#riverdalepromptathon

[crazymisscarly]

Riverdale Promptathon Post!

Excruciatingly late, I know, though I intend to keep working on the prompts some of you peeps sent me. So this post serves two purposes:

1. To fulfil this anonymous prompt from the most recent @riverdalepromptathon : “promptathon prompt—an awkward moment concerning miss Emma Jones?”

2. To give those of you who like my Jordan Jones x River Blossom fanfic a taste of what’s to come!

Note: Jordan can’t catch a break in this next chapter :’) poor guy hahahah

River’s body was warm, heated against his own - particularly where her legs straddled his waist. Jordan made an involuntary gasp as she moved her hips, and a jolt of heat shot up through his stomach. Then he swallowed as he felt her hands running up under his shirt. He pulled away from her lips only long enough to remove the offending material from his body, then sat up to join their mouths again.

He slipped one hand up to the collar of her flannel button down and clumsily popped open the first button. His heart raced in anticipation, but he only felt good, positive rushes of adrenaline as he let his hand trail down the front of her shirt and unlatched another button. Then he gripped one of her thighs and turned them both around; with his other hand he steadily leaned River back against his pillows…

It was in this position, Jordan’s body firmly wedged on top of River’s, his face dangerously close to her chest as he kissed her neck and collarbone where her now completely unbuttoned shirt exposed her red bra (and a significant amount of skin), her fingernails digging into the skin of his bare back and her legs locked suggestively around his waist, that the bedroom door - unnoticed by either of them - opened.

“What are you guys doing?” A surprised voice came from the doorway. 

Jordan stiffened; his hand froze as he realized he was holding River’s right breast. He took in her wide eyes, then slowly peered back over his shoulder… and his eyes locked with Emma’s confused emerald orbs. 

A cold and abrupt sensation, like a bucket of ice being dumped over his head, suddenly ran down Jordan’s spine. “Nothing. Get out of here.” He said quickly, hoping that his sister would just listen to him for once and close the damn door. 

Apparently this afternoon just wasn’t going to swing Jordan’s way, because mere seconds later his sister (in an obvious state of surprise and horror) raised her voice and practically shrieked: “Oh my God! Are you having sex?!”

“Emma! Get the hell out!”

Jordan didn’t have time to say anything else - nor to throw the closest reachable object at his sister - before another voice was joining her in the doorway. 

“What are you two screaming about?” Jordan’s mother asked, an annoyed expression on her face as she turned her gaze away from Emma and looked into Jordan’s bedroom. Betty took in the scene, and watched as Jordan quickly removed his hand from where it still lingered on River’s chest, before she grimaced and reached out to grab the door handle and pulled it shut with a loud thud. Through the door, River and Jordan could both hear the muffled sound of Betty chastising Emma for opening her brother’s door without knocking first.

River’s legs went limp and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God.” She choked out. She took in a little gasp. “I can’t believe…”

Jordan swallowed. The pre-interruption excitement was well and truly gone, replaced by an odd combination of guilt and embarrassment. “Yeah.” He huffed out, then moved to lay down beside her. “I’m… so sorry.”

River moved some of her fingers apart so she could stare at him from between her hands. “It’s not your fault,” she swallowed, “but we probably should have locked the door…”

“Well, to be fair, I wasn’t really expecting us to…”

“Yeah, I know.” She nodded, then sighed and moved her hands away from her face, resting them beside her as she stared mournfully up at the ceiling. Her eyes suddenly screwed up. “God, your Mom saw my bra.”

Jordan smirked. “I mean, it’s a good thing she didn’t walk in any later or she might’ve seen a lot more than that.”

“It’s not funny.” She said, glaring at him. But there was a hint of amusement still present as she sighed. “How am I meant to look her in the eyes after this?”

“Hey… don’t be embarrassed…” He said, rather hypocritically since he himself was so embarrassed he risked spontaneously combusting, and rolled onto his side to place his hand on her arm. “As you love reminding me, my Mom spent, like, three years studying why sex is good for you. She has a doctorate on the topic…” Jordan still felt his nervous emotions raging, but managed to mentally reach out and latch onto a semblance of cool logic. “I’m sure she of all people isn’t going to dwell on our moderate state of undress.”

River huffed. “That is not what your Mom’s dissertation was about.”

Jordan pursed his lips. “Well, on the bright side, Mom’s probably just going to be annoyed with me because I ‘let’ Emma walk in on us, not because we were… making out.” Jordan exhaled in a long rush… but then he frowned. He felt completely mortified that two separate members of his family had walked in on him and River in an… intimate moment. But… that was it. He didn’t feel awkward, or uncomfortable about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, nor that River was still laying beside him with her bra visible for the whole bedroom to see. He kind of just wished he’d locked the door so they could have continued their… spontaneous exploration of each other’s bodies.

His eyebrows knit together, confusion setting in when he realized his hand was still tingling from the rough feeling of the lace overlay of River’s bra… and his stomach was twisted in bubbling knots, but the sensation was more enjoyable than it was distressing…

Full chapter should be online in the next few days!

