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archies-ginger-locks · 5 years

Text

I Miss You

Jughead Jones x Reader

Requested? No, I’m so sorry.

Prompts? Again, no. This just came to mind and I wrote it.

Warnings? Nothing.

Word Count? 1028

—

“I miss you, Jughead,” your small fingers played with his gently.

“I don’t know why. We broke up, you,” your voice started to tremble. Your hands pulled away from his and you couldn’t bare look him in the eye. His eyes were piecing into you, almost through you, in shock that you had finally returned home and the words that you were speaking.

“You don’t want me anymore,” a breathtaking sob left your body. Even though you were only seventeen, you knew this was going to be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do. “And I’m not here to change that.”

Jughead’s expression changed. At first he was shocked to see you back after leaving suddenly, then he started to regret his actions. But after you said that, he didn’t know how to feel.

“I just wanted to see your face again,” for the first time since you started talking, you looked at him. Even if he didn’t know how, or what, to feel, heartache drenched his face as water would in the rain.

And it broke your heart.

Mindlessly, your hand went to cup his right cheek, just as you did many times before you ran away. Instead of pulling away as you expected, he lent into your touch and brought his own to cover yours.

There were so many things rushing through your head. But they were all about him. And the only way to stop that was to leave again.

Yes they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, maybe that’s why you came back, but time away from the hellhole you called home would help you.

“Before I leave, again.”

His eyes were closed as he relaxed into your hand. The pure sadness in your voice forced his eyes open to look at yours. He looked into your eyes, searching for a answer. The answer. The answer to why you’d leave, or why you’d come back.

“Goodbye, Jughead.” You withdrew your hand from his face and he already missed the warmth it had given him. He was taken by surprise as you pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

The rain that had been pelting down since you had arrived at his trailer was still going. Your leather jacket slid onto you and still had some rain on it. You opened the front door and was met with freezing cold air and water spitting onto your face.

Jughead hadn’t moved. He was still standing in the middle of the small living room, his hair a mess and his eyes on everything but you. You stood there admired him for a minute before you left.

His strong arms stood out because of the tight white shirt he was wearing. His hand was still pressed softly to his face in the exact same place that yours was. The crown beanie was left on the couch and Jughead’s thick raven locks tumbled onto his face. He had jammed his hands into the pockets of his light blue jeans that weren’t too tight but weren’t too loose either.

He was perfect.

And you were walking out on him. After he walked out on you first.

The trailer door slammed after you as you slowly stepped down the steps to the ground. You wanted so desperately for him to follow you, to stop you and make you stay in Riverdale. But all too quickly you were walking through the rain and back to the bus station.

It was unclear where you were going to go next. But anywhere away from here, away from him was better then sitting around and being a sitting duck for the next psychopath to enter this town.

“Y/N!” You took a deep breathe and continued walking. Your arms had wrapped around each other to try and keep in as much warmth as you possibly could.

“Y/N, Y/N wait!” His hand grabbed your jacket and spun you around in one action.

The rain had soaked through your bones in the short time you had been walking. Not only your hair but Jughead’s as well was flat from the water. His hand was gripped firmly onto your arm, his eyes staring into yours.

Before you could even speak he sent his lips crashing onto yours. It took your breath away but you still managed to kiss him back just as hard. Your hands glided up his arms, around the back of his neck and up through his hair.

He pulled away first and left you hungry for more. A smile grew on his face, one of he ones that he used to have all the time. One of the ones he used to have before Riverdale decided to become a haven for bad guys.

“Who said I don’t want you anymore? I still love you too, more then you could ever imagine.” This time it was your who started to kiss him. You were hungry and lustful after not seeing the boy for almost a month. He obviously returned the kiss, with just as much passion and primal savagery.

This kiss went on for much longer then the first. The rain still continued to pour around the two of you but you were too lost in the kiss, in each other, to notice anything like rain. Your bodies curved into each other, trying to get as close to each other as physically possible.

“I missed you so god damn much.” He said just loud enough for you to hear of the rain. It was only now that either of you noticed the wild weather happening around you and the likelihood of getting ill after tonight.

“I think we should go back to the trailer, it’ll be much warmer in there.” You grinned playfully as Jughead nodded and started to walk you both back to the trailer, hands intertwined.

“I love you, you know that,” his words were so mundane yet powerful. Everyone had heard them but coming from him, it was like hearing them for the first time.

“I love you, too.”

#archie andrews #jughead jones #jughead jones x reader #archie andrews x reader #jughead jones imagines #jughead jones blurbs #archie andrews imagines #archie andrews blurbs #riverdale #riverdale netflix #netflix #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves blurbs #diego hargreeves imagines

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shymeg · 2 years

Note

For the emoji prompts

Bughead…🩹🚪🍯🛏

Okay all those together. ...

The knock at the door

Betty's Apartment Riverdale, New York

Betty was drinking a glass of wine and getting used to being back in Riverdale. She decided it best not to live with her mom, though. It was toxic, but she was here to save the town. That's what she told herself anyway.

When she heard a knock on her door, it startled her for only a second—used to people texting or calling. Yet, sometimes a good old fashion knock was a mystery in itself.

Jughead Jones, with his raven hair, no longer wearing that beanie she fixed one of many times he almost died. His crystal blue eyes looked at her, "I'm hurt. Betts, will you help me"?

Flashbacks of high school came back. Jughead was Betty's best friend. She thought, what if they told each other how they felt? How were they both so damaged yet healed each other? Would he kiss her? Would his crimson lips and cherry tongue find her mouth as inviting?

