongue that he’s a little embarrassed to ask.

“Just curious,” he starts but his voice shakes a little and his hands are sweating. He runs them down the front of his pants and clears his throat. “Is there a uh… um…a girl policy?”

Judging from Fred’s expression he’s just as surprised Jughead asked as he is.

“A girl policy,” Fred repeats. “Well, Archie has girls over but they usually keep the door open. And no sleepovers.”

Jughead laughs and holds up his hands. “Yeah, of course. That’s not really what I was talking about. More just…in general.”

Fred gives him a knowing smile and it makes him want to melt into the hard concrete floor under his feet.

“Betty is more than welcome in this house whenever she wants. She always has been and that won’t change just because you’re dating.”

Dating.

What a foreign concept. It’s something he’s still getting used to, if he’s being honest. He’s never had a real girlfriend before and he’s not even sure he knows how to be a boyfriend.

Then again, Betty kissed him after he walked her home so he’s hoping that means he’s doing alright so far.

“Great,” he says a little too enthusiastically and he blushes a little when Fred grins. “Thanks, I mean. Betty is…”

“A great girl,” Fred finishes and Jughead nods. “You’re a lucky guy, Jug.”

He just laughs and shakes his head because that is a statement that is so unfairly untrue that if he didn’t laugh about it he’d probably cry.

***

A tapping noise wakes him up and he’s immediately uneasy.

The room is pitch black and unfamiliar. He takes a breath to calm his racing heart once he realizes that he’s just in the Andrews’ basement.

You’d think after a week he’d be used to it but that’s what happens when you’re basically homeless.

You try not to get used to any place because the fear of losing it is too great.

The tapping happens again and his phone lights up with a text at almost the same exact time. Betty’s smiling face is looking up at him from the screen and he sees that it’s almost three in the morning.

Open your window.

He chuckles and gets up, his pajama pants riding low on his hips as he steps over to the low window that faces the Andrews’ front yard.

Betty is kneeling next to it, using her phone as a flashlight, and Jughead wants to laugh and scold her at the same time.

So that’s exactly what he does.

“Elizabeth Cooper, you little minx,” he says with a faux stern voice when he opens the window. “Why are you outside in the middle of the night? You know it’s not safe.”

Betty rolls her eyes and moves so her face is half in the window. She’s close enough to kiss so he does, just a little peck because he finds it impossible to not kiss her whenever they are together.

“That’s why I’m outside,” she says with a smile when he pulls away and he wants to tell her to go back home where it’s safe but also he missed her today. She was busy with cheerleading practice and they only saw each other for brief moments at school.

Jughead turns around to check the stairs, knowing that Fred and Archie are both upstairs asleep but he’s only been here a few days and the last thing he wants to do is piss anyone off.

“I’d invite you inside but I don’t think Mr. Andrews would think too highly of me if I snuck the girl next door into his basement.”

His voice is teasing but he knows that she can read behind the lines of what he’s saying.

This home is temporary and I can’t screw it up.

Betty nods and leans inside again. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admits. “I thought maybe seeing you would…”

He cocks his head and smiles. “Would what?”

“Calm me.”

His heart does something funny in his chest and he feels warm all over despite the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt or his beanie, and there’s a cool wind coming through the open window.

“I calm you?” The idea that he could calm someone else is a little unnerving considering the fact that he hardly ever feels calm about anything. Ever.

She smiles sweetly at him and nods. “You do, yeah. And I think after one more kiss I might just be able to fall asleep.”

“Well in that case.” He grins and tugs her down so her face is level with his and he kisses her softly. “Who am I to deny you a good night’s rest?”

He steals one more kiss because he can and she sighs happily before pulling herself out of the window.

“Goodnight, Juggie.”

He watches her walk across the lawn and sneak back into her house, making sure she’s safely inside before closing the window.

The taste of her candy lip gloss is still on his lips when he lays back down.

“Night, Betty.”