#my fics #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale promptathon #riverdalepromptathon #Riverdale season 5 au

[lucivar]

Oooh, could you explain those serial killer genes and why Betty and Charles both have them even though Hal isn’t his father? Or do they get it from... Alice? O.O

WELL. THIS IS AMAZING. Thank you so much for such a brilliant challenge and a wonderful ask! I have completed Glen's dissertation for him.

Yep, guilty as charged! A completely batshit paper about...

READ IT NOW ON AO3

Family of Darkness: Varying Displays of Serial Killer Genes in the Cooper Family Tree

Disclaimer: I know nothing.

#riverdalepromptathon #meta riverdale fan fic #the serial killer genes #betty cooper #THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN AND ALSO WILD! THANKS FOR LETTING ME GO CRAZY

[thepointoftheneedle]

Stratigraphy

This is for the @riverdalepromptathon.

sullypants asked:

a prompt: what other shenanigans might Prof. Jones and (former) Special Agent Cooper get up to in the jungle, or on another adventure?

raymondebidochonlifechoices asked:

Once more for the Riverdale Promptathon! “Don't make your pet's name your password.” This prompt was … well … prompted by your Notes for Game Over. (What a treat that story is!) Maybe it could tickle your fancy for something for The Other Side or Pure Gold?

So here it is. Thank you so much for the prompt. You can dive right in or you could start with the story that both my lovely prompters are referencing which is here. Pure Gold

Professor Jones is a renowned archaeologist. Betty Cooper is his site manager and right hand woman. Can they be more than that to each other? (Yes, obviously)

“Thought you wanted to be with me Betty. Come on, what have we got to lose?” He clambered to his feet and set off down the tunnel in an awkward low crouch before she could think of an argument to stop him. She sighed, wondering how she’d fallen for the guy whose idea of a good time was to trek through snake infested jungles and mysterious Tibetan tomb complexes.

Indiana Jones (such an open goal) vibes with fluff and pining.

And for your listening pleasure? "I am digging graves..."

#riverdalepromptathon #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #stratigraphy #Youtube

[kesleyjo]

i am 110% sending you a For the Crown prompt! Missing moment, prompted by some random keywords: apple, dressing gown, affront, tizzy.

For the @riverdalepromptathon!

Well this was fun. I believe I got all of the words in there though I did not actually type tizzy. It is however heavily implied. 😈

Also this takes place canonically between chapters 7 and 8. Enjoy!!

“What will we possibly do with all these apples?”

Betty looked at Jughead with a placating grin, “I spoke with Valerie before we left this morning and promised that we would bring our haul to the castle kitchens. They will be used for breaking fast and midday refreshments I suppose.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow at her before looking down at their loaded baskets, four total, two apiece. Jughead was doing his very best not to look winded while toting his burdens down the orchard rows while Betty, however, looked as if she could add another full basket atop her head and still look unbothered.

“Is this not enough for an addition to the evening meal? She will not require us to return for more will she?” Jughead was performing adequately in this particular feat of strength, but did not believe he could replicate the endeavour.

Betty’s smile faded, “So keen to rid yourself of me?”

Jughead belatedly recognized his affront, so he stopped and placed his baskets down, grabbing at Betty to stop her forward progress as well. The entrance to the castle was in sight, and it was possible they would be seen, but Jughead thought they were well protected by both the celebration of the Sabbath and the sheltered area outside of the kitchens.

The entrance was surrounded by windowless storage rooms, and the spires that climbed above them had windows facing more scenic areas, so risk of discovery was minimal.

He would have chanced the scandal anyway.

And after last night’s feast he assumed Betty would as well, that is if he did not completely botch their building connection at this moment.

“Trust me, my lady, I will not allow you to escape my company so easily. But I would rather spend time with you for pleasure rather than work.” The double entendre was unintended, but there was enough truth in it he did not care to recant.

“Perhaps we can return to the orchards after unburdening our current bounty? Pick a few just for us to enjoy?” Her voice raised slightly at the end, betraying her uncertainty.

Jughead massaged his thumb in a circular motion on her forearm where he still held it, “I think that sounds like perfection.”

Now far more motivated to rid themselves of these apples, Jughead went to grab his baskets, when both he and Betty froze at the sound of a high pitch giggle.

----------

Jughead and Betty stayed unmoving until the giggle sounded again, this time much closer. Betty set her baskets next to Jug’s before she pulled them both behind an abandoned wagon that had been left by the storage room. Trapped between the wheel and the wall, and hidden in the shadows, they should remain unseen to the intruders.

But as the pair of gigglers entered the enclosed space she realized they could have stayed standing where they were, and the interlopers would not have noticed, as they were far more interested in each other.

With a gasp, Betty noted that the woman in the pairing wore a dressing gown; scandalous attire to be seen out with, let alone in the company of a man who held her in a tight embrace.

While the woman’s gown was well made, and spoke to some wealth, the man was dressed in the uniform of a blacksmith, though she did not recognize either.

After another high pitched laugh from the woman, the man pressed her back against the stone wall of the storeroom and kissed her soundly, his hands exploring in places most inappropriate.