Betty looked at Jug's bandage and knew he couldn't go home.

"I only have one bed, Jughead. You have it"

His eyes glittered, his crooked smile and that stupid slight curl of his black hair as he grabbed her, "Stay Betts, please?"

Alright and just because individually

Bandaid

Betty saw Jughead bleeding. She wanted to take care of the outer pain

Jughead saw Betty's crescent scars more recently, which he hasn't seen since High school. He wants to take care of her inner pain.

Will they let each other in and heal both inside and out?

Door 🚪

Jughead was settling in with his new pup Hotdog when he heard a knock at his door. He cautiously opens it, a little paranoid. On the other side was Betty Cooper, with her blonde hair short now no longer in a ponytail holding a cat.

She smiled her Betty Cooper smile that made him melt. She looked at him and her eyes were wavering, but slowly locked eyes with his, "Can I come in? I need a friend? Maybe an old 50's film like we use too?"

He missed this. He just hoped her cat and his pup get along.

🍯 honey pot

Jughead Jones has been friends with Betty Cooper since 1st grade. Betty cooper knew she loved Jughead Jones when he'd always talk her off the ledge. She needs her friend, but she also wants to kiss him, show him off as hers, she wants to cuddle and laugh at his stupid jokes as his girlfriend. She's scared to move forward, scared to wreck the friendship. Jughead never gets what he wants, so why try with the one friend he truly gets along with and never let him down? He's scared to act on it, scared all his walls will come crashing down. Yet, when she sees Jug laying there in morgue make-up, will she break? As Jug is lying there, he wonders could he go to his grave and not tell Betty he loves her??

🛌 bed

They get a room after all murder mysteries lead you to all-nighters in strange towns. Unfortunately, there is only one room left, and all they have is a queen-sized bed. Jughead gulps when he realizes there is no furniture, and he's not sure if he wants the floor. Betty eyes him up and says, "oh please, like we haven't shared a bed before Jones."

Thank you's

Thank you @dayenurose for letting me try this out. It was fun and I hope you liked it as much as I did.

Thanks @ran94, for making that gif hopefully you don't mind me using it.

#bughead #jughead jones #betty cooper #blurbs #prompt blurb #kind of did not follow it oopsy #prompt emojis #thank you @dayenurose for this #@dayenurose

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letsdxthisthing · 4 years

Text

Tell Your Story | J.J.

Word Count: 691

Warnings: N/A

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Jughead is dating the reader, who like him is an author. She starts to feel unoriginal in all she writes

For the fourth time in the past half hour, a groan left your lips, your head falling to rest on the edge of the table. The blinking cursor on the open laptop in front of you only worked to mock your current state. The groan that spilled from your lips elicited Jughead to look up from his own laptop where he sat across the table from you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. You only sighed and shook your head. The explanation felt so stupid, so pointless. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling. It felt as if everything you wrote was cliche, predictable, or done before, and you hated it. Instead of answering honestly, all you did was shake your head, shrugging as if the motion would shake the feeling. At first, there was the consideration to not even answer at all. The thought that possibly he would just walk away, not worry about you. But there was also the knowledge that you were very wrong in that thought.

“Nothing.” The simple word wasn’t enough to get him off your case. You had hoped it was, but it really wasn’t. You sighed heavily as Jughead moved to sit beside you, his eyes flickering to your laptop screen.

“Well, if nothing is wrong, why don’t you tell me what you’re writing?”

You shook your head, instead just shutting your laptop and falling back into the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “It wasn’t anything good.”

Jughead furrowed his brows, standing to return to his own chair across the table, leaning back in it as he raised his brows. He didn’t believe you. He didn’t believe that whatever it was you were writing was nothing good.

“Well then, let me read it so I can help you fix it.” It was a simple request really. One that was quite logical. If your mind had been in a more logical place, you might have let him; You might not have resisted. But currently, your mind was not in a logical place, so you shook your head in refusal. Despite your disapproval, he snatched your laptop from the table in front of you, opening it to the place you left off, scrolling back to the top of the document to read the work.

“It’s predictable and cliche, you’ll hate it.”

At the moment, as he read, Jughead heard your words, but he simply ignored them. He didn’t believe it truly would be. You watched as his eyes traveled over the words, taking in the writing you had been working on for the past few days. It was all there, right in front of his face for him to judge. To you, it was its own unique form of torture. As he reaches the end, he shakes his head gently.

“Predictable and cliche is the opposite of what this is,” he spoke, his voice gentle and honest. Yet, for some reason, you didn’t believe him.

“You’re just saying that because you want me to feel better.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he hummed softly, turning your laptop around and placing it back in front of you. Leaning back, Jughead had a small grin across his lips.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

After his promise, you huffed softly, still not fully believing him, though believing him a little more than you would have 10 minutes ago. Your eyes flickered from your open computer screen back up to him. A soft chuckle left your lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you hummed. In reality, thoughts of how lucky you were to have him were crossing your mind. Instead of voicing your thoughts, you stood, stretching your arms above your head and yawning slightly.

“What do you say we call it a night?” you hummed, lifting your closed laptop and tucking it away in its bag.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

He also stood, tucking his own laptop away before slinging the bag over his shoulder and holding his hand out to you.

“Ready to go?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, taking his hand. Hand in hand, you walked out of the building and made your way home for the night.

