#jp jones riverdale

[armyangxls]

How my brain works:

Starts a show “Ahh cool there’s hot guys that are near my age / age appropriate” then a few episodes in.. falls in deep hole in love with the hot older/not age appropriate guy {bonas I originally hated the character because they’re an asshole at least in the beginning} {also they have father issues too}

I don’t have issues at all lol /s

✨ father issues ✨

[waterlooletterwrb]

fp jones deserved more than being unhappy with a woman who lied to him only because his daughter is a little devil

[keepcalm-and-beyou]

FP Jones(Riverdale)

Title: So Sick(Ne-yo Song)

“I'm so sick of love songs, so tired of tears So done with wishing you were still here Said I'm so sick of love songs, so sad and slow So why can't I turn off the radio? “

After breaking up with Forsythe Pendleton Jones the 2nd. also known as Fp Jones he had trouble with some things, typical drinking but more than his typical self does, more distant from family and friends. i mean it sure is hard making time to other when drunk off your ass and sick, sick of how life has been and even sick of songs, the kind of songs You and he would share in blissful moments alone together, songs you would sing to him. love songs. Fp Jones was so sick of love songs. 

Fp Jones was tired, tired of life going wrong, love going wrong and tired of tears. the tears he shed behind his closed trailer door, the ones warm and burning from your departure of his life, the ones at times hard to control. 

The man was done wishing for things that wouldn't happen. he wished for your scent to fill his nostrils first thing in the morning when he’d awake to you by his side, his arm lazily draped over your waist and his face buried in your hair. He was so done with wishing that you were still here. 

He kept thinking he was so done with love songs, every time one came on the radio his first instinct was to change it, love songs that are so sad and slow to him yet couldn't figure out why he couldn't turn off the radio. 

Fp had yet to make some changes. the kind he should have done sooner than later in order to help the process of getting over you, but parts of him didn’t want that either. the voice mail you left on his answering machine because his was boring you had said laughing at it then decided when he wasn’t around to change it to your cute voice. and it makes no sense now to have it sense you walked out the door but it was the only way he heard your voice anymore. 

He knew he was stronger than this. its been months and yet he cant find it to get it. And it didn’t help when he’d see you around town, why did Riverdale have to be a small town, many turns he would make you’d be there and in any crowed he would notice your face. 

Walking around with his head down, avoiding stares of everyone. hating eyes on him, pity feelings from his pears and attempted reassuring smiles that life goes on. He doesn’t want to be doing this anymore head down being so blue crying over You. 

Fp had been sitting in his trailer on his old fashioned couch holding his beer tightly taking long gulps of the liquor easily finishing a few beers prior to this one. he had a few tear stains let he let slip while thinking again about you wishing you were still here. there was light sound in the background. music playing on a radio in the kitchen. it was hard to make out most of any tune coming from the old radio but Fp knew very well what song had just come on. a song, a love song he had only heard in his life because of You. a beautiful song, a slow song, the sweetest melody, but that sweet sound was a little bitter to his ears. that bittersweet sound, it being sad to him and now had reach the chorus Your favourite part to sing the loudest to and that’s when he felt a slight snap in him. he had gotten up fast with big strides to the kitchen hit hard on the off button and  instantly pressing it back on, finding it hard to turn off the radio. 

As Fp was flipping through his calendar he had noticed a date marked. he had noticed who marked the date. it being You. the little red hearts around the boarder and written in your small hand writing was the word Anniversary. A shaky breath leaving his mouth knowing that he has to fix the calendar marked July 15th because without you clearly there’s no more anniversary. More and more thoughts coming to his mind. thoughts of you and him sharing little anniversary like silly teenagers, one month anniversary, three month anniversary, thoughts of how much even the little things and time like that was important to you to insure him that he is special in your mind, and now its ruining his mind. so fed up of those thoughts and memories now its like every song reminds him of what use to be. 