***

Jellybean calls him one night when he’s writing an article for the B&G, some puff piece that Betty asked him to write and if it wasn’t for the stack of burgers she promised he probably would have said no, girlfriend or not.

“Hello, brother.”

He laughs at JB’s formal greeting. “Hello, sister. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“I need advice,” she sighs and he rolls his eyes because she’s 10. What kind of advice does a 10 year old need.

“Hit me,” he tells her, turning off his laptop so he can give her his full attention.

There are only three women in the world he cares about and she’s at the very top of the list. If there’s a way he can help her with something, she’s his number one priority.

“Well there’s this boy…”

He groans. “Jellybean.”

“Hey! I said to call me JB, remember? I’m not a baby anymore, Jug.”

“I know,” he laughs. “But I’m really not the person to be asking when it comes to boys. Why don’t you just ask mom?”

JB sighs and his heart constricts, knowing the reason before she even says it. “She’s always busy, Juggie. With work and now classes. She’s hardly ever home.”

Jughead grips his phone in his hand, his anger building as he thinks about his baby sister home alone.

“And you? What do you do when she’s not there?”

He can practically hear her shrug. “I dunno, play video games. Play fetch with Hot Dog. Normal stuff.”

“Alone? Or does someone come watch you.”

When she hesitates he’s afraid he’s going to break his phone from gripping it so hard. “Not always. Sometimes Mrs. Adams stays with me after school or on the weekends.”

“Damn it,” he says without meaning to and he ignores JB’s gasp at his use of a swear word. The girl can listen to old school classic rock all day long but the second you say damn or shit she’s losing her mind. “I can’t help you with the boy stuff, JB, but I think I know someone who can.”

He tells her he’ll call her back and without putting his phone down he types in the only number he knows by heart.

“Juggie.”

Betty’s sweet voice drifts through the phone and into his ear.

“Hey, I need a favor.”

She laughs. “I’m all ears.”

He explains JB’s situation, boy trouble that she can’t talk to their mom about, and Betty immediately asks for her phone number.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice cracking a little because damn this girl and her ability to fix problems he didn’t even know he had.

“Of course, Jug. I’ll call her right now.”

A little over an hour later his phone lights up with a text from his sister.

Thank u!!! Betty is the best. I love her soooo much!

He chuckles as he thumbs in a response but really there’s only one thing on repeat in his mind.

Me too, kid. Me too.

***

The investigation goes cold for a couple weeks.

Betty spends a lot of her time at Veronica’s with Polly and although Jughead is welcome there he tends to stay away because there’s only so much baby talk he can take before he wants to take a rattle and shove it through his ear.

Archie asks him on a Wednesday if he wants to go camping over the weekend.

“It’s November,” Jughead deadpans. “Isn’t it too cold for camping?”

Archie just shrugs. “Aren’t you sick of just sitting around all the time? Let’s go do something fun for once.”

He agrees because apparently he’s agreeable now and when he tells Betty at lunch that he’ll be gone all weekend she actually beams.

“Wow,” he snickers. “Don’t be so sad about me leaving, Betts.”

Betty rolls his eyes and kisses his cheek. He tries to pretend he doesn’t see Archie look away but it’s hard when his best friend is so blatantly obvious about it.

“I’m not happy that you’re leaving for the weekend. I’m happy that you’re doing something for yourself. You never get to have fun, Juggie. This will be good for you.” She looks over at Archie and then back at him. “Good for both of you.”

He knows what she’s saying without her actually having to say it. Things have been tense for the past few weeks and that’s putting it mildly. While Archie isn’t openly against them dating he’s not exactly for it either. So far it hasn’t started any fights but Jughead can feel it brewing, like a living thing under the surface, ready to pop up and rear its ugly head to tear everything apart.

Or maybe he’s just being dramatic. It’s a very good possibility.

“You’re right,” he says and she nods as if to say Duh and it makes him chuckle. He stands up and drops a kiss on her nose.

“Who wants more tacos?”

