#[ once upon a time bughead was a rare pair ]

[bettycooper]

In the issue, Cupid has his eye on Riverdale as Archie and his friends find themselves embroiled in the uncertainty of young love. As Archie and Veronica hit a speed bump in their relationship, Jughead explains his unique philosophy on love to Betty, while Kevin finds himself in too deep on a date of his own. The modern-style anthology one-shot will feature a mix of beloved and unexpected pairings, including Veronica and Dilton, Kevin and Devon, and Betty and Jughead.

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Send help. I’m trying to remain calm, but I’ve also been waiting decades for this kind of consistent Archie Comics Betty / Jughead content. I have NO CHILL.

[bugheadgivesmelife]

Cherry Bomb - A Bughead Fanfic Part 3/?? so

alright here it is!! I thought I would bring a little bit of the original plot into this, along with some good ol angst. sorry if this was crappy, I have a lot of ideas going on at once, so everything is a bit of a mess right now. let me know what y’all think, and let me know if you have any suggestions or criticism, it’s always helpful! also, thank y’all for all of your positivity and love, it makes my day and I hope y’all know it. love y’all so much! <3

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Jughead was done, he was just so tired of it all - so tired of pretending like everything was fine and dandy. He was tired of pretending that he still believed that maybe one day his father would wake up with a sudden epiphany - actually shave, and change into clean clothes. He was tired of pretending to have hopes in the future, when he couldn’t even have hope in the present. There was a highly unlikely chance of him going to college, not with his grades and the reputation of the school he was attending. Jughead was very capable of whipping up A’s, but he simply had no reason to. Why put in effort when you get nothing out of it? At this point, he was practically a nomad, moving to and fro temporary shitty homes scattered about the South Side. Currently, he had set up camp in the drive-in, which was much better than the last place - an actual dump, no joke. There was a highly unlikely chance of him going to college, not with his grades and the reputation of the school he was attending. Jughead was very capable of whipping up A’s, but he simply had no reason to. Why put in effort when you get nothing out of it? At first, Jughead tried to stay with FP in his trailer, and for a while, everything was fine. There was a drawer specifically for Jughead’s clothes, and always a separate gallon of milk with his name written in scribbly sharpie handwriting awaiting in the fridge (both men preferred to drink directly from their own cartons, it was genetic). But, eventually FP started to come home with a beer in hand, the smell of mistakes distinctly noticeable in the tiny trailer. Then, drunken nights started to bleed into the day, a shot with breakfast, a beer with brunch - by happy hour, the man had already forgotten his own name, too wasted to care. During the few and rare occassions that FP would be sober enough to comprehend, Jughead plead him to stop. “What would Jellybean think?” Jughead asked. It got to the point where Jughead simply had to move out, it was his last option. Otherwise, he would’ve probably ended up tipping back bottles just like he did. So, he ran. The beanie shifted an inch downwards as Jughead departed his motorcycle, who he was now deciding to name “Betty.” He had been simply sitting upon it, deep in thought, as he sat parked in front of Betty’s house. He had driven himself here without thinking after asking someone for directions - thank God it was a small town. Jughead pondered exactly why he was here, but when the only answer that occurred to him scared him shitless, he tried not to think about that anymore. He had been using the bet as an excuse, hiding behind it as a reason for his behavior. He attempted not to think about the fact that the reason he was perched upon his bike, too petrified to walk up to the front door, was because he simply had to see the ‘girl who dumped a milkshake on his privates’ - which is what Tom and Jeff continued to call Betty - again. It was humiliating, but there was no denying it, and Jughead had nothing better to do, so he departed his own personal Betty, and strode up to the front door. A strict looking woman creaked open the door, studying Jughead openly, not guarding the way her beady eyes scoured every inch of his body with suspicion. Her lips pursed at the sight of his Serpent jacket, and Jughead immediately regretted not leaving it on his bike. He shuffled underneath her piercing glare, hoping to relieve himself of the burn she was inflicting on his body. Jughead wondered who was going to speak first, but she spared him of choking out a false greeting. “How can I help you?” Alice inquired with an edge in her voice that hinted she didn’t trust him in the slightest and wouldn’t hesitate to go to extreme measures. It was a tone Jughead had heard many times before, it was commonly used by people whenever they saw his jacket, or even his motorcycle - both signs that he was a