And that’s the reason He is so sick of love songs, being so tried of tears, so done with wishing you were still here, those damn sad and slow love songs and still cant turn off any damn radio. 

He was cleaning up his side bed table catching glimpse of something heart shattering. a photo, a photo of You and him. in the photo you you both were smiling, not the posed basic smile people take for pictures no no real smiles, smiles plastered on your faces before knowing a picture was being taken. All he could think was Leave me alone. don’t make me think of her smile don’t make me see her smile, don’t make me feel this way while looking at that smile, or how we could of had a child. a little sibling to add to the family he wanted to be, jug approved of you, heck that beanie boy had loved you like family, breaking Fps heart more so after you left. He needs to let it go, he need to be able to turn off any radio.

How many more times can he tell him self he’s so sick of love songs, so tired of tears, so darn done with wishing you were still here, they are so damn sad and slow! why cant he just turn off the radio?

He laid in his bed missing the feeling of your skin touching his, missing that giggle leaving your soft sweet lips, even missing your tossing and turning, missing your frustrated sighs on the nights you cant sleep, missing your kind voice babbling about anything and everything. hearing enough love songs these months on the radio got his head filled with them. his eyes started watering hearing a familiar tune again but this time in his head. again wishing you were here. the tune running through his mind in a sad slow manner, if his head was a radio he’d probably have just as much difficulty turning it off. why cant he turn off the radio? he really wants to turn off the radio, he’s scared to turn off the radio, would turning it off make it real, make him really have to get over you? he wants to stop feeling the hurt but he does not want to lose more of you even if its killing him inside. He cant do it yet he isn’t ready to change that voice mail, to possibly never hearing your voice so sweet again, he isn’t ready to mark that calendar off ruining your beautiful writing, and he sure as hell isn’t ready to turn off the radio. 

[purplezombietumbler]

FP: “Oh, 'cause I keep digging myself down deeper. I won't stop till I get where you are. I keep running when both my feet hurt! I won't stop till I get where you are!”

[jugpea]

23, oof pls

23. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

With skillful fingers, he touches the green surface and angles the pool cue. His victory had come quickly tonight, as it had every other night for the last week. Unsure of where the horseshoe had come from, or why it was shoved up his ass, he certainly didn’t squander the opportunity to make a little extra pocket change.

He wondered if the horseshoe could provide him with a little more help in another section of his life. It had been months since Sweets had first set his eyes on Jughead Jones, and truthfully, he hadn’t been able to look away since. Completely enamored with the teens fiery spirit and dorky persona, he spent the following weeks trying to fit into his good graces. 

Son of the Serpent King, he should have viewed the teen as another threat for the throne. But it appeared as though Jones had no desire to follow in his father’s steps, at least not when it came to the title. Another fifty tucked safely into his wallet, Pea sauntered towards the bar with his eyes glued to the back of Jughead’s frame.

He slid up along the counter, plucking the lime from Jug’s cola. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Sweet Pea lifts his brows and cracks a smile in victory as Jughead’s previously gloomy features melt softly into a sort of delight. 

Pea’s chest filled with warmth. 

“Passing the time.” Jughead concedes with nod, sucks on the straw that floated out of his drink. “I was trying to sleep, but I just can’t seem to get my mind to stop. Nothing makes much sense, anyhow, so it’s more of a headache than anything.” 

“You’re distracted,” Sweet Pea offered, nodding in understanding when Jughead frowned in confirmation. He brought his hands up to rest on the teens shoulders, thumbs gently working against the knot kinked into the back of his neck; he noticed when Jug’s head dropped abruptly and his frame vibrated with his pleased hum. “See, you just need a little TLC.”

“Unless you’re offering your services free of charge, I’m SOL. Massage therapy is expensive.” he countered with sigh, resting his forehead in his palms. 

Sweet Pea chewed on his lip thoughtfully, eyes uncovering another mole just under the collar of his jacket. “I don’t mind giving you a massage.” he shrugs, “though I do have one request in return?”