***

Three days later he’s freezing his ass off in the middle of the woods with nothing but a cheap sleeping bag and a fire to keep him warm.

“Whose idea was this again?” Archie’s teeth are chattering as he wraps a wool blanket around him in front of the fire.

“Yours, dumbass.” Jughead ducks when Archie throws a marshmallow at his head. “And here I thought your basement was cold.”

Archie frowns as he roasts a hot dog over the open fire. “Yeah, sorry about that. My dad’s supposed to…”

“Get me a heater, I know.”

Archie nods and Jughead hates the weird tension between the two of them.

“Hey Arch? Are we, you know, okay?”

He feels like an idiot for asking as soon as the words are out of his mouth but honestly it needed to be asked. And he really does hope that they are.

“What? Yeah, of course.” Archie turns the hot dog over when one side blackens. “I mean, I was a little freaked out at first when you and Betty started…”

“Yeah, I know.” He thinks back to the dream he had weeks ago, his best friend walking into a kitchen with a knife in his back, and it makes him shudder. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m choosing her over you or that she’s choosing me over you because you know that’s not the case, right?”

His friend is quiet, just staring at that damn blackened hot dog, and Jughead is about to snap his fingers in front of Archie’s face to get his attention when he looks up and smiles.

“Obviously, yes I know. We’re all good, Jug.”

Archie smiles again, good-natured as always, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Jughead is too much of a coward to ask him why.

***

“So there’s a dance coming up.”

Betty is lying on her bed doing homework and she looks over at him with a small smile playing across her pink lips. “So I’ve heard.”

He clears his throat, still nervous even though they have been together for a good amount of time now. Something about her makes him feel off kilter even though the very essence of her completely centers him.

It’s bizarre and something that he’s not sure he’ll ever understand but he doesn’t hate it at all.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go and if you do, you know. Would you want to go with me?”

His words are rushed and unsure. Maybe it’s a given that couples do these things together without having to ask but he’s never been one half of a couple, hell he’d never even used the word couple until a few months ago and he honestly has no idea how any of this couple stuff works.

“I figured we’d go together,” Betty says, getting up off the bed and leaning one hip against her desk, where he was trying and failing to do calculus because all he could think about was asking her to this damn dance.

“Yeah?”

She laughs quietly and nods. “But thank you for asking. That’s incredibly sweet and yes. I would love to go to the winter dance with you, Jughead.”

It makes him blush, which he despises because he’s supposed to be cooler than this. Betty brings out this other side to him, a softer side, but instead of it making him feel weak he just feels stronger. More alive.

“Cool,” he says because he doesn’t have a better word. She doesn’t seem to mind, just tilts her head down for a kiss that he gladly reciprocates. “It’s a date.”

***

Winter comes without warning.

One day they can go outside without heavy coats or umbrellas and the next they are searching their closets for snow boots and beanies.

Luckily he’s always wearing one of those so he’s halfway there already.

“It’s so cold,” Betty says, her hands wrapped around a paper cup of hot cocoa that he picked up for her on the way to lunch. “Why is it so cold?”

Veronica snorts into her latte. “Because the hell that is Riverdale finally froze over, that’s why.”

They are all sitting in the library, the weather too cold to eat outside but none of them really wanting to brave the cafeteria with its cliques and politics. Kevin and Veronica are practically sitting on top of each other on an armchair to stay warm and Jughead doesn’t miss the look Archie throws at Ronnie even though he obviously has nothing to worry about when it comes to Kevin.

“That’s new,” Jughead murmurs to Betty, who’s sitting with one leg tucked under her on the plush couch they are sitting on. Their thighs are touching hip to knee and the contact makes his body hum with heat. He doesn’t think he’d notice if the roof blew off and it was snowing directly on them.

Betty follows his gaze to a jealous looking Archie, who’s shooting daggers at their friends. “It’s not new,” she says with a quiet laugh. “Archie just can’t make up his mind. Val or Ronnie. Ronnie or Val. You know he’s never been good at making decisions.”