Betty became very aware of Jughead’s body pressed against her back, his hands gripping her hips tightly. She was not sure he even knew that they were there. His breath was coming in warm pants upon her neck and she was suddenly far too warm in the brisk morning air.

Jughead’s grip tightened as pleasured moans became louder and more frequent from the amorous pair.

“Alright, enough of this.” Jughead grabbed at a stone lodged in the wagon wheel and tossed it forcefully at the building opposite them, near the couple.

The collision of stone was enough to rouse the couple from their...coupling. The pair looked around with wild eyes before the woman spoke, “You said no one comes here Sunday mornings during service.”

The man rubbed his hands up and down her arms, “They do not, I swear it.” But even from across the way, Betty could hear the doubt in his voice. “But for certainty perhaps we shall go to our usual spot?”

That phrase seemed to reignite the mood from earlier, as the woman planted a thorough kiss on the man before he dragged her away and out of sight.

Jughead and Betty stood silent and unmoving, even after the pair was long gone. Jughead’s hands were no longer on Betty’s hips but she could not help but notice that they were both far more out of breath now than they had been minutes earlier carrying the baskets of apples.

Another minute passed before Jughead cleared his throat. “We should, erm, get these apples to Valerie.”

They both edged out from behind the wagon to grab their burdens, and starting making their way toward the entrance, the mood charged.

They had just crossed the threshold when Jughead murmured , “Why choose the outside of the storeroom, when there are perfectly good stables abandoned at this time of day.”

The frustrated logic of Jughead pulled a laugh from Betty, breaking the tension, “Perhaps that is their normal spot. Or maybe that odd nook in the east tower?”

Jughead’s eyes glittered as they moved toward the kitchens, “I think that the study near the dining hall would be a risky reward.”

They continued trading more apt places for clandestine meetings as the mood shifted back to something far more comfortable, away from thoughts and feelings that neither was willing to address.

Yet.

#riverdalepromptathon #for the crown #I miss this fic

[edgarsabandonedrocketship]

Riverdale Fall Promptathon: edgarsabandonedrocketship

I had so much fun participating in the last round, so I’m participating in the fall @riverdalepromptathon! Check out this post to learn more about what’s going on and how you can participate, too.

Fics/art I’m accepting prompts for:

The Adventures of Uncle Hobo series. I’d prefer to branch out from the original theme, so I’m looking for little things (e.g. missing moments, one-off lines, etc.) people found interesting that could potentially turn into standalone stories.��

I’m also willing to entertain prompts related to two ideas I have floating around (mostly in my head): the first would be from Toffee’s perspective, the second would be from the POV of the fallout bunker. I’ve linked to the descriptions of each, but they’re very much rough sketches at this point, so if you have ideas for how you’d like either of them to proceed, I’d love to hear them.

I’m also open to other ideas for fics/artworks related to the ships that appear in my fics, but that are currently scorned by canon (primarily Bughead and Varchie, but I’d consider the others as well, especially for artwork). 

Please don’t send me prompts that include:

Heavy angst.

Smut—it’s not my strong suit, but I’m more than happy to play in the grey area between the T and M ratings.

Fics I’m opening up for others to write/create art/edits about:

If anyone feels inspired to create anything based on my fics/art, I’d be more than happy to see it (as long as it’s not mean-spirited, obviously). 

Ask away here.

#bughead #varchie #riverdalepromptathon #fall edition

[heytherejulietx]

Gold - Bughead

@riverdalepromptathon week 10

Masterlists

Read on AO3 here!

Requests are OPEN!

Prompts;

Daydreaming.

Gold.

Notes - ten weeks in and this is my first time taking part in the promptathon… oops. i’m glad i started though because this fic was so fun to write and i love it so much. though i swear i’ve got like three fics that end the same way this does. oh well, i still like it. enjoy. :)

Warnings - N/A.

Word count - 1.7k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @literarygetaway21 @bc-jh22

To join my tag list fill out this form

A hand in hers. Lips pressed to her hair. A cold golden band slipping over her ring finger. The thoughts swirled around in her barely-coherent mind as Betty attempted to wake up. Her eyelids fluttered underneath the gentle sunlight that peeked through the curtains to lay across her face and she had to turn her head to the left to get the light off of her eyelids. With a quiet yawn and a stretch of her arms she blinked her eyes open with a gentle smile when she saw her snoozing boyfriend buried underneath their light copper - almost gold - bedsheets beside her.

Betty propped herself up against the headboard and sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms for a moment. The memory (or was it her imagination?) of the golden ring made her look down at her hand, though no ring could be seen. She closed her eyes and let her head lean back against the headboard behind her. Had she been dreaming that Jughead had proposed to her?

Just the thought of him proposing made her smile warmly to herself. Betty and Jughead had been together for a good few years again after their high school sweethearts phase had ended for seven years. They had their own house, they had a cat, they both had stable jobs and things to do; far from old worries of serial killers and cults and aliens. They were finally living normal lives. Or, as normal as it could get for them.