Jughead’s frame stiffens under his hands. 

“Mind if I steal your hot water a couple times a week? My water heater broke.”

The teen relaxes, and he shoots the Serpent a smile over his shoulder, “Yeah, I think I can swing that.”

“Great.” Pea smiles, patting Jughead’s back lightly, “No time like the present.”

[ifyouseekay468]

All I’m saying is that season three of riverdale better have a “Cheryl and Toni report the sisters of quiet mercy to the authorities and, if ignored, organize a mass jail break with help of the south side serpents who end up taking in any victim who doesn’t have a safe home situation to return to while advocating for the statewide/nationwide ban on conversion therapy,” arc Because otherwise the whole sisters of quiet mercy arc is petty, useless, and if anything makes conversion therapy seem “edgy” and “impossible” instead of raising actual awareness like the writers should be doing.

Bonus: it would make it even better if Alice got involved and, realizing Berry’s disinterest on the issue, confronts her on her homophobia

[camelely]

Me: MORE SCREEN TIME FOR FANGS

Writers: Okay theres this episode about everyone thinking he killed midge and then he dies

Me: NOT WHAT I MEANT!

[alicecooperisbi]

A part of me really really REALLY wants to read falice fanfiction but another part of me doesn’t want to cry again

[marigoldwitch]

does anyone else watch riverdale? am i the only one completely crushing on fp? it might be because i remember him like this:

and this

and this

but i mean, look at him, he’s still super cute 

now i’m going to go watch scream again lol

[riverdale-gay-ships]

Sheriff Keller: *gesture to cell* Sir I believe this is yours.

FP: *smiles wickedly meanwhile drinking cheap beer with Joaquin behind bars *

Fred: I have never seen these men in my life.

Sheriff Keller: ...

FP: ...

Joaquin: ...

Fred: ...

Sheriff Keller: You´re married to him... and that´s your step-son.

Kevin: *entering the police station* WHAT THE DUCK JOAQUIN!

[with-deaths-constraint-on-me]

Where is all the Southside Serpents and Sons of Anarchy crossovers is what I am asking?

[mxsshufflherinx]

Skeet Ulrich as FP Jones from Riverdale icons.

ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛs.

Like or reblog if you save it.

Credits on twitter ; HERE.

[jugpea]

42 seems Angsty/cute and me likey

42. “You’re always on my mind.”

Please enter a dollar-twenty-five for an additional five minutes - 

“Jeez, Jug, what happened to your phone?”

Jughead sighs in frustration as he pushes another few quarters into the payphone and leans against the structure, “I may or may not have left my charger at a coffee shop.” he admits with a wince.

“Figures. You’re gone for, what? Two weeks now, and you’re already without a cellphone.” Sweet Pea’s bitterness is evident in his tone; he had returned home after helping Fogarty with Joaquin’s body, and found the note tacked to the door of his trailer. It had taken several hours of texting back and forth to convince Sweet Pea that Jughead wasn’t leaving him, but merely joining his friend for a portion of his journey. 

“It wasn’t intentional.” the blue eyed teen kicks a rock towards the road. “We overstayed our welcome, s’all.”

He’s met with another sigh from the other end. 

“I’ll be home soon.” he promises, glancing over to where the redhead sat out of earshot, then adjusted the receiver. “In spite of recent events and all of this game bullshit, being out here with Arch just isn’t the same, and I miss you so much.”

“Fuck, Juggie,” Jughead’s eyes close at the break in his boyfriend’s deep voice, gripping the phone tighter in his hand, sad he couldn’t offer him any comfort. “I feel like a hot mess. Can’t sleep, can’t eat. You’re always on my mind.” 

“I know.” the teen sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Soon. I’m heading to see my mom, I’ll be home after that. There’s gotta be a cord there, I’ll facetime you as soon as I can.”

