Chapter 1: Dirty Dishes
“ You’re having sex Jones.” Toni remarks casually, while dunking what’s left of Betty’s remarkable doughnuts in some milk on a Monday morning.
Jughead pretty much chokes on his coffee, sputters uncontrollably and despite his lungs trying to recover from a near aspiration trauma manages to sneak a glance in Betty’s direction.
Betty who is hunched up in front of the sink washing dishes and apart from the slight pinkening of the exposed skin on her neck and back, is giving off an air of complete nonchalance.
Toni and her fucking Monday morning one liners.
“ I’m not having sex.” Jughead manages to wheeze out.
Toni snorts.” You know for the amount of reaction I just got out of you, you could at least put some more effort in your lying capabilities. Anyway...” she leaves off mid sentence and gets up to hand over her now empty coffee mug to Betty who continues with the dishwashing like her life depends on it.
“ Anyway...” Toni continues and Jughead is suddenly on edge again,” you have a number of tells Jones. And from what I’m reading of your body language, I can tick off every single one of Juggie’s having sex tells.”
“ Should I be flattered or concerned by the degree of your investment in my sex life Toni? “ Jughead deadpans.
Toni however chooses to ignore him completely and turns to Betty instead.
“ You wanna know what his tells are Betty?” she asks gleefully.
“ Say the word tells one more time Topaz...”
Now would be the time, Jughead muses, where Betty the platonic friend/room-mate/study-buddy would turn around and join in all the cheer and fun they are supposedly having at his expense. However Betty the completely non-platonic girl he’s banging/ fuck-buddy/ girlfriend??? Is doing a terrific job at turning a wonderful shade of red with every passing second.
It’s a miracle Toni is still oblivious to their mutual guilt with the show they’re putting up for her.
“ So Jonesy boy here...” She begins again.
“ Hey!” Jughead cuts her off and there’s a low warning edge to his voice that has Betty finally turning around and making eye contact with him for the first time since this conversation from hell started.
There’s quiet amusement in her eyes but also a soft reassurance that has him breathing easy. She has this under control for all the shade changing that was going on just a second ago.
“ Toni...” she begins in her award worthy ‘ Betty Cooper I’m onto damage control’ voice,” as much as I’d love to hear about these tells, you need to get your ass moving if you don’t want to be late for your photography class again like last time.”
Toni curses and rushes to grab her bag and jacket.” This isn’t over kid!” she barks in his direction and with a hurried” Catch ya later losers!” she’s gone in a flurry of fishnet and boots and pink hair.
Betty turns to him raising her perfectly arched eyebrows,” You have tells?” she laughs out. It’s such a bubbly mirthful sound he wants to choke on it all over again.
“ I’m going to fucking kill her if she says anything.” He says, exiting his spot by the counter and stalking towards her.
She watches him approach and suddenly there’s a strange tension rippling between them. They’ve been doing this for almost three weeks now but the fact that Toni’s catching on to something is adding to the risk. It makes him want her even more if that’s even possible.
“ Hmm...” Betty murmurs, watching him intently as he comes to stand in front of her, very close so that he’s almost touching her but not quite.
“ It’s a good thing she doesn’t know any of yours though,” he says, voice low eyes fixed on her lips, pink and luscious and if he’s not mistaken bee stung from what he’d done to her last night.
She scoffs but he can tell she’s nervous from the way she’s clutching the marble counter as his hands bracket her on each side.
“ I don’t have any Jones.”
“ Sure you do,” he counters easily, dipping his head to press his tongue to the underside of her jaw and licking a strip to her earlobe. A blush appears on her cheeks and neck, disappearing below to the skin hidden by her canary yellow camisole.
“ There’s the fact that you’ve developed a fascination for watching me eat.” He whispers and she gasps at what he’s implying.” And the fact that you can’t stop biting your lips when you’re around me.”
She’s doing it even now.
“ Stop biting your fucking lip Betty,” he growls and she stops doing it immediately, pupils dilated, mouth slightly open and he’s kissing her the next second, grinding against her so that she lets out a moan that reverberates between the shared space of their mouths.
“ Juggie,” she whines out,” we’ve both got class...”
“ Fifteen minutes baby...” he groans cupping her face and dropping soft kisses on her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose,” fifteen minutes is all I’m asking.”
She pushes him back and he’s about to let out a disappointed sigh when she pulls off the camisole she’s wearing to reveal the pink bralette underneath and hops up onto the kitchen counter. He can’t stop grinning like an idiot when she pulls him to her again wrapping her legs around his waist.
“ Be quick Jones or you’ll pay. And let’s see which one of your tells we can tick off this time!”
Chapter 2: The Art Of blending
A little cooking class and the many uses of a blender
Another drabble from the tumblr prompts.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He has no idea why he signed up for this class. Or maybe he has an inkling of an idea. It’s really because eating takeout all day everyday is taking it’s toll on his wallet. And it has nothing to do with the gorgeous blonde sitting next to him taking notes in her immaculately kept journal in a neat loopy scrawl that he finds ridiculously endearing. Nope, nothing to do with her at all.
She keeps nudging him every time the lady adds an ingredient that’s particularly nasty. He can practically feel his taste buds shrivelling up and dying as the increasingly healthy and decreasingly appealing recipe takes shape.
So far he’s written Yuck, nope, nope, nah on his notebook next to a small list of ingredients. Betty seems to find this both amusing and scandalous. Her own page has a neatly listed column of ingredients and a thorough outline of the steps required to make the horrendous veggie casserole that’s being taught in class today.