The icing on the cake would be to get married to Jughead. It would be the perfect addition to their lives. Of course, eventually Betty also wanted children, though she knew how Jughead felt about that topic. After everything with his dad, he needed to be one-hundred percent ready before he could even think of going through with that next step in their lives, and Betty completely understood that. They had their whole lives ahead of them for that.

Jughead shifted in his sleep beside her and she opened her eyes to look at him with a soft smile. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. There was a time in their lives when the only peace either of them could get was when they were asleep in each other’s arms, and Betty was glad that they didn’t have to live like that anymore. No worry of serial killers or solving murders or devastating breakups. Just them. And their cat, of course.

Almost as if Toffee knew that Betty was thinking of her, a meow could be heard beside the bed before the fluffy creature jumped up onto the bed with Betty, meowing as she climbed into her lap.

“Good morning,” Betty mumbled with a soft smile as she scratched the back of Toffee’s neck, leaning her head down enough to allow the fluffy white cat to nudge the end of her nose with it’s own. With a fond smile towards the creature she ran her hand down her back and stopped at her tail, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Want some breakfast?”

At the mention of food Toffee meowed again and Betty smiled, waiting for Toffee to jump off of the bed so she could get up too. Shuffling into her slippers she slipped on one of Jughead’s shirts before she followed a meowing Toffee out of the bedroom, letting Jughead sleep for a little longer.

Toffee zigzagged between Betty’s legs on the way to the kitchen, meowing loudly on the way. Managing not to trip over her cat by the time she got there Betty reached up towards one of the cabinets in the kitchen and pulled out a tin of wet food, scrunching her nose up in disgust at the smell as she emptied it into Toffee’s bowl before she sat it back on the floor.

With her cat now eating happily Betty moved around the kitchen, gathering what she would need to make scrambled eggs for breakfast. Though as she moved around the room she still couldn’t help but think back to her dream. Of course they had spoken about marriage before; when they had gotten back together again they had both agreed that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, and that certainly included marriage, right?

If they got married then she would no longer be Miss. Cooper - she would be Mrs. Jones. The thought alone had her smiling widely at the frying pan in front of her as she sat it on the stove, an egg in her other hand. It would officially make her a part of his family, although she already knew how welcome she was into the Jones household. Betty was well aware that Jughead welcomed her into his household with open arms from day one when he was living at the trailer, though over time - through staying at the trailer some nights and then living in the same house as them - she grew close with his family too. Jellybean seemed like a little sister to her, even if she took some warming up to, and FP was like a father to her - more so than her own. After everything that had happened with Hal (she refused to refer to him as dad) FP treated her just as his own. And when she saw the man for the first time in seven years he greeted her like she was his daughter. A smile and open arms to hug her immediately. A kiss to her head and a mumble of “I missed you so much, Betty.” He liked her for who she was, not just for Jughead.

If they got married would FP walk her down the aisle? Would he dance with her at the reception? Would he gladly accept her as his daughter-in-law?

Getting along with Jughead’s family would be important, of course, but simply just having Jughead as her husband would be amazing in itself. They already acted like a married couple, but she knew life with him as her husband would be perfect. She could imagine small things like him referring to her as “Mrs. Jones”, calling her his wife and not just his girlfriend, always wearing matching wedding rings so they have something to connect to even when they aren’t together. Holidays together in a secluded cabin, slow dancing at parties, anniversary celebrations; she wanted it all.

She wanted to be married to him.

“You know,” a pair of arms snaked around her waist and held her into an embrace, bringing her out of her daydream. “If you want to cook the eggs, you have to crack them into the pan and not just stare at them.” His voice, though groggy with sleep, held a teasing undertone to it, and she smiled fondly to herself as she shook her head.

“I was just daydreaming. Got away from myself.” Betty mumbled, closing her eyes with a soft sigh as she felt kisses being placed to the back of her neck and wherever her shoulder was exposed.

“Was it about me?” Jughead teased again, and moved his hands to her hips to spin her to face him with a smile.

“It was actually.” Betty giggled, slipping her arms around his waist to tuck herself into him properly, shutting her eyes again as he dropped a kiss to her temple.

“Oh yeah? I’m flattered,” Jughead held her tightly against himself, his hand running across her back underneath the shirt she was wearing. “Can I ask why?”

“I had a nice dream about you.” Betty said softly, smiling to herself as she held onto him a bit tighter, tilting her head upwards slightly to leave a gentle kiss to the bottom of his jawline.

“A nice dream or a nice dream?” He teased, and chuckled as she gently nudged his side.

“A nice dream. It was very sweet. I don’t remember much about it but I know it made me really happy.” Betty said softly.

She looked up at Jughead as he hummed and leaned back slightly, and she leaned into his hand as he lifted it to rest against her cheek. It was moments like that when she knew that being married to Jughead would be perfect. They didn’t need to go on dates all the time or do fancy things to be happy with each other. Just having each other’s company was enough for them. All they needed was each other.

His hand cupped her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her and Betty smiled against his lips as her hands gently gripped onto his shoulders. They stood there for a few minutes, enjoying gentle touches and soft whispers between each other which only they would get, before they both felt fur brushing against their legs and an impatient meow following.