There’s another frustrated growl, followed by a loud bang that has Jughead pulling the phone away from his ear; after a moment or two of silence, Sweet Pea finally speaks, “I don’t want a facetime call, okay? I want you home. I - we need you here.”

Jughead smiles at the stutter in his words, nodding to himself as a silent promise to try his best to make it home to his Sweet Pea. “Okay.”

“Good.” his tone, albeit definitive and strong, held the slightest bit of surprise. “I’ll let you go then. Sooner you’re there, the sooner you get home. Get walkin’.” 

[camelely]

With every passing episode i get more attached to the serpents (and juggie) and the parents and less attached to the mains 

[phoenixbaby88]

I was tagged by the lovely @joaqz-phoenix and @antonija89

1. Name: Amanda

2. Nickname: Mandy

3. Zodiac Sign: Taurus

4: Height: 5’5

5. Languages: English and a little bit of Spanish ( Please don’t judge because I don’t speak fluent Spanish.)

6. Nationality: Mexican American

7. Favorite Season: Spring

8. Favorite Flower: Cherry Blossom

9.Favorite Scent: Fabric Softener, wet grass, and rain

10. Favorite Color: purple

11. Favorite Animal: cat

12. Favorite Fictional Character: any character of Joaquin Phoenix, Usagi Tskino aka Sailor Moon, Ami Mizuno aka Sailor Mercury, Catwoman (Selina Kyle - Batman), Harley Quinn (Batman the animated series) , Jughead Jones (Riverdale/Archie Comics), Betty Copper ( Riverdale/ Archie Comics), Seth Cohen (The O.C), Ryan Atwood (The O.C), Summer Cooper (The O.C), and so many more that I can’t remember right now.

13. Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: It’s a tie between tea and hot chocolate

14. Average Sleep Hours: 5 or 6 hours b/c I wake up early for my job. On days off or weekends it’s 8 hrs which makes me so happy. I love to get a good nights rest.

15. Dog or Cat Person: cat but I love both

16. Number of blanets you sleep with: 2

17. Dream Trip: California, New York City, Paris, London and so many others. I would love to travel more!!! Even though I hate packing for it. 😂

18. Blog Established: This blog Fall or winter 2019, my other one 2008 or 2009

19. Followers: at the moment 55

20. Random Fact: did you know Dee Ramones was in love with Joey Ramones girlfriend. Lol ( I reader it in a book)

Now tag 20 others !!!!!

@darknessisafriend , @fleckcmscott, @holo-peachy, @jokerflecker , @slightcinephile , @you-are-my-soul-fan , @the-fanficcer , @mama-mischief , @honking4joker , @pcrushinnerd , @obsessedandthirsty , @tupsirock , @princessledger , @mardema , @smitty19934 , @purinblossom , @cbiscoolasamoose , @spacefizz , @lucius-hunt , @penc4 , @moonstruck-witchy , @arthur-is-my-lord , @prsjaney , @one-little-spark-of-madness , @emlovesjoaq , @obsessedwithfandomsx, @wendel-71 , @frauschneiderr , @sadhentaii , @akvles, @you-can’t-cry-in-here, @scnslumiere, @thestoneofsisyphus , @neon-umbrella-for-stella , @katwens , @joaquinscircletattoo , @omfgpennywise , @lady-carnivals-stuff , @jp-joker-fangirl84 , @groovytrashflowershepherd , @papercut-paranoia , @ridiculousnerd , @syvellsworld , @phoenixjoaqin

If I forgot anyone or if you just want to do this your welcome too or if you don’t want to do this that is fine as well.

[malereader-inserts]

Strip My Soul

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Jughead Jones & Brother!Reader, FP Jones & Son!Reader Summary: Death wasn’t pretty but Life isn’t a fool either. Word Count: 1607 Request: “as always i’m down for any son!reader either be it Cullen or jones reader! -JP” Warning: death, blood, injury A/n: Someone request angst but idk if they wanted Cullen family angst so I just made angst. You guys really want angst but idk if this is written well because I know I can do better.