Not that Betty needs to be in a cooking class. She’s already a world class cook in his eyes ( in addition to the million other qualities he associates with her). She says it’s because she wants to learn some newer, simpler recipes so it’ll be easier to cook in the pathetic excuse of a kitchen that she has access to. He knows for a fact that’s bullshit and the only reason she signed up was to encourage him to do the same when he had first expressed his woes on eating too much take out and being unable to cook anything other than eggs and ramen. Scratch that, she had first actually volunteered to cook him weekly meals as long as he promised to actually eat them. Jughead had refused of course. As much as he wanted to take her up on that offer, he knew it wasn’t her job to make sure he was eating. She had enough on her plate as it was.
So here he is sitting on a Saturday afternoon practicing a variety of meals he never intends to cook let alone eat only to indulge the girl he can’t stop thinking about. She’s making eyes at him even now, trying to goad him into taking an interest in the proceedings of the class.
Once the cooking process starts however he finds himself actually enjoying it. He likes chopping the vegetables and notices Betty watching his hand movements with interest.
“ You’re good at that,” she whispers and maybe his eyes are doing tricks on him but she appears to be slightly flustered.
“ Yeah well,” he whispers back,” that’s one good thing that came out of working at a diner all through high school.”
She nods but continues to watch his hands mesmerised, absentmindedly following the orders that the lady taking the class is monotonously giving ( her name’s Linda he reminds himself). When she asks everyone to dump the tomatoes and garlic in the blender and make a paste, he passes his chopping board to Betty who tips it to slide the tomatoes in the blender.
He’s already started chopping the onions when Betty still absentminded, turns on the blender. It comes to life with a guttural groan and Betty shrieks as a whirlpool of tomatoes and garlic emerges from it’s depths, dousing them in squished vegetable juices and for a second Jughead has no idea why he’s being rained with tomato garlic paste until he realizes that Betty, under the apparent spell of her fascination with his hands, has forgotten to put the lid on the blender.
“ Betty!” he hisses, very aware of the entirety of the class snickering at their current state of misfortune,” the lid!”
“ Oh my God!” Betty wails, trying to look for the lid amongst the various utensils, spices and vegetables scattered on their worktable as Jughead tries to stop the erupting blender using his hand,” I’m such an idiot!”
They finally locate the coveted lid and with a loud triumphant shout Jughead finally puts it on the blender. It’s really not much use anymore since the jug is nearly empty and it’s contents are now coating most of their faces, their clothes and the table.
Betty seems to have been stupefied into silence with a mortified expression on her face as Linda clucks her tongue and gives a shrill lecture on paying attention and quoting this very incident as a prime example of the kind of hazards that being careless in a kitchen can lead to, much to the amusement of the rest of the class.
Betty miserably wipes at her face with the towel he hands her and reveals skin that is flushed as red as the paste she’s removed. Jughead glares at the woman who is still directing judgemental comments towards them and suddenly he’s had enough.
“ Come on Betty,” he says loudly, “ let’s just go.”
Betty gapes at him trying to stop him from collecting the soppy notebooks and pens they’d brought along and pulling her to her feet.
She doesn’t resist further when he intertwines his hands with her and firmly pulls her along and just as they’re exiting the room, loudly says,” This class was rubbish anyway!”
He has the satisfaction of seeing Linda scowl.
They end up going to his apartment which is a short walk away. Inside he lends her a t-shirt and a pair of boxers and tells her to shower while he makes them something to eat. Betty has somewhat recovered from the shock of having completely destroyed their chances of returning to the class. She takes the offered clothes morosely and disappears behind the tiny bathroom door. Jughead whips up some trusted scrambled eggs and toast and once Betty is done, takes a quick shower too.
They eat their lunch of eggs and toast while he tries persistently to cheer her up and once she does cheer up, tries persistently to ignore the way his heart swoops every time she smiles and her eyes crinkle, or the way his throat feels clogged up when she touches him while talking, or the way the quiet little animal in him purrs because she looks so good in his clothes.
It’s when they’re doing the dishes together that she says,” I still can’t believe what happened. I’ve never done anything so careless in my entire life.”
Jughead chuckles,” You’ve got to admit it was funny though. I kind of feel bad for Linda now.”
Betty giggles at that and then says mischievously,” It really was your fault you know. I had no idea you were so good with your hands-“ she flushes and looks up to find him smirking with eyebrows raised,”-I didn’t mean that- I mean you have great hands not that you don’t- just you’re good at chopping with them- also you type so it’s not that I haven’t noticed your hands before-“
He reaches forward and instead of second guessing himself like he’s done nearly all his life, simply pulls her closer and stops her rambling with a kiss stamped hard on her mouth. She blinks several times and then suddenly her hands are fisting in his t-shirt, pulling him even closer and the warm sweetness of her mouth is everything he’s dreamed it would be and yet so much more.
She deepens the kiss and the jolt of electric current that hits him straight in the gut has him lifting her up suddenly and she lets out a startled gasp when he places her on the counter.
He pulls back first then follows with another softer sweeter kiss, then another and another and then finally placing one on her forehead pulls her in for a hug.
“ You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He tells her quietly.
She sighs happily and pulls back,” You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to do it.”
“ Yes Juggie,” Betty breathes against his lips,” Didn’t you wonder why you had me so distracted.”
Jughead lets out a low laugh,” For the number of times you’ve distracted me Betty Cooper, I’d say this was small pay back.”
The next Saturday Linda receives a small bouquet of cherry tomatoes with an anonymous thank you note and a bottle of tomato garlic paste. She wonders all day who might have sent it.
Enjoy! I'm @honestlyhappymoon if you'd like to say hi on tumblr
Chapter 3: Closed doors and shared spaces
Another tumblr prompt...Jughead gets locked out of his appartment:) Enjoy!
Being locked out of his apartment at 2 am sucks but the fact that Archie is responsible for this simply serves to add salt to his wounds. That man has been useless with a capitol “U” during the whole shifting fiasco. And now that it’s time to reap the rewards of all the manual labour Jughead’s been forced through, his red haired best friend has the nerve to not only lock him out but turn a deaf ear to all his frantic banging.