#jughead #jughead jones #jughead imagine #jughead fluff #jughead jones imagine #jughead jones fluff #riverdale imagine #riverdale fluff #jughead jones x reader #jughead x reader #riverdale x reader #jughead x reader fluff #jughead jones x reader fluff #riverdale x reader fluff #riverdale blurb #jughead blurb #jughead jones blurb

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anninhiliation · 4 years

Text

Riverdale Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Sweet Pea

Fangs

Reggie Mantle

Jughead Jones

#riverdale #riverdale fanfic #mini masterlists #masterlist #fan fic #fanfiction #wiritng #smut #imagine #blurb #sweet pea #fangs #reggie mantle #jughead jones #jughead #southside serpent

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theangriestpea · 4 years

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In the Shadows | Healing

Werewolf!Jughead x Witch!Lily blurb/ficlet as requested by @the-gargoyle-queen

Rating: Everyone

Warnings: None :) Small spoilers for upcoming fic In the Shadows

“Let me heal you,” she had said so innocently to him despite the form he had taken. Blood was dripping down his front right leg and trailing through one of his golden yellow eyes. Pain seared the bite marks littered along the front and sides of his body. Let me heal you was all she needed to say to get him to follow the girl that smelled of sunshine.

Now Lily sat in the clearing in their favorite forest, the one in which they met. Her hands threading through his dark fluffy hair as his head rested in her lap. He was looking up at her with such love, such admiration, such wonder in his eyes that she had no choice but to captively watch the bright blue orbs.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Jughead asked suddenly, breaking the peace of the forest. The birds that had been chirping in the trees surrounding them suddenly seemed to stop at the heavy notes of seriousness in his voice.

He had asked because he truly did not know. It was a mystery to him as to how quickly he had fallen in love with her. If he didn’t know better then he would have thought she had cast some sort of spell over him. However, Jug did know better. He knew Lily did not use magic in such a way. Sweet Pea might, her practical other half, but she would never.

Lily hummed for a moment, repeating the question over in her head. The answer seemed so simple to her that she was wondering why he didn’t see it. “You saved my life, for starters.” She replied, nails lightly grazing his scalp in a way that had Jughead on the verge of moaning.

“Anyone would have done that.” Jughead replied, unsatisfied with her answer. Lily shook her head because she knew what he said was a naivety on his part. Jughead had a heart of gold that he seemed to think was tarnished brass. He was wrong.

She tugged his hair lightly to show her frustration with him being so down on himself. He always got this way closer to the full moon. His moods changing faster than a mouse being chased by a cat. A frown formed on his lips at her. “No, Jughead Jones, not just anyone would have done that. Not on the night of a full moon. Who else would have saved me that night?”

Her voice grew more serious as she continued, “Sweet Pea? He was too sick to even leave the house. Archie Andrews? Him and his stupid circle would have rather burned me at the stake. Your father? FP Jones would have stepped in but not to save me. He would have stepped in to kill the thing that attacked me. He wouldn’t have stayed to see if I was okay like you did. He likely would have run me off next for being in his woods during the most sacred night of the month.

“So no, Jughead, no one else would have saved me. If they had then it wouldn’t have been for selfless reasons. You even made sure I got home safe afterwards. Stop being so thick.” By the time she finished chiding him, Jughead was grinning at her like mad. His expression confused the hell out of her. Shouldn’t he be upset still?

“I love you.” Jughead replied, sitting up suddenly. He turned his head before tackling her onto the ground. “To the moon and back.”

Lily couldn’t help but smile back as she lay on the ground, knowing fully well what was going to come next. “To the moon and back.” She repeated back to him. A more magical way of saying I love you too.

#sweetwaterspook #riverdaleevents #theme two: supernatural #jughead jones #lily owens #jughead jones x oc #in the shadows #blurb #jughead jones fanfiction #jughead jones imagine #jughead jones fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale imagine

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jugpea · 5 years

Text

prompt 8 + 10

a/n: ok so the xkit extension for the ‘save as drafts’ option in the inbox is officially broken bc this is the second inbox I’ve lost as a result. will be posting these separately until it’s fixed. my angsty mood isn’t quite here today, but I hope this is okay :)

Despite each and every measure he took to delay this very moment, fear still found a way to hook into him and drag him back down. There was no hesitation with his answer when Toni asked about it. Of course. Of course he didn’t like that his boyfriend spent more time with his partner in crime than he did with him. Did that mean he wanted Sweet Pea to give up all of his free time for him alone? As much as he’d like that, no. That wouldn’t do either of them any good. They deserved personal relationships outside of each other, free to live their own lives, but choosing to do that together.

Even so, the turning deep in his abdomen kept him rooted to his stool. Jughead really would rather be home, doing anything other than watching the burly Serpent throw knowing glances with his boyfriend, the hand that grips onto his shoulder – the hand that’s returned, but pulled him into a side hug. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fangs. It was more than he had come to find him more of a nuisance in his relationship; and as much as he wanted to play nice and get along, a small part of him really wanted to just deck Fogarty.

That same hand now entwined into the base of Jughead’s hair, tilting his head back enough to force him to meet Sweet Pea’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re sulking,” Sweet Pea murmured.

Jughead sighed whilst bringing his hands up free himself from Pea’s grip, lowering his eyes to the tabletop. “I’m always sulking.” Was that a lie? Probably not. He was always given shit for looking broody.

“Not like this,” his boyfriend rebutted, taking the seat next to him, “Seriously. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jughead had mentioned it once or twice in passing, but it never really seem to stick with Sweet Pea. He felt stupid bringing it up at all. He had no reason to believe that Pea could been anything other than loyal – that would have been out of character. But he just didn’t like how comfortable he was with Fangs.

But after searching his features for a moment, Sweet Pea already knew. The sideways cast of Jughead’s vision to his friend in the corner was all he needed. “This again? Why are you so jealous?”