Joneses were always good at running away

Running away from threats, from their problems, from their own mistake.

Jughead was the king of mistakes, he didn’t know how to rule the Serpents and you knew full well that he was struggling. You never said a word, offered advice, helped around a little but you could tell that your father was judging Jughead’s moves as if it was the judgement day.

But no matter what the Joneses always stuck together. You defended your family to the grave, and it seemed like you did. 

Somewhere along the way, the three of you had gone out to the Riverdale’s dance. Mayor Lodge put it on at the school’s hall as a distraction of the wrecking of the Town. The three of you had separated ways at the dance, hearing rumours about Hiram planning an attack.

You took guard of the entrance door to the hall, pacing the corridors as you felt jitters run up and down your spine. You knew something wasn’t right, something was going to happen and you didn’t know what. Jughead was close by as he was down the corridor with your dad at the entrance of the school.

Your hand shoved into your suit pockets. Leaning against the locker with one foot propped against the blue mental cabinets, you can hear the music blasting from the inside, people enjoying the night away with their dresses and fancy suits - feeling like a normal town.

You looked up from your phone when you see the door open, a man you had recognised left the dance.

“Hey man,” You called out, he stopped suddenly looking at you, “If you’re looking for the gents’ room, it’s that way-”

You stopped yourself short when you realised that he was Hiram’s man. You see his eyes connecting the dots as you both lunged into each other.

“Jughead!” You called, being thrown against the locker, “Umph.”

You wheezed out as the henchman’s fist came colliding to your face, your head smacking the metal. Dazed and confused, you see his knuckles coming your way before managing to duck down, allowing you to uppercut the man.

“(Y/n)!” Jughead calls out, dashing down the hallway with your dad hot on his heels.

Kneeing the man, his back collides with the wall. Realising he was up against three Joneses he takes out a gun. The three of you froze, trying not to get in the way of his aim - the rumours were right. Someone was going to attack the dance, though the target was still unknown. 

It was a tangled mess, you didn’t remember anything and Jughead forgot the whole ordeal. All you remember a gunshot ringing out and FP finally able to take down the man, smacking his head against the flooring of the school - rendering him unconscious.

FP calls out for his police force to keep on patrol. Jughead sneering down at the man, not realising you standing behind your father and your brother. How you heard a gunshot but didn’t know where the bullet landed. The adrenaline was wearing off, you could feel your arms become heavy and sore, you can feel the areas the man had landed good punches.

But there was a searing pain under your jacket coat. You pulled your suit jacket back and you finally noticed how it was stained red. Your white shirt was slowly becoming red. You looked up as you met eyes with your brother.

Real blood is nothing like movie blood, just as real death is nothing like movie death. There is no amount of horror that can prepare a person for seeing the life ebb from another, the hopelessness, the tearing at the soul that is the departing of the other. 

“(Y/n)-”

Your knees crumbled as Jughead caught you, placing you gently on the ground and his hands immediately flying to the wound. 

“Dad!” There was a painful scream, his voice broke - he was terrified, “Someone call 911!”

Jughead looked back down at you, you had become paler than usual. Your hand gripped your brother’s wrist. FP was quick to look over his shoulders, his eyes widening and his heart missing a beat when he sees a small pool of blood form around your lying body, he noticed how Jughead was staining his suit pants.

FP was quick to handcuff the man, in hopes that he was unconscious long enough for one of his employees was going to retrieve the man. He was quick to move to sit across Jughead, quick to try and comfort you, stroke your hair as he speaks softly.

“(Y/n)?” He spoke softly, noticing you blink so slowly.

“Am I dying?” You whispered, eyes glazed over but there was panic in your voice.

“Absolutely not, you’re-” FP paused for a moment, “You’re not going to die.”