It seems Archie is the only one deaf to his persistent attempts at getting the door opened because so far he’s had a total of seven people give him the stink eye and tell him in no uncertain terms that they’re going to sign a petition to have him removed from the building.
He feels a sense of complete and utter despair settle deep into his bones at the prospect of spending the night out in the freezing corridor. What a way to celebrate his first ever apartment, he thinks bitterly as he settles down on the floor next to the door.
He’s miserable and cold. It’s quiet and still given the hour, when he realizes suddenly there’s soft music playing behind one of the doors at the end of the corridor. A small spark of hope has him getting up and trudging nervously towards the source of the music.
It’s the last door in their row and he remembers some dude called Mike lives there. He’d run into them several times while they’d been moving and had seemed like one of the gym bro types Archie had a tendency to befriend. Certainly not Jughead’s go to emergency contact but in desperate times he figures he’ll take a chance. The dude had been decent enough.
He knocks at the door trying to figure out what exactly he’s going to say to Mike. If the guy’s on his own, Jughead may just be able to borrow the couch. If he’s got a room mate or girlfriend, he can at least ask to borrow a blanket. Or another jacket. A warm towel. Anything.
The door finally opens after a fourth attempt at knocking ( he’s not even trying to be subtle anymore. If this person is going to refuse him charity he will do so to his face).
The person who peeps out a little warily is not Mike.
It’s a girl. A gorgeous looking girl. Who happens to have luscious blonde hair. And lovely green eyes. Definitely not a Mike.
She raises an arched brow at him and he is mortified to find himself flushing.
“ Hi,” he says in a strangled voice before he can make a further fool of himself,” Is Mike home?”
The girl blinks at him several times and then asks,” I’m sorry who?”
“ Mike.” Jughead repeats although the sense of dread deep in his gut is already telling him this isn’t Mike’s apartment and he’s made a complete ass of himself in front of this blonde beauty at 2:30 am.
“ This isn’t Mike’s apartment,” the girl says crossing her arms over her chest. His eyes flit momentarily to said chest, find that it is an exceptionally beautiful sight to behold beneath a tight fitted lilac t-shirt, and then flit back up to her face, only to realize she’s caught him ogling and is now regarding him with an expression of what is probably contempt.
“ I’m sorry.” He finally sighs dejectedly,” I thought Mike lived here. Sorry to bother you really. Good night.”
He nods and turns abruptly on his heels, ready to go drown himself in the first puddle he can find. He’s taken about three steps towards his own door when she calls out, “Hey!”
“ Yeah,” Jughead says turning around immediately, hope tingling in his chest.
She’s still looking a little wary but her voice is soft when she asks,” Is there a reason you’re looking for Mike this time of night?”
Jughead considers briefly lying to her and passing the whole thing off as a joke. But she seems genuinely concerned and the corridor seems to be getting chillier by the second. The likelihood of him looking like a total loser in front of her is 100 percent but so is the risk of freezing his ass off.
Fuck it, he thinks.
“ I got locked out of my apartment.” He says and the small curve of her lips has him adding indignantly,” My room-mate has someone over and locked me out ok!”
The girl giggles and Jughead would love to tell her off for laughing blatantly at his state of misfortune but her laugh is so damn lovely he finds himself just staring at her stupidly. How has he never seen her before?
“ Ok so let me guess, you need to crash someplace hence the search for this Mike person?”
“ Yeah.” He says then adds,” I don’t really know him, know him, but we’ve met several times while we were shifting this weekend and well you guessed the rest.”
Her eyes spark up with interest,” Wait you’re one of the new guys that shifted this weekend? You wouldn’t be Archie’s room-mate would you?”
Jughead nearly grimaces but checks himself in time. Of course. The hot blonde would know who Archie fucking Andrews is within three days of their move. It’s so typical.
“ Yeah,” he says, then thinking he might as well stab himself deeper and get it over with, adds,” I’m Jughead. Archie’s room-mate.”
The girl smiles at him showing off pearly white teeth and he would sit down and write a sonnet on how perfectly aligned they are if he wasn’t already trying to desperately quench the sense of disappointment blooming in his gut.
“ Well Jughead I’m Betty Cooper. And you should probably come inside because I’m partly responsible for your state of homelessness.” She says and Jughead gapes at her.
“ What? How?”
Betty’s already moving aside and opening the door wider, revealing a pair of insanely long, insanely pretty legs in neon pink terry cloth shorts. Jughead is so distracted by this sight that he has to remind himself not to drool.
He’s behaving like a fucking Neanderthal and it’s so untypical of him even his eye roll is doing an eye roll at him.
“ I may or may not have introduced my room-mate Veronica to Archie, who happens to be the other occupant of your apartment at the moment.”
Jughead’s mouth falls open.” Archie’s already sleeping with one of our neighbours? I’m going to fucking kill him!”
Betty looks at him amused,” Seems like an old habit. Should I be worried for my friend?”
She’s in the small kitchen adjoining the living space. The whole apartment is a copy of their own in terms of plan. But other than that it’s the singular most cleanest, homey looking place he’s ever been in. He’s going to have to take some notes on home decor from Betty.
“ I really wouldn’t tell you that would I?” He says and it has her looking up at him with a quirky smile while she pours milk into a pan and sets it to warm on the stove.
“ I actually know Archie from college.” Betty says and Jughead narrows his eyes at her.
“ You do?”
“ Yeah,” she laughs,” I had the deep misfortune of being partnered with him on a number of group projects when we were at NYU”
Jughead snorts,” Ok...I know what that entails.”
Betty grins at him,” Yeah well, Ronnie on the other hand was thrilled to meet him at the laundry downstairs and I only had to introduce those two...the rest is history.”
“ Huh,” Jughead muses,” small world.”