Betty pulled away with a pout as she looked down at Toffee who was looking directly at Jughead. “She likes you more than me.” She complained.

Jughead chuckled as he leaned down to lift Toffee into his arms, letting the cat nudge his face as she started purring. “I am very likeable.” He joked.

Betty fondly rolled her eyes and turned away from him and back towards the stove to turn it on, actually starting to fix their breakfast that time without getting distracted. “Of all people you don’t have to tell me that.” She pointed out, and heard him laugh behind her as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“Good point.”

As she focused on the eggs, she didn’t see Jughead move across the kitchen to where he had left his work bag on the table from the day before. She missed his hand reaching into one of the side pockets from which he pulled a velvet ring box. She didn’t see the sun reflecting on the golden band as he opened the box to check it was still inside. As Betty stirred the eggs Jughead slipped the ring box into his jacket which was hanging on one of the coat hooks by the door way; the jacket he’d be wearing out later that day when he took her out for lunch at their favourite restaurant. Where he would hopefully quite literally make a dream come true.

#amber’s writing #riverdalepromptathon #riverdalepromptathonweek10 #fyeahbughead #riverdale #bughead #bughead fluff #bughead one shot #bughead fanfiction #bughead fic #bettycooper #betty cooper #betty cooper x jughead jones #jughead #jugheadjones #jughead jones #jughead jones x betty cooper

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

#this is unhinged but i had to ok #I HAD TO #riverdalepromptathon #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fanfiction #riverdalepromptathonweek3

[stonerbughead]

familiar places

Pop Tate has a feeling, like something big is about to happen. After all, Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones just rolled back into town.

a fluffy little story that fits into the Pop Tate, Working Class Hero universe, for week 1 of the @riverdalepromptathon: Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe + exhilarated + red

absolutely FLAWLESS header by my queen @fyeahbughead

#bughead fanfiction #riverdalepromptathon #bughead #pop tate #riverdale fanfiction #pop tate working class hero

[imreallyloveleee]

promptathon week 2

Betty arrives five minutes after eight, carrying her notebook and what appears to be a sack of oranges.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She drops the oranges on the desk next to his, and Jughead leans over for a closer look. They’re unusually small. And a weird choice for a study break snack – he can’t imagine her eating more than, like, two of them – but then again there are a lot of things about Betty Cooper that are weird. Weird, he often reminds himself, is not necessarily bad.

“That’s okay.” He nods at the fruit. “You skip dinner or something?”

Flipping through the pages of her notebook, she pauses to give him a reproachful look. “We’re on Chelouche Spirals this week. Didn’t you do the reading?”

He did not, in fact, do the reading. He probably could have found the time, but certainly not the will, in between preparation for their Practical Applications exam (he’d nailed it) and constantly sampling the rum Veronica was making in the attic of the Physical Kids’ cottage as she tweaked the recipe for more of a “luxury” feel (she had not; if anything, each iteration was even less potable than the one preceding it).

Three months in to his tenure at Stonewall University for Magical Pedagogy, the study of magic is far from what Jughead had expected. Admittedly, his imagination had been hemmed in by the pop culture of his youth – Harry Potter, the Eldervair and Elsewhere series – dominated by gnarled wands and flowing robes and funny words that could do anything you wanted if you just believed in them enough.

Real magic was math – theoretical math, metamath, theoretical metamath – and handwork so quick and precise it made your knuckles crack and fingers cramp. It was complex languages on the verge of extinction that might actually result in the death of yourself or someone you love if you fucked up a verb conjugation. Real magic was hard.

And yet when Dean Weatherbee had called him into his office a month ago and offered him a spot in the second-year class for the spring semester, he had not hesitated to say yes. Sure, it meant getting completely caught up on the second-year fall semester while also passing his first-year final exams – but Jughead (mostly) enjoyed the work.

It didn’t hurt that it also meant more alone time with Betty, the only other student in their year to be granted such an exemption.

Not that their study sessions have amounted to much. She’s always late, always harried, always seeming like her mind is half-occupied by some other matter entirely, even as she works methodically through one theorem after another.  

Jughead’s heard the rumors: that she didn’t even take the entrance exam, that she just showed up on campus on the first day of classes, despite the wards around the school that should have prevented her from doing so.  Whether they’re true or not, even he can tell that there is something special about the way she does magic. Watching her cast is the closest he’s come to seeing that childhood ideal made real. Betty makes magic beautiful.

Which just makes it all the more painful that she’s been avoiding him since what happened on Saturday night.

Now she is watching him expectantly, vibrating with impatience as he pages through his textbook for the spell. Chelouche sounds French, but it’s not where it should be between Charbonnier’s Eighth Maxim and the Comtois Convergence –

“It’s Algerian.” Betty leans over from her seat and redirects him to an earlier chapter of the book. “I forgot mine, so we’ll have to share.”

Jughead nods mutely, shifting the book closer to the edge of his desk. “I uh, I didn’t have time to read it.”