This was the first time you had ever heard your father cry, it wasn’t like him really. He never cried when he lost your sister and your mother. You were never present when Jughead almost got murdered, he refused to show himself to you. But, my god, he was scared and there is so much blood.

“I don’t want to die.”

You whispered, soft yet there was so much fright. Your pupils dilate, your skin becomes cold and suddenly your out of breath.

“He’s going into shock,” Jughead noted, before putting more pressure on the wound, “Someone help!” 

Jughead’s cried almost were drowned out, Jughead’s grip was becoming weak. How his eyes were full of tears, he was gasping for air. He couldn’t have a panic attack whilst you were bleeding to death.

“I don’t want to die,” You mumbled, again and again, the pain was spreading around as you heard footsteps coming closer to you, “Make it stop, i-it hurts!”

“Jughead?” It was Betty’s voice, “We called 911, they’re on their way.”

“Do you hear that boy?” FP asked, trying to calm himself down, “They’re on their way,”

You nodded, but only so weakly as Jughead bit his lip. It was his fault, he should have protected you better. Jughead knew it was his fault, or rather that he was convinced it was his mistake.

Your body was screaming, it was practically on fire. Your ribs felt like enclosing into your organs as your vision became blurred. Blinking the blur away but you just couldn’t, your head was buzzing as if there was a permanent static blaring.

Breathing was hard and your family was cursing how slow the emergency service was taking. Your grip on Jughead’s wrist loosen, it suddenly dropped from his wrist to your stomach.

Jughead finally blinked away the tears away, noticing the lack of your murmurs, your groans of pain. He looks at you and dread filled him up. Death wasn't kind. Jughead knew that. It snatched where it could, taking people who were far too young, far too good. It didn't pretend to care, it didn't pretend to distinguish. The hooded vale of death had hung over the world for a long time, always threatening. It had never touched Jughead quite so close. 

Death had ripped away a part of him, the part of him that was most loved, his beloved brother never deserves this.

“No, no, come back to me-” Jughead cried, sobbed even, his hands leaving your wound and grabbing the lapels of your suit jacket, “(Y/n)!”

FP snapped his head to you, everything stopped. His heart ached to see your dull eyes staring at his. He wished he could see the rise and fall of your chest, even if they were shallow breaths yet nothing came about. 

Death stalked the town of Riverdale. There was no abode he wouldn't enter, no school or church. He stood as the life was choked out of almost every man, woman and child. He felt no joy or emotion of any kind, there was no heart to beat in his skeletal chest or tears to well in his black sockets. 

FP had to stay strong, he couldn’t but he had to, especially when the police arrived. Betty watched shocked as FP choked back his tears, watching his only son cry on his brother. 

“Please, p-lease,” Jughead begged, oh how did he beg. He would wish upon every star and moon just for you to be breathing, to be alive.

“Jug-” FP spoke from behind his son, no matter how he wanted to stay there and hold his son for one last time he couldn’t, “You have to let him go-”

“No!” Jughead wailed, gripping your clothes tighter, “That’s my brother! Don’t take him away from me!”

FP’s hands were shaking as he grabs Jughead’s arm and pulls him away from your body. He had to hold Jughead back, his arms flying everywhere, trying to struggle out and run back to you.

Jughead screamed, like a little boy, he was begging and pleading.

“That’s my brother! Give him back!” 

FP couldn’t do anything because he remembers the first time he held you as a baby, alcohol seemed to be a great idea - to drown the lost.

Jughead wanted you again, his struggling stopped as he holds onto his dad. His hands were shaking, stained with your blood, he closes his eyes trying to forget the image from his mind. It was burned into him as FP holds Jughead strongly, refusing to let him go. Betty stalked off, telling the news to her mother, Archie and Fred Andrews. 

The rumour was true, someone was going to attack at the dance. The suspect? 

(Y/n) Jones.

The boy who knows far too much.

Death was cruel yet Life was crueller.