“ Yeah. Did you also know the four of us are going out for drinks this weekend?”
Jughead blinks at her several times.
“ He doesn’t really keep you in the loop does he.”
“ It’s not that,” he mutters and then lets out a surprised sound when she passes him a mug of steaming hot chocolate milk.
“ Thanks. You didn’t have to.” He says sipping at the drink gratefully as it hits his taste buds and makes him hum contentedly at the rich smooth chocolatey taste of it.
“ No problem,” Betty gestures waving towards the couch, which Jughead takes as an indication to sit. His night has gone from 0 to 180 degrees for the better.
“ You were saying?” Betty prompts.
“ Yeah, umm...I think Archie may have mentioned a date and plans for drinks. I’ve been kind of busy at work these last few days, which is why I got locked out in the first place and probably why I don’t know this whole development with your room-mate.”
Betty smiles and nods at him. “ Well my couch is available since Veronica won’t be turning up any time soon. And I’d suggest you keep your keys with you next time since this is likely to be a regular occurrence.” This is accompanied with a grin that makes her look impossibly girlish and lovely.
Jughead sighs. Both at his predicament and the way his heart is quickening every time this girl smiles. But for now he’ll take the couch and the hot chocolate and thank his lucky stars the door was Betty Cooper’s and not Mike’s.
Chapter 4: Red
1st drabble of thirty inspired by @paperlesscrown's fun idea...Song Fic writing challenge on tumblr.
Day 1: fic based on a song with a colour in the title.
Song: Red by Taylor Swift
He brings a new perception to the meaning of colour.
Jughead Jones: wearer of dark flannel and darker jeans; moody, broody loner boy with his bruised knuckles and bruised eyes- climbs through her window one day and kisses her- and it’s like her whole world explodes with fucking rainbows.
She’s been labelled good girl, girl next door, girl in the pastel sweaters all her life. It’s safe-there’s no denying it. Safe and comfortable. Sort of what thinking about Archie had been like. Easy. No complications whatsoever.
There is nothing safe or easy about him but God he makes her feel alive. Jughead brings something with him that first time he comes up the ladder- maybe his beanie is a talisman- and it’s like she’d been under some kind of horrible spell this whole time and he’s finally kissed her awake.
She still wears her pastel pinks. He sticks to his midnight blues. Riverdale is black and white, Northside and Southside, Evil versus Good. But when they’re together, his Romeo to her Juliet she can see everything in colour. The black and white disappears and she’s fucking Dorothy Gale just stepped into Oz with all the glorious burst of colour in a polychrome universe.
She loses him for a little bit somehow. For all their desperate, wondrous moments of love-Riverdale with it’s terrible darkness tears them apart for a time. Her world goes back to monochrome and the gnawing emptiness that comes with heartbreak. He wears a black jacket with a green snake on it and kisses another girl with pink hair. She hates all the flashes of colour she can see. Everything becomes dark and spirals.
She feels like she’s drowning but then Jughead tells her breaking up with her was the biggest mistake he ever made. He tells her nothing has gone right since that day and she doesn’t know how to feel about that, but there’s a clearing in the sky where the sun is peeking in golden, after days and days of thunder. She’ll take it.
Their minds at least are one again and she can finally breathe- she’s in charge, she knows what to do. They solve the mystery of the missing head and it may not have changed much but at least it’s a tentative start.
She’s wearing her pink again sitting on his couch. He’s back in his blue, the serpent jacket gone and she thinks maybe this is how it will always be. She misses that brilliant rainbow but it’s ok-she can live with the little colour that’s back in her life. She says she should start heading home.
But then he asks her to stay. He looks at her, that same desperate longing for her in his icy blues and says, “ Stay.”
She does and he loves her. She loves him. And everything is red. A bright glorious burning red.
Chapter 5: Thirty minute love affair
2nd drabble from the song fic series.
A fic based on a song with a number in the title.
Song: Thirty minute love affair by Paloma Faith.
He’s sitting dazed on the toilet seat, his clothes a mess, dick still hanging out of his pants while the dazzling blonde buttons up her blouse and smooths out her skirt. It’s hard to imagine he’d had her writhing sinfully against him just now- moaning his name like he was a fucking rock star. He’d practically shoved his tongue down her throat to shut her up when someone- the flight attendant probably- started knocking.
She’s all cool and collected now, mascara fixed, a fresh coat of some bubbly pink gloss coating her lips. He has no idea how she’s just switched back to her apparently perfect look in a matter of minutes. He’s still feeling like he had a heart attack.
In the best possible way of course- but a heart attack nonetheless.
She quirks an eyebrow at him when she catches him staring at her reflection in the fancy little mirror, her mouth curving up at the corners. God that mouth. He’d actually fucking kissed that mouth.
“ Are you planning to- umm- zip your pants soon or...”
She waggles her eyebrows suggestively and he flushes, glancing down quickly and immediately turning around to put away his privates. Great.
When he does turn around she’s smiling, something so warm and sweet about it- and he wonders for the hundredth time since he boarded the flight and found himself sitting next to this gorgeous woman- what exactly he’s done to deserve such an epic replay of all his teenage boy fantasies all mixed in one.
“ We should head out before they arrest us you know.” She says, smile still in place and Jughead snaps out of his reverie clearing his throat.
“ Yeah,” he rasps out, “ Yeah. Good idea.”
Wow. He can’t believe he told her he’s a writer. There is no way in hell she’s going to believe he’s telling the truth with how distinctly ineloquent he sounds. They’ll be landing in L.A any time now and he has no idea how he’s supposed to tell her he can’t just let her walk out of this bathroom and his life forever. It’s like he’s been under a trance since the minute he laid eyes on her, literally baring his soul to her during the two hour flight they’d shared and yet he knows absolutely nothing about her. She’d said she wanted it that way.