“Because.”

Stunned by the lack of response, Sweet Pea straightened his posture and softened his gaze. Making Jughead feel uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted to do but he couldn’t help the sarcasm in his tone. “Because.”

“You know what, just leave me alone.”

Sweet Pea had dealt with enough petty behaviour to know how to approach the situation. Instead of gas lighting what was clearly going to be a shitty conversation to have in public, he slapped his hands on his thighs and gave a sigh, “Fine. Well, I’ll be in my trailer if you decide you want to actually talk to me about it.”

#jughead jones #sweet pea #jugpea #swughead #jughead jones x sweet pea #southside serpents #blurb #* mine

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lilhemmo · 5 years

Text

the forbidden fruit pt. two

the forbidden fruit PART TWO: the downfall

ao3 | wattpad | masterlist

start from the beginning

THE DOWNFALL

The first months after Hades learned of The Prophecy, he swore that he would be content being the ruler of his own dominion. He knew the consequences and the privileges that come with ruling over a kingdom of your own, even if it is full of dead people. He swore he would be grateful to his brothers for the gift they’d given him. After all, it’s not every millennia that you get your own dominion.

“My apologies, little brother,” Zeus helps his youngest brother sit up when he comes to.

When Hades can see again, he holds his brother by the bicep to steady himself. He blinks slowly, eyes bleary as he gazes around, “Zeus, where are we?”

“The Depths,” Poseidon answers on behalf of the eldest. He swallows thickly, across at his two brothers, “We brought you here for your own safety, Sweet Pea.”

“You know how much I hate that,” Hades pushes himself away from his brothers. He swipes at the ash and dust on his tunic to busy his hands and then kicks his boots against the ground. “What do you mean ‘for my safety’? Am I not safe on Olympus, with the two of you by my side? None of this makes sense.”

“No, brother, you are far from safe.” Zeus crosses his arms over his chest and looks his youngest brother in the eyes, “There has been a horrible prophecy foretelling your downfall. We have brought you here to keep you safe. Only those whom you permit to pass are allowed in.”

“Brother-Mantle, what is going on? I-I want to go home.”

“I know, Sweet Pea,” Mantle puts his hands on his brother’s cheeks and tries to hide his own fear. He swallows, his throat bobbing, “But this is your home now. You can make it your own – do whatever you like with it! Rule it with an iron fist, make those who would come across you into your subjects. It’s a beautiful gift.”

Sweet Pea angles his head towards him with tears in his eyes and the eldest brother feels the knife in his chest turn just enough to hurt. It is not every day that you banish your brother to the Underworld. Mantle wraps his brother in a hug and pats him on the back, reassuring him with gentle whispers in his ears, no matter how false they may be.

It did take time to get used to living by himself, guarding the wayward souls and keeping the Underworld safe from outsiders. Charon watches The River, and The Guardians are his second-in-command. The Judgers send the souls to their respective fields, leaving Sweet Pea with little to actually do. Roaming the Underworld is tiresome and boring after a few repetitive years, and there’s only so many times you can play chess with yourself.

There once was a time when Sweet Pea would visit the other realms, Olympus and Earth alike, but those days have long since passed.

“Brothers and Sisters!” he shouts as he pushes his way up the stairway to Olympus. He chuckles, out of breath, “I know it has been a few years, but I-ow!”

Sweet Pea’s body flies backward, knocking the breath from his lungs when he lands. He rolls over, cradling his throbbing abdomen. It is only when he glances up at just the right moment does he notice the shimmering field protecting Olympus from Outsiders.

“Zeus?” he shouts in panic. “Poseidon! Aphrodite?!”

Anxiety overwhelms Sweet Pea’s body and he brushes his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. The sweat glitters on his brow as his forehead crinkles in confusion. He attempts to make sense of it all – why would the shield bar him from Olympus? From his family?

The shield only comes on when there are intruders, those banished from Mount Olympus.

Sweet Pea wonders, theorizes, that he has been labeled as exiled, unable to return to the Heavens because his name is on The List of The Forbidden. To test his theory, he boldly reaches out with one palm and swats where the field is glimmering. His palm stings as it snaps back to his body, pulsing.

It makes no sense that he would be barred from Olympus. He has not completed any of the Abhorred Acts; he has done nothing to warrant exile. Sweet Pea begins to rack his brain to try and understand what might explain why he has been banished from Olympus. Exiled.

‘The Prophecy,’ Hades remembers. He ducks his head and forces himself away from the steps that would usually take him home, take him to his family, and instead he walks down to The Surface. ‘Mantle is protecting me from The Prophecy.’

The Surface is just as haphazard as it was the last time he visited. There are humans lying on the edges of the roads, their bones showing through gaunt faces as they beg for spare coins with an empty bowl.

Sweet Pea reaches to hand him a drachma, but the skinny man withdraws his cup and scatters like a rat. The young god tilts his head in confusion but puts his coin back in his purse and continues his exploration of The Surface.

It seems that every time he shows his face to a mortal, they are quick to run away from him, or they begin to form groups and he can hear their whispers as he passes by. The weight of the world sits on his shoulders as he makes his way through the marketplace of The Surface. He has never felt this sense of dread hanging between his brows before. As if it were palpable, but just barely out of his reach.

“E-Excuse me,” a small voice pipes up from his side. Sweet Pea turns to look at the young woman dressed in little-to-nothing who is currently draping herself over his arm. He smirks and leans his body down to meet her halfway, “Yes?”

“I-uh, I need a favor,” she drops him a wink.