Chelouche Spirals, he learns, are the magical equivalent of that thing he always did as a kid where he tried to peel an orange rind in one continuous piece. Honestly, it’s kind of a letdown. And annoying, to realize that the second-year classes Veronica and Cheryl are always acting so secretive and superior about are really just a bunch of grad students sitting around learning how to peel fruit.

Betty seems mildly amused by this take on it. “It’s a lot harder than it sounds,” she says. “Try it.”

She places one of the oranges in front of him. Clementines, he corrects himself silently. That’s what she’d told him they were called when he’d asked if he could eat one.

Jughead clears his throat, reviews the spell one more time, and then recites the words in Arabic while he moves his fingers in a counterclockwise, up-and-down motion over the open palm of his left hand. She’s not entirely wrong – getting the movements right is trickier than he’d thought based on the illustrations – but he thinks he’s got it.

Until the clementine caves in on one side, and ejects a stream of juice straight into his eye.

“Ow, fuck!” Jughead scrambles up out of his chair, clapping one hand over his eye. “Jesus fucking Christ – that fucking baby orange just fucking blinded me –”

“Jughead. Jughead! Hold still.” A firm hand circles his wrist, pulling it away from his face; through his unimpaired eye, he can see that Betty is trying not to laugh, standing up on her tiptoes to get a closer look at him. She murmurs something under her breath, and touches two gentle fingertips to the edge of his eyelid. The pain dissipates.

She takes a step back as he opens his eye slowly. He rubs at it cautiously with one knuckle, but all of the citrus seems to be gone. His eye’s just watery now.

“Thank you.” He can’t quite meet her eyes. Given it took all of twenty seconds to resolve, his reaction to the situation now feels a tad overdramatic.  

“No problem.”

A beat of silence passes, and he allows himself to look at her. Her face is tilted up towards him, uncertain, and he thinks again of the party on Saturday night. They’d been standing just like this, but a little bit closer. And a little bit drunk. Toni was playing DJ in the living room, her long pink braids swaying with the beat, turning the bass so low he could feel it echoing in his chest across the room.

He’d been surprised to even see her there that night. Betty wasn’t normally much for parties. But she was there, and her hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders and she was wearing this dress that was – well, it was a far cry from the collared sweaters she wore every day. And if he hadn’t been able to stop his gaze from dropping to admire her figure all evening, then she hadn’t been able to stop smiling every time she caught him doing it.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.” His voice catches on the last word.

Betty’s mouth moves, wordlessly at first. “Oh.”

“Not that – I don’t regret –” Jughead swallows. “I should have asked, and I didn’t, and you have every right to be angry with me. And I’m sorry.”

The tiniest crease forms between her brows. “I’m not angry with you, Jughead.”

He rubs at his jaw; there’s a wet spot on the side of his chin. Probably more clementine juice. “So there’s some other reason you’ve been completely avoiding me?”

Betty turns away, but not before he can catch the flush blossoming over her cheeks. “Yes, actually.”

For whatever reason – probably that he’s an idiot, who responds to social signals in the exact opposite way of how he’s meant to – her admission propels him forward. “What?”

She stops before the desk with the bag of clementines, her back still to him. “Did you know I had a sister?”

Her words catch him by surprise.  “No.”

“I did. I do.” Betty glances at him over her shoulder. “I don’t know who knows. Aside from the faculty, I assume all of them do. Anyway, she died here, when I was thirteen. Polly.”

Any sympathetic words he’s thought about speaking die on his lips when she turns to face him fully. They’re not what she wants to hear. “What happened?” he manages instead.

“I don’t know. No one ever told me.”

Betty opens her hand and holds it level with her chest. A round, plump clementine sits in the center of her palm. Her other hand starts to circle above it, fingers bent like she’s playing piano keys.

He watches as the rind begins to separate from the flesh, peeling away in a long, thin spiral. A lump settles in his throat. It’s frivolous, yes. But it’s a lovely piece of magic.

When she’s finished Betty loops the orange peel over her pinky finger, setting it gently on an empty desktop. She splits the fruit in two, handing him one half.

“I don’t know what happened to my sister,” she says. “But I’m not here to – to make friends and go to parties and – meet a boy.” She drops her gaze on the last part. “I’m here to learn magic and find out what happened to Polly. That’s it.”

“Then I’ll help.”

Betty shakes her head slowly. “No. You didn’t even know her, you don’t –”

“I know you. And I want to help.”

Jughead wants very badly to touch her – to cup her face in his hands, brush his thumbs over her cheekbones. To kiss her again.

But as surely as he wants it, he’s also sure this is not what she needs from him right now. Instead, he waits. He slips his thumb between two sections of the fruit in his hand, separates them. The clementine bursts sweet and tart on his tongue.

Betty watches him, her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth and back again. Something in her face shifts. He wants her trust, he realizes. He wants her lush mouth and her clever words and her elegant hands – he wants all of her – but more than anything, he wants her trust.

“Okay,” she tells him. “Okay.”

(written for week 2 of @riverdalepromptathon​! prompts used are orange, magic, & anger. this is an AU set in The Magicians universe.)