“ I’ll go out first. Lock up then follow me after a few minutes.”
“ Yeah ok.” He says, a dull ache settling in his bones.
She passes by him and unlocks the door, the hint of strawberries and vanilla hitting his senses once again, making him dizzy. But just as she’s about to walk out she turns around and kisses him once more and slips a piece of paper in his hands.
It takes him a minute to collect himself again- her kiss has done wonders for the lower half of his body and he really needs to calm the fuck down. He finally unfolds the paper once things have settled and his heart goes into overdrive.
There’s a number written on it next to her name.
Betty Cooper. Assistant editor MarQuee Magazine. Call me in L.A. I don’t normally do this. Don’t screw up.
Chapter 6: Video games
3rd drabble of thirty in the song fic series.
A fic based on a song that reminds you of summer.
Song: Video games by Lana Del Rey
Jughead wouldn’t necessarily classify himself as someone very fond of walking but that summer with Archie gone off to visit his mum, there’s no one to play video games or laze around with him in general.
So he finds himself in the company of the one and only Betty Cooper and Betty is a creature of the outdoors in summer. She coaxes, threatens, argues and finally bribes him with her delectable cupcakes to start walking with her.
“ I want to explore everything Juggie! When will we ever have the time to discover all of Riverdale’s hidden wonders if not now.”
Jughead snorts while stuffing his face with cupcakes and nearly chokes in the process. But by the end of the day Betty’s planned out a daily excursion for the remainder of summer and Jughead has reluctantly agreed to accompany her on foot. It’s going to help the writer in him she tells him as they part ways that night. And the investigative journalist in her.
It turns out to be fun, like most things with her are. They cover different sections of their town on foot everyday, take notes and talk. Talking to her is like breathing- natural, easy and terribly missed when deprived of it.
They cover the woods, the banks of Sweetwater river, the old abandoned mental asylum at the edge of town. They visit The Sisters and even Thornhill. Cheryl is more than thrilled to give them a tour as much as she pretends otherwise.
He writes and writes in his journals. It’s hard to take notes on his laptop when they’re walking around all the time but the feel of pen and paper is oddly refreshing.
Out of nowhere he finds himself writing about Betty. She is after all the epitome of everything that is good in Riverdale. He’s always believed that- but somehow he finds himself intrigued lately by the curve of her smile, that perfect green shade of her eyes, the way her hair is almost golden in the receding light of day. He makes up stories about his old town but inevitably finds himself painting the stories with a certain blonde in mind. She is the centre of it all.
He buys her an ice cream from a dude on his ice cream cycle at the edge of the road and then walks with her lazily in the woods once more. His tongue seems to swell inside his mouth every time Betty flicks her own over the runny chocolate cone. Everything seems to melt: her ice cream, his ice cream, his brain.
They come across a bush with thorns and Betty carelessly walks past it and lets out a muffled, ‘Ouch’. There’s a scratch on her shoulder where the spaghetti strap of her dress is yellow next to the blooming red of injured skin. Jughead’s entire world narrows down to that single strip of skin with a streak of blood oozing out.
His brain really must have melted because there is no other explanation for what he does next. He pulls her close, pushes away the strap of her dress and runs the flat of his tongue across that strip of broken red skin while his heart screams at him to soothe her.
Betty’s breath hitches and he pulls back wild eyed, mouth hanging open, the taste of her blood startlingly tangy on his lips. She looks at him her own pupils dark and wide and then pulls him back to her with the lapels of his flannel.
The press of her mouth to his is at first cool and sweet from the ice cream and then incredibly, overwhelmingly warm.
Chapter 7: Need You Now
4th of thirty drabbles from the somg fic challenge.
A fic based on a song that reminds you of someone you want to forget.
Song: Need you Now by Lady Antebellum
Au where Betty and Jughead are college-mates who hook up again after a drunken one night stand ( this one got a little NSFW folks-be warned!!)
“ God you’re so pretty,” Jughead pants, hands skimming over the skin of her face, her neck, her collar bones, barely touching her and yet that is all it takes for her to be breathless and dizzy with want and judging from the feel of the fabric against her core, completely wet for him. “ You’re so fuckin’ pretty you know that?”
“ Yeah.” He groans, palming her breast over the blouse she’s wearing.
“ You said that before also,” she sighs and his hands pinch her nipples making her keen but she continues,” I remember that from before...”
“ What else do you remember?” He asks drawing back a little so that he can look at her face.
Betty opens her eyes to find his eyes fixed on her, lips slightly parted and he looks so hot she surges forward and stamps a hard kiss on his mouth, and then heart pounding because it’s so unlike her she whispers” I remember you fucked me hard.”
The blue in his eyes is nearly gone from how wide blown his pupils are. The air between them seems to change with her confession; growing thicker, sweeter, more charged. He pulls her roughly towards the edge of the mattress in such a sudden sharp tug of limbs that she gasps out.
“ Can I take this off?” he asks pulling at the waistband of her lacy underwear and she nods trying to swallow the saliva that keeps pooling in her mouth. He pulls it off in one smooth glide and then looking up at her, as she’s watching him propped up on her elbows, parts her legs and simply puts his mouth on her. The sound that comes out of her is wanton and needy. He brings her to the edge then recedes then builds her up again so that when the orgasm hits her she’s a trembling mess of incoherent sounds, hands white knuckled and fisted in the sheets, fireworks exploding behind her eyelids.
“ Oh god.” She pants,” oh dear god.”
His grin is lop-sided and endearing as he pushes himself up and kisses her again, letting her taste herself on his lips. Her lungs feel congested-it’s so hard to breathe.
“ Condom.” She whispers and Jughead nudges his nose against hers. It’s a tender gesture; far too tender for a casual hook-up.
“ Are you sure.” He asks softly, the weight of him heavy between her thighs, “I mean we don’t have to.”