He nods in response and she bites her lip, “Well, you see, Lord Hades, I-I have someone who needs to be taken care of. And I’ve heard you do that sort of thing – could you help me?”

Sweet Pea narrows his eyes and disentangles himself from the harlot, “Excuse me, woman?”

“I-I’m sorry, my lord,” she ducks her head, “I was told that you were the Lord of the Dead, I-I thought you could assist me in my-”

“I am not a killer,” he seethes, snatching her by the arm. She cowers in fear and he watches as her pupils envelope her blue irises. He can smell the fear taking over her body and so he lets her go with a quick thrust of his wrist.

“Do you not know that it is against the law of the gods to directly murder a mortal?” he asks her indignantly. She whimpers before turning on her heels and running off to hide behind a street corner.

Sweet Pea scoffs, rolling his eyes as he makes his way further into the marketplace. The eyes boring into him from all angles makes it even more difficult to walk in a straight line. He can smell their fear – it is palpable in the air and it sticks to his nostrils as he breathes it in. The stench of their fright courses through his airways and pushes his hair upward at the follicle.

Finally, he can bear it no longer and he turns on the mortals, growing three times in size to better reach them all. His figure towers over them and they cower in fear.

“Is that how you see me, mortals?!” Hades’ voice bellows. He looks down at the people, his arms held out in vulnerability. “You see me as some almighty executioner?”

As to be expected, none of them answer and he is left with mere silence.

“If that is how you wish to be, then so be it.”

Hades waves his arms, dark smoke twirling around his body as he reduces himself back to his human-size. The onlookers grow in numbers as the smoke spins like a tornado, picking up nearby carts and merchandise. The mortals hold on tightly to the nearest object to avoid being swept up into his deathly cyclone. Then, after another moment, the smoke slowly dissipates into nothingness, only a shadowy figure standing in its place.

And then their worst nightmares are realized.

Screams echo from the crowd, piercing cries splitting lips as fingernails are digging at their eyes. Hades crosses his arms over his chest as he looks into the fearful minds of those around him. If the fear was not palpable before, it is now. The emotions coat him like a blanket, searing into his skin as he looks at them panicked before him.

The man in front of him sees a terrifying beast foaming at the mouth, it’s skin burning into flakes as it’s white eyes glare deep into his soul. A woman to his right sees a tall figure with blue skin and burning hair, worms crawling from his teeth and snakes slithering around his arms like bracelets. A young child sees a black shadow with white fangs, a golden crown seated atop his head – a true prince of darkness.

“There you go,” he whispers in defeat, his head hanging. Despite the chaos, he pushes through the crowd and marches back to the entrance of Hades. Sweet Pea loads into his chariot, his beautiful black stallions bucking at his arrival. He pats their backs and settles into his seat, the reigns between his fingers.

“Let’s go home,” Sweet Pea murmurs as he slaps the reigns.

The horses thunder down the road until the ground splits open and swallows them back into The Depths.

Now the god of the Underworld sits on his throne built from ash and obsidian, and he looks down at the dominion he’s been given charge of. The River flows through, dark and dangerous, as Charon floats his passengers to their respective dwellings. The Guardians – Grief, Anxiety, Diseases, Old Age, Fear, Hunger, Need, Death, Agony, and Sleep – hold steady at the entrance to Hades.

Even though he has this entire domain to rule as he pleases, and minions to order into submission, Hades is lonely.

Sweet Pea spends his time reminiscing on his life from Olympus – and it seems so far away now. It feels like it was eons ago that he, Zeus, and Poseidon would wander through the clouds and banter with one another; that he would feel Aphrodite’s touch upon his cheeks as her warm skin radiated against his own.

Instead, it was eons ago that he was confined to The Depths. Even though it was for his own survival, his own safety, Hades cannot come to terms with the exile. He is falling down a hole from which he fears he can never claw out of.

Hades stands from his black throne and walks down the pile of bones to the path that leads to Nowhere and Everywhere all at once. His sandals trudge through the ash of those long past, kicking their remains into the air only for them to settle once again.

The path takes him through a winding hall, built to the top out of the bones of the mortals who now reside in Hades. Truth be told, he is no longer sure of where this place begins and he ends. He caresses the wall, looking up into the soulless eyes of someone who once had a life and a purpose, something to live for.

“There is no purpose here,” he echoes somberly as he opens the door to The Forbidden Chamber.

When Zeus and Poseidon locked him away in The Depths, they told him of this chamber. They told him of it’s great power, and how he was to never allow another soul to enter it, for inside The Forbidden Chamber was The Forbidden Fruit. There are none who know of its full potential, of its full power, but Zeus did warn him that if there was to be a soul who ate from it, they might be trapped in The Depths for eternity, and whatever follows after.

The door gives way to the warmest room in The Depths. There is light here, and Hades believes that it is all because there is a soul living in The Forbidden Fruit. He swears he hears its heartbeat the closer he steps towards to The Fruit.

He recalls when his brothers first brought him down to this room; he remembers walking these halls with them as they warned him of the treacherous fruit that resided there.

“The one who eats of the fruit will be doomed to this place forever, Sweet Pea,” Poseidon warns as they break through the doors. “The number of seeds you ingest is the number of months per annual cycle you are beholden to this world. Those who want you in danger or out of their way will try to use it to poison you, to force you to eat of the fruit. This is precisely why you must never tell another of this place. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Jughead,” Hades uses the name like a weapon. He cuts his eyes at his brother, “I think I understand.”