#bughead #bughead fic #riverdalepromptathonweek2 #riverdalepromptathon #betty cooper #jughead jones #if you squint this is a quentin/alice fic...? 🧐😬 #ive been rewatching s2 of the magicians so ive got their voices in the back of my mind #lol whoops #fic #riverdale

[crazymisscarly]

Riverdale Fall Promptathon: @crazymisscarly

I’m super keen to participate in the fall (lol it’s Spring in Australia) @riverdalepromptathon ! Check it out here :)

If you want, feel free to request some in my ask box. Season 5 was depressing and only fanfiction will erase the pain.

Fics I’m already writing thanks to prompts:

Tapes of Us Universe:

Carnival Fic (thanks anon!)

First night in the Combi with newborn Elle (thanks @bugheadsfangirl, I’m particularly excited for this one)

Jughead and Betty looking after baby Elle during classes at Yale (cheers @imreallytryinghelp)

Season 5 AU Universe:

Sick Jughead/Comforting Betty (featuring cute assistant toddler Jordan Jones) (another grateful nod to an anon)

Betty’s pregnancy with Emma Jones (thank you @bugheadsfangirl for suggesting this on Ao3!!!)

Other prompts:

Bughead secret relationship (arigatou @buggheadie)

I’m accepting prompts for:

Anything Bughead related that I’ve previously written, or have hinted at. Jones-Cooper-Smith Family fics, whether that be for my post season 4 AUs or something from the canon series. Also Falice, Choni, Varchie, Kangs, Teggie or friendships with Kevin/Betty and Archie/Jughead. I like Tabitha, Polly, Jellybean and Sweet Pea a lot too, so I’m open to fics about those characters.

I’m an absolute SIMP for family fics so by all means, I’m open to baby/kid fics.

Prompts that I’m graciously refusing:

Barchie as a romantic duo. Hard pass. Jabitha (unless it’s wholesome friendship Jabitha). Cheryl as a witch in the regular canon series (idk maybe I’ll consider a magical fic with the Blossoms and Sabrina but it’d need to be a pretty intriguing prompt haha). Hardcore smut (I could do some low-level stuff but nothing in my brain will make me unironically type ‘cock’ or ‘clit’. Sorry lads its just not for me, but yes I’ve probably read yours 😂).

Art/gifs made by others:

I don’t mind if you want to do that, I’d be excited to see it! My creativity is limited to writing so go wild LOL just tag me please so I can see it :D

#my fics #riverdale #bughead #riverdale fanfiction #bughead baby #riverdale promptathon #riverdalepromptathon #varchie #choni #kangs #teggie #falice #riverdale season 5 au #betty and jughead #jughead jones #betty cooper #riverdalepromtaphon

[lucivar]

When Jughead’s apartment needs renovation from black mould, he accepts the offer to move in with the two beefcakes, Archie and Reggie, and their enigmatic, absentee roommate, Betty.

Sleeping in her bed, wearing her clothes, reading her books, Jughead begins to wonder if Betty Cooper is who she seems.

~

This story is for @sweetsoundsofignorance, who wrote one of my favourite bughead fics, kill your darlings and thus inspired this fic! Thank you so much for letting me write fan fic of your work for the @riverdalepromptathon, you are truly incredible <3 

~

It’s a dark fic, so please heed all the trigger warnings for violence and dubious consent. 

read it on Ao3 here

#bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #riverdalepromptathon #dark bughead

[simon-eriksson]

Riverdale promptathon: Week eight  ➢ studying, brown @riverdalepromptathon 

#riverdaleedit #riverdalepromptathon #riverdalepromptathonweek8 #riverdalecentral #bugheadcentral #bugheadedit #bettycooperedit #jugheadjonesedit #riverdale #bughead #mg* #m* #gifset #bugheadgifs #riverdalegifs

[edamamechips]

promptathon week 1 : amour rouge

"What is grief, if not love persevering?"

Or Jughead and his love for the color red over the years.

four: power

It was the first day of school and Jughead had come back home, his favorite beanie, partially torn with a rip, in his hands. He had spent all summer wearing the beanie with crown cutouts, playing “royals” with Betty in the park sandbox and having the most wonderful time. The boys at the school sandbox, however, didn’t really think of his beanie as a crown and snatched it off his head to walk all over it, leaving it soiled and torn right in the front of it. Mrs. Jones found her four-year-old son with tear tracks running down his cheeks and a beanie in his hands, sitting outside on the steps of their trailer.

(read the rest on ao3 now)

(credits to @easyluckyfree45 for the most gorgeous moodboard ever and for tolerating me even after all the procrastination.)

Prompts: red + most of the prompts (?)

#bughead #bughead fanfic #riverdalepromptathon #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty x jughead #with a lil bit of toffee!! #look at me writing fanfic when i should be studying #😭😭😭😭 #i hate it here. #I DON'T HAVE THE TIME MY GOD #also you can't give me so many options and expect me to choose one prompt

[kesleyjo]

riverdale promptathon week 1

“Betty, wake up!”