“ I’m sure.” Betty replies chest heaving, caressing his face “ I’m so sure.”
“ Ok.” He says and his pupils are wide and a dark liquid black-something almost vulnerable in their depths, “ Just don’t disappear on me again this time Cooper.”
“ I won’t.” She promises and lets herself fall.
Chapter 8: Closer
5th drabble of thirty from the song fic series.
A fic based on a song that needs to be played loudly.
Song: Closer by the Chainsmokers ft Halsey
Some pre-relationship, pining, oblivious Bughead at one of Cheryl's parties.
Her palms are sweaty, heart pounding and the sound of whatever (Cheryl approved) song is playing currently, way too loud in her ears- the details are beginning to get fuzzy.
Betty’s had enough panic attacks by now to know this is how they usually start. The fact that she may have a panic attack in the middle of a game of suck and blow with her classmates is horrifying enough to prevent it- but she’s not counting on her luck.
The only person who looks as sick as she’s feeling right now is Jughead standing five places to her left sandwiched between Ethel and Midge. The fact that he is at this particular party and actually standing in this particular circle is surreal enough to begin with but she’ll have to ask him about this later once they’ve escaped this hell.
She’s standing between Moose and Reggie and the last coherent thought she has before the game starts is that she’d rather kiss Moose than Reggie if it comes down to it. And the next second all thoughts have flown from her head as the tightly knit circle begins to pass the card from mouth to mouth. She’s so wound up to prevent any kind of kiss that she doesn’t even realize she’s passed the card from Moose on her left to Reggie on her right (stinking of beer! Eww!) till it’s gone.
Chuck drops the card and swoops in to kiss Josie who looks nowhere near as thrilled as her partner.
Ughh. Newsflash-she’ll kiss Reggie any day over Chuck.
“ Move!” Cheryl shrieks and the girls rotate one space to their left so that she’s now standing between Dilton and Moose. Jughead is between Nancy and Midge. She may be imagining it but Ethel is currently staring daggers at Chuck for causing this change in positions.
They start again. She tries to keep her eyes focused and pulse steady and watches as the card passes from Midge to Jughead and from Jughead to Nancy and thankfully nothing happens.
Good? Hold that thought- no wait...oh shit it’s coming back!
Dilton’s breath is distinctly earthy like he’s been eating literal soil or sitting underground for days as she sucks the card from him and passes it to Moose again who simply smells of sweat.
Chuck drops the card again because of course he does and Reggie practically smacks him on the head as he begins to suck face with Cricket (who actually seems to be enjoying it.)
“ You drop that damn card one more time Chucky boy and you’re out.” Cheryl says icily. “ Girls rotate!”
She moves left again and finds herself between Dilton and Jughead who grins at her and out of nowhere she is a million times more nervous as her eyes flit involuntarily to his smiling lips.
That’s just weird. She needs to step back and- oh shit no time! The card’s moving again.
Between Jughead and Dilton she feels at least confidant there won’t be any intentional card dropping. Jughead’s familiar smell of books and ink and some kind of detergent is actually a nice combination (compared to the others) as she takes the card from him and passes it to Dilton.
She tries not to think about the fact that she’s never seen his eyes this close before and that they are the most startlingly pretty shade of blue she’s ever seen.
Miraculously no one drops the card the next complete round and it’s coming back towards them and she’s feeling quite at ease now as she reaches forward to take it from Jughead and pass it on as soon as she can.
Only that doesn’t happen.
The second before Jughead passes her the card she looks into his eyes again and completely forgets to suck her breath in. And the card falls.
She watches in slow motion as the card falls.
Her mouth falls open in sync with it as she looks up at Jughead who is staring at her- his own mouth slightly open as well, colour high in his cheekbones and the tips of his ears a bright red. She can feel her face growing alarmingly warm too.
“ Kiss you losers and get this game going!”
She jumps at Cheryl’s shrill voice and before she can actually run away Jughead- her loner I’m weird, I’m a weirdo friend Jughead-simply grips her and plants his lips firmly on hers.
His mouth tastes like strawberry flavoured starbursts and she has the fleeting memory of him stuffing his face with them as they’d sat next to Archie at the beginning of the party. It’s the most surprisingly delightful taste to be kissed with and her hands move involuntarily and grip his t-shirt as she sighs in to his mouth.
Someone clears their throat and they spring apart. Jughead looks like he’s been hit on the head with a ton of bricks and her face is practically on fire.
“ Let’s get this game started!” Reggie roars again but Betty’s had enough.
“ I’m out.” She says stepping away and strangely enough her hand is firmly tugging Jughead away as well.
“ Yeah me too!” He croaks and as soon as they step back the circle reforms, nobody paying much attention to their retreating forms.
“ let’s get out of here.” Jughead says and his voice is still raspy, still rough as his eyes keep flitting to her lips.
Something warm and happy begins to bloom inside her rib cage.
“ Yeah.” She grins, “ lets.”
Chapter 9: Killing me softly
6th drabble of thirty in the song fic series.
A fic based on a song that makes you want to dance.
Song: Killing me softly by the Fugees.
Hitman Jones has a new target
He’s pacing and the room feels claustrophobic now and he fucking hates it.
She is never late. Why the fuck is she late?
The one thing he’s learned in his two weeks of obsessive research is that Elizabeth Cooper is a creature of habit. She has a routine and she follows the routine like her life depends on it.
Everyday she leaves for work at 7:30. It’s a short distance from her apartment-he’s followed her enough times to know it’s a 19 minute drive to be exact. She stops on the way for a coffee from her favourite coffee shop- a steaming hot cappuccino- and always arrives at her office exactly 5 minutes before eight.
He spends his mornings when she’s gone doing research on his other targets. He’s had three phone calls so far- the most he’s ever received for a particular target and he knows his employer is getting impatient. He would have been replaced by now- two weeks is an unusually long time in the business to get a job done. He knows his client’s persistent request for the ‘ best man only’ is what’s keeping Hiram quiet.