Poseidon rolls his eyes, scoffing, “I swear, I get my head stuck in a wine jug at one festival, and the two of you can’t-”

“At least it isn’t Sweet Pea,” Hades argues, crossing his arms over his chest. He takes a look at the fruit and becomes somber at a memory of the origin of his name. “I couldn’t help it that I loved those flowers, they reminded me of Mother.”

Sweet Pea brushes his hand over the glass that contains the powerful fruit, a seemingly innocent object that could be his very undoing. Should anyone find it, should anyone understand of its power, they could chain him here forever.

A many years later, after Hades has seen countless souls pass through The River, the loneliness that began to plague him has yet to subside. There have been attempts to take The Underworld from him, but he has quelled them with the slashing of his sword and the flick of his fingertips, unleashing his dark magic on those who would oppose him. He enjoys the game, the bloodshed, and he does not fear for he has kept The Fruit hidden.

“We need a new protector,” he thinks to himself as The Guardians clean up the wreckage from a recent attempt to break a demigod from the pits of Tartarus. Hades walks around the planes of the Underworld, dragging his boots through the caked ash as he ponders.

He smirks before waving his hands through the air, contorting his fingers in all directions as incantations fall from his full lips. A dark being materializes from nothing, starting as a shadow and turning into something else. Hades pulls on thin air, teeth and hair and blood emerging from a tiny shadow wavering in thin air. Dragging his arms further and further apart, Hades creates what will soon be known to the mortals and gods alike as Cerberus, the Three-Headed Protector of the Underworld.

“C’mere boy,” he climbs onto the back of the middle head, scratching the dog behind his ear. “Let us show them what we are made of.”

Even still, as he and Cerberus wreak havoc on The Surface, it is not enough. The carnage and the retribution are not enough. Cerberus is an animal, incapable of speech no matter how much feeling he reciprocates with the looks in his eyes. Hades loves the beast, but he does not satiate the void for kinship, even if the animal can quench his bloodlust.

Years following the birth of Cerberus, Hades wanders the earth in search of a companion. He cannot find another who reciprocates his diplomatic sense coupled with the need for chaos and vengeance, but in his search, he does find a serpent at his feet.

He knows the animal is hated, feared, all for no reason other than its defensive mechanisms. He picks up the animal by its throat and stares into its eyes. Upon seeing into the void, he smirks and drags the animal back to the Underworld with him, strangling it in the process.

Hades buries the dead animal in the dirt beside The River and takes a deep breath, digging his hands into the soil. His eyes roll back in his head and a soft spell falls from his lips as he imbues the ground with the body of the snake, and the blood of his magic.

“Rise,” he speaks finally, his eyes opening to see a group of dark spirits in front of him, growing by the minute.

They smile in unison, revealing fangs and black eyes, “Yes, Maker. How may we be of service?”

-----

Hades allows the demons to roam the earth confined in their natural form, that of a serpent. When they return to The Depths, they are free to walk as human-like creatures, with bodies that can be either male or female.

“Why did you pick a serpent?” his favorite of the demons asks one day.

“Fangs,” Hades smiles and extends a hand to his friend’s face, the skin cold and scaly to the touch, “Serpents are hated on The Surface. They are avoided like a plague, treated as monsters. I saw them and I sympathized with them. And so, the one begat many.”

“And the many is us,” another female serpent raises her voice. She crosses her arms over her chest and flicks her tongue out before approaching Hades on his obsidian throne which burns endlessly, “Right, Maker?”

“Correct, Topaz.” Hades confirms with a sly grin. “And I allowed you to choose your own names because I believe in freedom. That is also why you are allowed to roam The Surface in your serpent form.”

Hades runs his fingers over his neck, which brings Fangs and Topaz’s attention to his skin where an image of a continuous serpent is burned into his flesh.

“That is where our essence resides, is it not?” she asks, unsure if she wishes to know the true answer.

Her Maker nods, a somber look in his eyes, “With every curse, every magic act, one must pay a price. When I created you, I lost a part of myself, the symbol of your existence stitched onto my skin for eternity.”

And so, the serpents and their Maker reside in peaceful amnesty. They grow close, forming bonds that will last more than lifetimes of the mortals who live above them. They tell him what has become of the earth, for as more time passes, Hades retreats further away from civilization and society.

Despite his newfound family, Sweet Pea grows bitter as the years pass. His family, his blood, do not visit, they do not call out to him. The mortals become increasingly defamatory of his name, blaming the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of the Underworld, for their loved ones’ deaths. They blame him for the wrongs of the world, the sins that they refuse to atone for.

And if they are not blaming him, they are praying to him. He hears pleas echoed with bloodlust and trickery. The only prayers that come to his ears are that of murder and wrong doing.

“Do they forget that I am also the god of invisibility, the god of riches?!” Hades slams his fists into his throne, cracking it. The divine properties of the throne allow it to repair itself before Hades even takes another breath.

He seethes through his teeth, “I am not a mercenary to further their cause. Do these incompetent mortals not understand that a god cannot directly kill a human? Do they not know of the law?”

Eventually, Hades makes the decision to curse his own ears so he can no longer hear the greedy human’s prayers. He removes himself from his temples, refusing to listen to their cries of death and mischievousness.

Their evil thoughts plague him no longer, and he refuses to admit that he sometimes misses the idle chatter of the insolent beings of The Surface.

The demigods visit him to try and trick him into releasing the objects of their quests from the pits of Tartarus. Every time, he gives them the option to turn around, to keep from crossing him, and yet every time, they choose to swing their blade.

The serpents notice the callouses growing on their Maker. He is becoming cruel, increasingly judgmental as he throws souls into the Fields of Asphodel, cursed to wander there. They fear for their own existence, for if their Maker cannot satiate his lust for injustice with the mortals of The Surface, what is to stop him from taking out his hatred on them?