The words were unneeded as Betty had woken moments earlier from his gentle nudging. Blinking heavily at her boyfriend, Betty shuffled her body up the bed to prop herself on her elbows, “Jug...what…” She was not entirely coherent, but Jughead did not seem to mind. 

“I figured it out Betts! How Riggs got out of the cellar before he was discovered!”

Betty gave him a lazy smile, rose from the bed, pulled a blanket around her and grabbed her pillow. Then she followed him over to his desk, stopping to pull over the heavily padded bench they put beside it just for these occasions.

Several months ago, Jughead had a similar break in his writer's block in the middle of the night. Usually Jughead told Betty everything about his epiphany, and then she smiled and gave him feedback as needed, and he would then get to putting his idea to the page.

That night however, Jughead, not wanting to wake Betty, crept over to his computer to write down his ideas. But when he sat down to type, he discovered that he could no longer pin down the thoughts, that they were lost in the chaos of his mind.

When it happened again a few weeks later, Jughead reluctantly woke Betty and told her about his problem, and they together, as always, discovered a solution.

Turns out, Jughead didn’t need to tell Betty his ideas first, he just needed her near. Which worked in Betty’s favor, since she never slept well when Jughead was far.

Jughead sat down in the armless chair first, and lifted his hands as Betty put the pillow on his lap and wiggled on the bench tucking her legs beneath her and getting comfortable before setting her head on the pillow and snuggling her face against Jughead’s stomach.

Jughead chuckled as he lowered his hands to the keyboard and began typing, “I swear one day you are going to smother yourself accidentally in my t-shirt.”

Her response was to gently nip at his stomach, eliciting another chuckle from him, before he started typing again, the steady rhythm of the keys working as a lullaby to lull Betty back to sleep.

#riverdalepromptathon #bughead #bughead fic #well this is fluffy #fyeahbughead #gif cred

[shirly-gallagher]

I Can't Say That I Do

Jughead had no business thinking of her the way he did, and he knew it too.

As he lay on Archie's bedroom floor, the air mattress slowly losing air below him, he knew he had no business silently pining over Betty Cooper the way that he did; the way he always silently had.

He was well aware of the hypocrisy. Truly. The uninterested recluse, the self-proclaimed relationship hater, the lone wolf outcast, was over the moon for the all-American blonde next door. A girl who only had eyes for the boy next door turned future star quarterback. The fact that they were such close friends made everything so much worse and muddled.

He knew had no business caring for Betty the way he did. He knew it, goddammit. But no matter how he tried, no matter far down he pushed, couldn't bring himself to stop. He had always thought of her, always sought her opinion above all others, always looked to include her and for a few fleeting moments, he thought that maybe she felt the same way for him too.

Sighing heavily Jughead counted the posters tacked to Archie's ceiling, suddenly feeling restless and claustrophobic. He tossed the covers off and sat up, looking over to Archie snoring in his bed across the room. His friend didn't move as Jughead got out of bed and slid into his pants and socks. He grabbed his beanie and hoodie before sneaking out the front door of the Andrews' house undetected. He paused on the porch and pulled on his shoes and jacket.

It was cool and silent as he breathed in the night air, no sound but the soft trill of crickets and the far-off bark of a neighbourhood dog to ripple through the dark stillness. Jughead listened to the quiet for a moment then descended the stairs quietly, shoving both hands into his jacket pockets as he walked. His body moved habitually in the direction of Pops, his footfalls quiet but determined.

"Jug?"

The soft call of his name stopped him dead in his tracks. The hairs on his arms and neck stood up, a feeling he physically shook off. He swung his gaze around himself and caught sight of Betty sitting on her front porch.

"Betts?" He said softly stepping up the pathway a few paces, "What are you doing out this late?"

The Cooper's house was still and dark, save for a small light on inside the foyer. The street lamps illuminated the front porch in long shadows of dark and light, highlighting shapes and angels in the predawn twilight. Betty sat on the top stair, her thick yellow cardigan pulled over her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs tightly. He could see her bare toes peeking out below the tightly woven threads of her sweater and wondered how she wasn't freezing cold.

"I could ask you the same." She replied.

Chick Here to Finish it on Ao3

#riverdalepromptathon #riverdale promptathon #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fanfiction #prompts #pre canon #pre everything

[edgarsabandonedrocketship]

Friday Night Frights and Fetes

My @riverdalepromptathon submission for week five. All of the prompts factor in to some degree.

Summary:

If these two shy lovebirds were her dolls, Juniper would just smash their faces together and make them kiss. Since they were not, she did the next best thing she could think of.

It's the Friday before Halloween and Aunt Cheryl is throwing a party! But first, the twins are forced to experience the mostly epic lows of high school football. They use the time to meddle in Aunt Betty's and Uncle Hobo's relationship, while accepting tactical advice (and payment) from participants in the Bughead betting pool. After the football field is set on fire at halftime, the good guys take on the bad in a Sketch Alley showdown. Later, everyone goes to Thornhill as planned.

AO3

#riverdalepromptathon #bughead fanfiction #I blame the Jingle Jangle #myfics