He’s craving a cigarette. Or the high that comes simply with looking at her- it’s becoming a morbid obsession...his constant need to know what she’s doing. He’s been standing at the window in this cramped space wasting hour upon hour just looking at her, his finger resting on the trigger of his Remington, his hand caressing it’s spine imagining he’s caressing her instead. He’s seen her naked many times by now. Elizabeth is used to keeping her windows and curtains open. She also likes to sleep without her clothes on. He’s jerked off enough times to the image of her firm tits to know.
He takes his seat at the window again putting his eye to the scope for the hundredth time. She should be home by now damn it!
“ Come on baby,” he whispers caressing his weapon again, his finger returning to it’s place on the trigger, “ come to daddy.”
As if willed by the very force of his thoughts, the door opens and she walks in. Jughead’s blood pressure spikes at the mere sight of her in that prim little businesswoman suit. God he’s imagined fucking her in it so many times...bent over that gorgeous mahogany table all lovely and exposed for him.
She’s in a bad mood and he wonders what’s wrong. His own anger seems to flare at the very thought that someone’s annoyed his pretty little darling. He wants to aim and shoot that bastard.
Elizabeth steps out of her dainty heels and locks the door. She takes off her suit jacket and unbuttons her shirt slowly. His mouth feels dry, heart ponding as inch by inch of creamy flesh becomes visible hidden in parts by black lace.
“ Fuck.” He breathes as she walks across the room to the adjoining bathroom. “ Fuck.”
He’s running out of time. His phone is going to ring any minute now and he’ll be pleading like a beggar for one more day. He needs to get the job done- pull that fucking trigger and watch her melt to the floor- her beautiful green eyes glassy and lifeless forever.
He needs to kill her, his heart reminds him... before he falls in love with her.
Chapter 10: Fast Car
7th drabble of thirty from the song fic series.
A fic based on a song to drive to.
Song: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman
Hitman Jones goes rogue.
He’s driving like a madman and he’s going to get them fucking killed.
The fact that he was planning to kill her anyway and has somehow changed his mind-which has lead to another man trying to kill them both now is another story altogether.
In the 72 hours since he’s gone rogue, Jughead’s life has spiralled out of control for the first time in years and he’s not dealing too well with it.
Add to it the fact that the beautiful blonde who is currently sleeping next to him in the passenger seat (like she doesn’t have a fucking care in the world) has turned out to be a complete spitfire isn’t helping. In the three days they’ve spent together she’s scratched him, slapped him, cursed him and plain acted like a God damn nuisance. The fact that he is even more turned on by this is abysmal.
Anyone- literally anyone else in her position would be dead by now with a bullet in their heart. Elizabeth-or Betty as she prefers- on the other hand is not only alive and thriving, she has become the single most important person in his life in a matter of days- the one person he’s willing to die for before any one else touches a hair of her body.
She’s completely oblivious to his inner turmoil of course. He’s adopted a civil, slightly detached attitude towards her. It’s the only way he can come out of this mess with his sanity intact. It’s hard enough as it is practically spending every second of his waking hours in her presence when he’s suffocating with how much he wants her while constantly dodging bullets. His years of practiced discipline and self control are tested every night when she strips to her under wear and his resentfully borrowed t-shirt to sleep in. It’s one thing having to watch her flawless legs on display- it’s another kind of torture entirely to see them paired with his worn out S t-shirt, the fine curve of her ass just visible under the hem.
He needs to get her away, make sure she’s safe. There is no place in his fucked up life for a woman like Betty Cooper. It’s a miracle she’s finally relented to listening to him. The dead bodies of her three co workers plastered on the front page of the paper have helped make up her mind no doubt. Whatever else she may think of him-at least she knows now that he really is trying to save her. She’s still prickly but at least she’s not trying to run away from him anymore.
There’s a motel up ahead they can stay in for the night. It’s risky but he’s pretty sure he’s tricked the guy for the time being at least. He’s tired and he needs to refuel before they can move again.
Jughead sighs wearily. It’s going to be another long night.
Betty crinkles her nose in disgust.
“ This room is stinking. And the bedspread has stains.” She says and Jughead’s face morphs in to a scowl. He’s feeling tired and cranky after a day of driving non stop.
“ Yeah well-welcome to my life princess. You’ll find it’s devoid of Egyptian cotton sheets.”
She glares at him and then stomps towards the bathroom muttering under her breath.
Jughead sighs again. She really is testing his limits in every way conceivable. He begins slowly unbuttoning his shirt, wincing at the movement as he tries to slip it off. The bullet wound he’d sustained two days ago is healing but it still hurts like a motherfucker.
That son-of-a-bitch will pay one day. He’ll make sure of it once Betty is safe.
“ Does it hurt?”
The concerned quality of her voice makes him turn around. She’s wearing his t-shirt again-legs bare. Dear God.
“ It’s nothing.” He says brusquely trying to button up his shirt again but Betty crosses the short distance between them and softly pulls his shirt apart. His hands fall uselessly to his side as she traces the tips of her fingers over the bandaged wound. His breath comes out in a hot burst of air.
“ I can’t believe you didn’t let me take you to a hospital.” She murmurs softly.
“ It’s nothing.” He repeats but his tone is gentler this time.
She bites her lip and he wishes she wouldn’t. He fingers curl tightly in to a fist even as his jaw clenches.
“ You won’t be much use to me if you die of an infected wound you know.” She says peeking up at him and his face breaks out in a reluctant grin.
“ Is that actual concern for my well being?” He asks, tone sardonic expecting her to immediately refute him but she doesn’t. Her face is softer than he’s ever seen before. There’s so much vulnerability and sadness on it that it takes his breath away. God she’s beautiful.