There is a day, a long while after Hades begins to set like concrete, where his façade falters and he smiles for the first time in decades. Topaz notices it first, and she alerts Fangs. They watch together as a grin turns his lips skyward as he sits idly on his throne, a musical instrument in his hands.

“I do not understand,” Fangs whispers, his lisp catching the word. He looks up to his female counterpart and blinks, “I-Is everything okay?”

She nods, sneaking a glance at their Maker. Topaz swallows and reaches out to cup Fangs’ cheek, “Something is changing.”

A few months pass before it happens again. Hades is feeding Cerberus when Joaquin, another serpent with brown skin and blue eyes, notices the slightest of upturns of his Maker’s lips.

Immediately, he confides in his serpent family, whispering in their ears about how he’s never seen Maker’s teeth unless he was shouting at a wayward soul.

“I believe that Aphrodite has been visiting,” the tallest of the Serpents speaks with a smirk. Topaz waves her hand, “Regardless of who is visiting, it is none of our business to meddle with The Maker. Let him have his happiness.”

And so, the Serpents leave well enough alone. It is only when Hades has smiled for the third time that Topaz begins to question things. She has been by his side most days, also accompanied by Fangs, and so she knows there is no way a goddess could be slipping into his bed.

“We need to go to the surface,” Topaz whispers to Fangs one night after the other Serpents have slithered into their bed holes. “There must be an enchantress trying to lull him into some sense of calm before she lays claim to the throne of Hades.”

Fangs takes a deep breath before nodding, “I’m right behind you, my friend. Lead the way.”

The ground opens up near the Statue of Hades, and the two serpents slither out from it. They disentangle themselves from one another and move around from the back of the statue, surveying their surroundings.

In the distance, they see a small girl picking flowers, but she is the only human presence they can sense for miles. Even so, Topaz leads Fangs further into The Surface, and together they search for any potential threats to their Maker.

It takes hours, but the only mention of Hades from the mortals is that in passing, mentions of how to accuse the god of the underworld for their misfortunes. They finally return to the underworld, both agreeing not to speak a word of the possible threat to neither their Serpent family or to their Maker.

There is a lapse in time where the Serpents can feel their Maker’s temper begin to flare again. He has returned to his calloused ways, his judgment swift and the punishment unfair. For a fleeting moment, Topaz and Fangs wish the threat would return even if just so they can be reprieved from their Maker’s unkind behavior.

The moment is fleeting, but the Maker is taking a trip down The River when Topaz sees the warmth of a smile spread over his cheeks, his eyes averted to the bottom of the boat as he soaks in the feeling. She wonders if he even knows that his expression betrays him, but there isn’t time to ponder over such things.

“Surface. Now.” Topaz orders to Fangs.

They slip between the crevice in the ground, slithering to the front of the statue. They wander through the temple, searching for any signs of danger. To their surprise, they are met with a womanly figure, her hair braided away from her face and a plethora of flowers in her dark hair.

“Sweet peas,” Topaz speaks to Fangs in a language only they can hear. “Look familiar?”

Fangs glances up at the girl aging into a woman and he is sure that she is just as familiar as the flower. It has been years since their last trip to the surface, but he distinctly remembers the backside of a young woman fading into the smoke.

The backside of his tail flicks to hit Topaz, “She is the girl.”

Topaz turns to look him in the eye, her tongue flicking out from between her fangs. She cocks her head in questioning, but he merely gestures with a glance to the young woman sitting in the temple, singing a familiar song.

The song was written when Hades cut himself off from the world, disallowing humans to speak to him directly through prayer. Lyrics speak of death and dismay and she sings them with a smile on her face while twirling a sweet pea stalk in between her fingers.

“Oh!”

Topaz and Fangs expect her to try and stomp on them, to snap them at their necks. But what she does next surprises them.

“Why hello there, little ones,” she smiles with bright gray eyes. “Are you lost?”

Fangs turns to his serpent friend and then back to the human in front of them, completely dumbfounded. Hades had told them that serpents were cursed on The Surface, that humans detested them.

“Oh don’t worry,” the young woman reaches down to touch the tops of their heads with just the pads of her fingers. “I won’t hurt you. You’re too pretty.”

Later, when Topaz and Fangs return to the underworld, they still feel her warm touch bleeding from the crowns of their heads to the bottoms of their feet.

Fangs shakes his head, “There’s no way. The Maker cannot hear prayers. She wasn’t praying, she was just-existing. How is this-”

“Coincidence,” Topaz interrupts him. She shakes her head, “It is merely coincidence. Nothing more.”

-----

It takes years for The Maker to smile again like he used to. In the midst of the time between his last smile and his next, Topaz and Fangs scour The Surface to find the source of the warmth. They visit every spellbound place, every spot on The Surface that is imbued with magic. Their search always has them return emptyhanded, no less confused than they were when they began.

This time, his smiles are consistent. It is twelve days in a row with the soft expression on his face before Topaz pushes her way back to The Surface again.

She sits, waiting for the next day that someone will grace the Statue of Hades.

It is another three days before a woman with dark hair and grey eyes returns to the statue.

“Oh hi, little one,” she reaches down and pats Topaz on the top of her head ever so gently. She grins, “I have missed you and your friend these past weeks. Do you wish to stay with me while I talk to him?”

Topaz flicks her tongue as she considers the young woman’s words. She smiles with bright white teeth, sharp at the edges, and sits down on the temple floor, “He is the only one who understands me, little one. Sweets and I are the same.”