Serpent. Jughead forced a stiff smile, trying to prove that he wasn’t there to do harm, before asking whether Betty was home or not, elaborating hastily that he needed her to check up on his bike (That seemed like a good excuse, plus, it was at least half true. His bike was a wreck). Alice seemed to tense at the mention of her daughter, and suddenly, Jughead felt the urge to run. He had no idea why the hell he had come, he had been telling himself it was all for the bet, but Betty barely knew him, and she would probably hate him after this - Alice didn’t look so happy, in fact, she looked pissed. She shook her blonde curls, her lips a thin line. “She’s at the drive-in,” Alice explained, her voice brittle and icy, a clear indication that Jughead should leave now. The fake smile he had been using as weak armor broke into a million pieces as he rushed back to his own Betty, offering Alice a wave over his shoulder which she didn’t return, simply shutting the door quickly. He eased the engine to life, using the perfect mixture of key turning and the exact amount of gas needed to start. Once the familiar rumble began, shooting vibrations were sent through Jughead as his body bounced up and down along with the bike. He veered into the street, careening down the suburbs which seemed so alien to the boy. Jughead’s hands worked on their own as they steered him in the direction of the drive-in, paying no mind to what Jughead really wanted to do - it didn’t matter, at this point his brain was shut off, relying solely on his heart. And just a little bit on his head, he did have to remember the directions. Upon his arrival at the old school drive-in, Jughead parked his bike in the empty, dusty lot. There were a few other cars here, a red Camaro included. He recognized it from the Anderson’s repair shop, and Jughead connected the dots, concluding that it was indeed Betty’s. A small grin, reserved only for genuine fondness, was adorned on his face, his grey eyes crinkling. He followed the sound of voices, and by the pitch of them he could tell it wasn’t a pleasant conversation being had. As he drew nearer, closing in on the concession stand - located at the bottom floor of the main building, the projection room was on top, and Jughead’s home was in the back - Jughead could single out Betty’s breathless voice from the chorus of people, all of the different words colliding into a massive sound. When Jughead turned the corner, his eyes immediately searched for a head of blonde. His heart tripped when he spotted her, and Jughead hated himself for it. There was only one other person, leading Jughead to confusion, but it made sense considering how loud they were yelling at each other - and with such intensity. He originally thought that there had been multiple people, but it was simple the pair’s angry jumble of consonants and syllables mashing together to create one massive sound. Jughead managed to cling onto a few of Betty’s searing words, “drive-in can’t be…” “not meant to be sold….” “you can’t just…” A hot retaliation was grumbled, a bear-like voice which sounded much similar to gravel in a blender. That was all Jughead needed - he recognized the other voice, labeling the broad figure before him hastily, his stomach turning to lead. Shock jolted through Jughead’s body, ricocheting off his bones like and electric current. “Dad?” Jughead choked out before he could stop himself, looking like a beanie wearing deer in headlights. FP struggled to find the right words as he turned around at his son’s voice slowly, grimacing at the simple motion - still hungover from the previous night. Jughead was surprised he didn’t have alcohol with him currently, but his brain was too numb for it to register anything other than the odd pairing before him. Bewilderment was written all over Betty as she finally noticed Jughead, the way she stood, how her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Her arms slowly unfolded to lay stiffly by her sides, hands still clenched into iron fists. Jughead didn’t know what to do, shifting his gaze between the duo - FP who looked like a child caught doing something he shouldn’t do (but with a really bad hangover), and Betty, who was still huffing and puffing like she just ran a mile. FP was the first to break the short lived silence, attempting to explain what he was doing at the drive-in. His voice was hasty and unsure, Jughead immediately knew he was lying as soon as the words passed his chapped lips. “Juggie, I was just here explaining to this girl that I wouldn’t let them take this place to the ground, especially since it’s one of your favorite places –” “Wait, what?! What planet are you on?” Betty cut him off, scoffing loudly. “You can’t be serious. I was here defending this place, while you were saying it’s going to be taken down, already under contract.” It was Jughead’s turn to clench his hands into balls, turning on his heels. He had to pace, get moving. He couldn’t stand in one place, he would just end up blowing the whole place up - bringing it to the ground his own way. Jughead had been staying at the drive-in for a while now, maybe two weeks. He had been holing up in the back room meant for storage and other useless