“Or with women,” Jughead deadpans and everyone looks over when Betty snorts out loud.

“Sorry,” she says and Jughead has to hide his laugh behind his hand. “Inside joke.”

“So B,” Veronica untangles herself from Kevin’s lap and perches herself on the arm of the chair. “Anything exciting happening in the world of you?”

“Jughead and I are going to the winter dance together,” she says with a bright smile and he loves that she reaches over to intertwine her fingers with his. “Are you guys going?”

Archie shoots a look at Veronica, that the brunette misses, and Jughead rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Arch. Who are you taking to the dance?” Betty squeezes his hand but if it’s in warning or because she wants to laugh, he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, um. I’m not sure yet.”

Veronica looks over at him, surprise written all over her face. “You’re not? What about Val?”

Jughead tries to read her question, see if there’s any underlying question there but damn if that girl isn’t a vault. She doesn’t wear her emotions on her features and he can’t tell if she’s genuinely curious or if there’s a deeper meaning behind her question.

He hates not being able to figure people out.

“The Pussycats are playing the dance so she’ll be busy most of the night so I don’t know. I might ask someone else.”

“Anyone we know?”

Everyone in the room is watching their interaction with great interest and Jughead thinks it’s pretty comical, the way their heads all turn from one person to other like a tennis match they can’t tear their eyes away from.

The ginger blushes, which is hilarious in its own right, and Jughead thinks if Archie’s face flushes anymore you won’t be able to tell where his forehead ends and his hair begins.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Betty nudges him and he leans over so she can whisper in his ear. “Should we somehow get them to go together?”

Jughead feigns a gasp. “Betts, you want to interfere with our friends’ love lives? Scandalous.” She taps him on the head with her pen and he laughs. “If you want me to talk to Archie, I will.”

She beams at him like he’s just said the magic words and maybe he has. He’s so stupid for this girl that if she asked him to jump off a building he’d probably say yes if she gave him a good enough reason. Hell, probably even if she didn’t give him a good reason.

Everyone pops out of their seats when the bell rings but he calls Archie over before he has a chance to rush off to class. Archie just gives him a weird look when he waits for everyone to leave before speaking.

“So are you going to ask Ronnie to the dance?”

Archie blanches. “Veronica…what? Why would you think that?”

“Give me a break, dude.” Jughead slaps his oldest friend on the shoulder as they start the walk to their next classes. “You were putting off some weird vibes when she asked you about Val. You should ask her.”

Archie is quiet until they reach the hallway where they have to split up to go to their separate classes.

“Think she’d say yes?”

Jughead shrugs. “I don’t know but it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

He gives his friend one more pat on the shoulder before heading off to calc.

***

A black limo is waiting outside of the Andrews house and he’s got a new suit to match.

Well, it’s not new but it’s new to him and this one actually fits unlike the one he wore to the funeral.

“Looking good, gentleman.”

Fred walks out of the kitchen with his phone out, ready to take pictures, and Jughead and Archie groan simultaneously.

“Dad, the girls aren’t even here yet.”

Fred chuckles and points to the fireplace. “What? Two guys can’t take a photo together? Go stand over there.”

The boys roll their eyes but do as their told. Jughead is just happy that no one else is here to see this ridiculousness.

“Well aren’t you two just the pinnacle of prom perfection?”

Veronica’s voice is laced with amusement and Jughead and Archie share matching groans again. Archie is quick to recover though when he sees Veronica standing in her dress, her black hair shining as she beams up at him.

“You look beautiful, Ronnie.” He leans down to brush his lips across her cheek and Jughead can see her blush from where he’s standing.

“Thank you.” Her voice is almost a whisper and honestly, if they aren’t dating before New Year’s he’ll eat his hat.

“Where’s Betty?”

Before he can even get the words out his girlfriend rounds the corner and he swears that he stops breathing all together. Her hair is down and brushed over one shoulder, a change from the high ponytail she almost always wears and her pale lavender dress leaves her shoulders bare.