“ It is. I-I meant to apologize. For the way I’ve-I mean I know I’ve been acting like such a bitch. And I shouldn’t. You’re the only reason I’m alive.”
Jughead’s mouth goes dry as she traces her hands over his tattoo...the one right over his heart.
“ Memento Mori.” She reads softly, “ remember you must die. That’s what you chose to have inked over your heart?”
Jughead shrugs.“ It keeps me grounded.”
She bites her lips again thoughtfully. “ I guess it does-especially in your line of work.”
He doesn’t answer. He’s too caught up in the heat emanating from her body and the way she’s looking at him...she’s never stood so close to him willingly before. He could just tilt her face and kiss her. Fondle her breasts, touch her where he wants to bury himself most. But more than anything he could simply wrap his arms around her and just let himself fall in to her, let her soothe his aching bones.
He’s never wanted anything more.
Chapter 11: Drunk in love
8th drabble of thirty from the song fic series.
A fic based on a song about alcohol or drugs.
Song: Drunk in love by Beyonce ft JZ
Betty is drunk. Jughead not so much.
He’s trying to dodge the mass of sweaty grinding bodies cramped up in the hall way when someone practically falls in to his arms coming down from the stairs.
“ Juggie!!” Betty squeals wrapping her arms around him with such exuberance that his face ends up between her boobs. He would be in literal heaven right now if she wasn’t practically trying to strangle him.
“ Hey Betts,” he wheezes, patting her awkwardly on the back, “ It’s good to see you too.”
Betty draws back giggling. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes sparkly-she’s clearly drunk. Jughead’s head seems to spin just looking at her.
Betty Cooper in her everyday pastel cardigan glory is tempting enough to be around. Betty Cooper in a short skirt and crop top, loose-limbed, loose-lipped and giddy in his arms is something else entirely.
“ Where were you all this time?” She asks still hanging on to him. Jughead’s hands wander to her hips and he figures it’s truly necessary since she’s swaying dangerously. He may just spontaneously combust to the feel of her bare skin under his finger tips but it’ll be worth it.
“ Umm...I was looking for Archie. I’m designated driver and I figured we should get moving.”
“ Juggie!” Betty says scrunching up her nose adorably and wagging a finger in front of him “ You can’t drive when you’ve been drinking!”
“ I haven’t been drinking.”
“ You can’t Jughead!” She says still shaking her head as if she hasn’t heard him.
“ Betty,” he asks bemused, “ how much have you had to drink exactly?”
She shrugs mischievously at him then looks around. They’re still standing in the hallway, almost pressed front to front, thanks to how crowded it is there.
“ It’s so hot in here.” She says trying to fan herself and him. Jughead barely manages to avoid her hand hitting him square in the face.
“ lets get you out of here milady.” He says, steering her towards the door leading to the backyard, half stumbling with Betty’s arm around his neck once more as she leans in to him still giggling.
He’s never seen her like this and he’s going to thank Archie later for dragging him to this ridiculous party. If a few hours of watching his peers get shit faced is rewarded with this version of Betty in his arms-he’ll take it any day.
They make it to the porch swing in one piece thankfully and Betty perches herself on top of the seat, patting the space next to her. He sits down and she immediately inches closer, slipping her hand in to his, intertwining their fingers. Jughead is finding it hard to breathe. His tongue seems two sizes too big for his mouth.
Completely oblivious Betty begins to swing them as she snuggles even closer, resting her head on his shoulder. At this point he can only pray silently his heartbeat isn’t actually as loud as he thinks it is.
“ This is nice.” Betty says softly as they continue to swing in gentle to and fro motions. It’s pleasant out in the yard. The party noises are subdued-the music sounding almost romantic.
“ God you have such pretty eyes.” She laughs out suddenly booping him on the nose. Jughead grins at her widely.
“ Quite the buzz going on there, eh Betts?” He murmurs smiling at her as she continues to touch his face.
“ But you do!” She repeats drawing out the ‘o’, “ And the prettiest face! I just want to squish it!”
Jughead shakes his head at her, his eyes crinkling. He wishes he could freeze this moment in time. It’s something he never wants to forget.
“ Hey can I tell you something.” She asks abruptly looking up at him, her eyes dancing excitedly but also a little nervously.
“ Sure.” Jughead replies unsurely. He has no idea where this is going.
Betty sits up straighter and turns to face him fully.
“ I’m telling you this only because we’re both drunk and there’s no chance in hell we’ll remember this conversation tomorrow.” She whispers conspiratorially leaning even closer. Jughead wonders for a second if he is honour bound to remind her again he isn’t drunk but she cuts him to the chase.
“ I really, really like you Juggie.”
Of all the possible routes this conversation could have taken-including a murder confession, never in his wildest fantasies could he have imagined this one.
He blinks at her stupidly as Betty continues to smile, looking actually pleased with herself.
“ What?” He finally croaks out, “ Since when?!”
“ Since forever, I guess.” She says shrugging, “ But more since we started working together in the blue and gold.”
“ Betty,” he tries again, swallowing the saliva that’s suddenly pooling in his mouth. Her eyes are fixated on his lips. “ Are you sure this isn’t some-“
He doesn’t find out what exactly his love-struck, fevered brain was going to make him say because Betty simply reaches forward and presses her mouth to his. It’s sweet and warm and intoxicating and every fucking flavour he’s associated with her all in one.
It’s just a small peck but it feels like his whole body is on fire as she pulls back eventually, a dopey smile on her face.
“ It’s a good thing we’re both drunk.” She says dreamily as she settles in to his side once more, resting her head on his shoulder again. “ I wouldn’t know how to face you tomorrow if we weren’t.”
Jughead swallows nervously, the lingering sweetness of her mouth still sending shock waves of pleasure down his spine.
Great. He’s truly fucked now.