garbage. He had managed to shove a twin size mattress in there and fit all his stuff (which wasn’t much), and even though it was cramped, it worked. He didn’t have to ask his dad if he was lying, he already knew. Jughead’s mind was turning like mad, all the cogs spinning out of control and into overdrive. He placed his throbbing head between his hands, massaging his temples. He was connecting all the dots at once, everything crashing down on him like waves in a thunderstorm, pulsating and unstoppable. The truth was right there, in his reach, all he had to do was take the final step and grasp it, but he knew once he did there was no turning back. Jughead had no choice. His father had been trying to bring the place down, get Jughead out. “It was you, it’s always been you,” Jughead finally croaked, his voice monotone and emotionless, as stone cold as it could get. Betty shivered at the sound of it, it was so  full of menace and intensity - so unlike the cocky Jughead she had only met that morning. FP wouldn’t meet his son’s pinpointing gaze, shying away from it like a cockroach creeping away from light. “You were the one who left the panties in Mrs. Thorne’s basement! You were the one who stole the key to the storage room at the gas station. You were the one who got rid of the dump! Of course, I should’ve guessed it. How could I have been so blind? Now you’re trying to get me out of here!” Jughead was practically screaming as he finished, nearly pacing a ditch into the dusty ground. Jughead had lived in many various homes after leaving his dad’s trailer, the first being Mrs. Thorne’s basement. She was a kind elderly woman who lived on her own and took pity on Jughead, allowing him to stay in her basement, taking him in like a stray. Her only rule was that no girls were allowed to be brought in the basement. One day, Jughead was out and about, and when he returned, Mrs. Thorne approached him, polka dot panties in hand. Jughead had no explanation, he had never seen those things in his life, which was the truth - he had abided her rules. Still, he was kicked out, and he had to find another replacement house - which turned out to be the gas station storage room, then a dumpster. Jughead never did solve that mystery of the panties, or any of the others involved in ruining his living conditions (the gas storage room key getting stolen, the dumpster getting randomly towed away), he figured it had all been continuous bad luck - until now. It was all FP. “Well, it wasn’t just me, it was mostly my guys…Plus, I wasn’t the one who bought the property, we’ve just been hanging around here, scaring people off, bring the price of the place down so it could sell easier.“ FP articulated hurriedly while Betty watched from the sidelines, confusion clear on her features. Jughead gave him an aghast look, stunned - but then again, he couldn’t be surprised, this was his father he was dealing with. “You can’t be fucking serious,” Jughead stated, not a question or like he was appalled. It was a statement - a fact. “You are your men. You ordered them to hang around here, get up to no good, they were just following your instructions.” FP tried one more time to give his reasoning, blabbering like a caught criminal who knew they were already behind bars. “I just wanted you back - I still do. Jug, you gotta believe me, I was doing this for your own good. I thought that maybe if you didn’t have any of your other makeshift houses to go back to, you would eventually have to come back to me. You just have to come home, okay? That’s all I wanted, all I was doing it for.” Jughead shook his head, it was all too much in such a short time, his mind was bursting from the inside out. From the corner of his eye he saw Betty shifting - unsure of whether she should stay or not, clearly uncomfortable. He would’ve probably felt bad for her if a new wave of numbness hadn’t rushed over him. Jughead’s next words were so clear and so sure, that Betty wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but she didn’t know how. “I don’t have a home.” With that, Jughead turned around, heading towards his junky motorcycle. He scurried onto his bike, wishing to be anywhere but here. Betty trotted after him, but hesitated a few paces before reaching him. A lot just went down, and Betty’s head was still all over the place. She didn’t know what just happened, but she knew it wasn’t good. The original reason she had gone to the drive-in was to investigate for an article, and she figured Jughead would want to hear about what she learned. She internally fought with herself a good bit, nibbling on her lower lip and fidgeting with the hem of her pastel yellow shirt, before settling on a decision. “Pop’s, tomorrow, at 9:00!” Betty shouted just as Jughead revved up his motor, which sounded more like an eighteen wheeler than a small vehicle. Betty really needed to take a better, full-on inspection of that piece of crap. She began to wonder if he heard her, or even cared, when he gave the gas three pumps - booming in the summer air as he speeded away.  Betty took that as a ‘yes.’ Either way, she was going to be there, waiting for the Serpent who was starting to slither his way into her heart little by little.