“Wow,” he murmurs and she must hear him because she blushes furiously before coming to stand in front of him.

“You look pretty wow yourself,” she says as she runs her hands down the front of his jacket.

“Yeah, Forsythe,” Veronica teases. “You clean up pretty nice.”

“Thanks,” he says without looking away from Betty. “And if you call me that again, I will end you. Just so you know.”

Veronica lets out a breathy laugh. “That would require you to take your eyes off Betty which frankly, I don’t see you doing anytime soon.”

“She’s got a point,” he says quietly and Betty blushes again. “Betty, you look incredible.”

Her hands tighten around his lapels. “Thank you. So do you. This suit…” She bites her bottom lip and he almost loses his mind.

“You like?”

She nods. “I do. I love, actually.”

His heart beats so fast it feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest when the word love tumbles from her pretty lips.

Any day now he’s going to tell her how he feels. Maybe even any minute.

He’s pretty sure that she already knows.

***

Tap, tap, tap.

The noise wakes him up and he rubs his eyes as he looks down at his phone. They only got home from the dance an hour and a half ago and it’s nearing two in the morning. He had just nodded off to sleep when the telltale sound of the girl next door at his window woke up him.

Betty is waiting outside, hair and makeup still done from the dance but she’s wrapped in a pair of fuzzy pajama pants and long sleeve thermal shirt.

“What are you doing, silly girl?” He asks when he opens the window. “It’s late.”

“Meet me in my backyard in five minutes,” she tells him, ducking into give him a quick kiss before rushing back over to her house.

He chuckles as he slides on his jacket and beanie, lacing his boots before taking the basement’s back door out into the yard. The hinges creak on the Cooper’s back gate and he looks up at her parent’s bedroom to make sure it’s still dark before sneaking through it and into her backyard.

“Over here,” Betty calls softly and he uses his phone to light his path over to where she’s lying down on a blanket.

“What are you doing?”

She pats the blanket next to her and he grins as he drops to the ground beside her. “I didn’t want this night to end,” she says quietly, like it’s a secret, and maybe it is. Maybe it’s a secret between the two of them, something that they can share because he didn’t want the night to end either.

Dancing with her, his arms wrapped tightly around her on the dance floor. Everyone knowing once and for all that he was hers and she was his. Kissing her whenever he wanted. It was probably the best night of his life.

“The dance was fun,” she says as she puts an extra blanket over their legs.

“Mhm,” he murmurs against her hair when she rests her head against his shoulder. “You’re a much better dancer than I thought you’d be,” he jokes and she pokes him with her pinky.

“That’s my line,” she teases.

“I have many talents you don’t know about.” Betty shivers and he pulls the blanket up around her more. “Betty…”

“Mmm?” When he looks down her eyes are closed, a serene smile playing over her lips, and he wishes he could somehow bottle this moment and use it during all of the moments in his life when she’s not around. When he’s scared or lonely or angry. She’s like a good mood pill, a ray of sunshine on a rainy day. The light to his dark. He doesn’t want to lose her.

He can’t lose her.

His voice is a whisper against her hair. “Betty, I love you. I think, in some ways, I always have.”

She doesn’t still like he was afraid she would, doesn’t make a disgusted noise or look away. She simply looks up at him, that beautiful smile still on her lips, and kisses him softly.

“I love you, too.”

Four words, seared into his memory. Branded onto his heart.

He closes his eyes and sighs. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of his chest that he didn’t even know was there.

They fall asleep under a December moon, stars twinkling above them as the winter wind swirls around them.

He’s not a poet but he is a writer and as his eyes drift closed he thinks he could write an entire novel about how he feels right at this moment. Safe and warm and loved.

Four words have given him a four letter word he’s been unable to find his entire life but he’s found it here in the arms of a girl that radiates everything good in the world.

Home.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #jughead and betty #pure fluff ya'll #so sweet it'll rot your teeth #fanfic #riverdale #100

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