And suddenly it all makes sense.

----

a/n: i hope you guys liked meeting hades!pea - he is a treasure to write! i’ve decided i’m going to post a new part every friday around this time in the evening :) so be looking out for part three next week! and in the meantime, let me know your thoughts on the current parts that have been posted!

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serpentupemotions-blog · 5 years

Text

Sleepy Mornings - Sweet Pea x Reader

(Gif is not mine, credit to the creator!)

Requested by anonymous:

“could you maybe do a sweet pea story where like youre always really tired when you get to school so you walk up to him and he's just talking to his friends with like you in his arms sleeping and it happens all the time ? idk if this made sense but the way you write for him is great i love your stories!!”

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,035

You reach over to press snooze one more time on your phone as the alarm draws you from your sleep. Your eyes take a moment to focus on the screen and you read the time, 7:45am. You had been pressing snooze every 9 minutes for 45 minutes and you knew if you pressed it one more time there was no way you would be making it to school on time. Pushing the blankets back you climb out of your bed into your chilly bedroom, heading to the bathroom to go through your regular ten-minute routine of getting ready for the day. You head back to your bedroom and change out of your pajamas, pulling on a pair of leggings and a hoodie, which wasn’t very different from your pajamas, but at least you could say that you weren’t actually wearing your pajamas.

“You’re going to be late for school, Y/N,” you hear your mother call from downstairs and you groan, grabbing your bag off the ground and hurrying down the stairs.

“It only takes me ten minutes to walk to school, mom,” you tell her, grabbing a travel mug and filling it with coffee, your eyes heavy.

“You look tired,” your mom comments, standing at the counter and packing a lunch for herself.

“Thanks,” you reply sarcastically, grabbing an apple from the counter and placing it into your purse.

“When did you go to bed?” she asks, turning to look at you with a look of disapproval.

You sigh and put the lid onto your cup, taking a drink of the coffee. “I don’t know,” you lie. You did know, it was 2:30am, but you knew she would get mad if you told her that. There just weren’t enough hours in the day, so you had made it a habit of staying up much later than you really wanted to.

“You need to start going to bed earlier,” you mom states and you nod, rolling your eyes when you know she isn’t looking.

“Yup,” you reply and turn around, heading out of the kitchen, “see you later, have a good day at work,” you call, pulling your shoes on and leaving the house.

The walk from your house to the school realistically was short, but it always felt like a marathon because you were so exhausted. Once you get to the school you push the door open, on autopilot now as you navigate through the hallway to where you knew your boyfriend, Sweet Pea, would be.

You see him standing next to some lockers, talking to Fangs, Toni, and Jughead. When he notices you beside him he opens his arm, pulling you into him, his arm wrapped firmly around you. Your head lands on his chest tiredly, shutting your eyes. This had happened so many times before that nobody even tried to talk to you this early in the morning. Your serious hatred of mornings coupled with your lack of sleep left you essentially a zombie barely functioning in life.

“Did you get your English paper done?” you hear Toni ask someone.

“Yeah, barely, but it’s done,” Fangs replies, though you are barely cognizant enough to register his sentence, everything sounding a little like an unintelligible string of words and not a coherent sentence.

The sound of the bell causes the hallway to fill with noise as people begin shuffling towards their first classes.

“No,” you groan, not pulling away from Sweet Pea. A chuckle vibrates in his chest and you sigh, pulling away. The only saving grace of this morning was that you and Sweet Pea had history together first period. “I hate mornings,” you whine.

“I know you do,” Sweet Pea comments, having heard you complain about mornings almost every day you two had known each other. He keeps his arm around you as the two of you walk through the hallway to your class.

“Are you ready for the quiz today?” you ask Sweet Pea, having spent two hours straight last night studying for this history quiz.

“Quiz?” he questions with an undeniable casualty to his voice.

“Yeah, the Cold War quiz,” you tell him and he shrugs in response.

“I guess I am,” Sweet Pea replies and you sigh. He was always so calm about school and you had no idea how he could possibly be so relaxed about it.

You two walk into the classroom and sit down in your usual spots, in the back corner near the windows on the right side of the room.

“Good morning, class,” your history teacher says as you rest your head on your hand, your elbow on the desk propping yourself up. “I’ve moved your quiz till next Monday,” he states.

Sweet Pea chuckles and you turn your head towards him. Two hours you had spent last night, two hours that you could have been sleeping. “I’m going to cry,” you whisper jokingly to Sweet Pea.

Sweet Pea scoots his chair closer to yours, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, your head on his shoulder. “I think you should go to bed earlier.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else in my life,” you mutter, fighting hard to keep your eyes open as you stare at the dull PowerPoint.

“Well maybe everyone else is right,” Sweet Pea says quietly and you turn your head, glaring at him with an intense level of annoyance.

“Right, no, of course not,” Sweet Pea chuckles and runs his hand along your arm, pulling you a little closer.

“Can we go to your trailer after school?” you ask quietly.

“Do you even have to ask?” Sweet Pea says lowly, a smirk on his face, sliding his hand down to your waist.

“To nap,” you add quickly, before he got too carried away in his thoughts.

Sweet Pea chuckles, “as long as I can cuddle with you.”

You laugh softly and roll your eyes, “you really are just a big baby, Pea. I don’t care what anyone says, you’re just a sweetheart.”

“Tell anyone that and I’ll have to stop cuddling with you.”

“That’s quite a threat,” you giggle, “but you know I would never do anything to risk losing out on cuddles with you.”

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag: @gruffle1

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