#like it doesn't have to be Jughead who desires her

[arsenicpanda]

So interesting how every girl in 50s Riverdale can be desirable except Ethel. Gee, I sure do wonder what's different about her

[pacific-rimbaud]

i was reading your thoughts on how fans felt about l&oha and while i concur it is a perfect piece of work in my head and have reread it 5x, i wonder if you think fans tend to be harsher/more critical of hermione and let draco slide? i see it a lot in fics where he's more of an alphahole type

Oh, man. Okay. The can is open, the worms are loose. Rant under the cut.

I'm actually going to set men aside entirely. Just. To the side with you. I desperately need more realistically complicated men, too, but that's a whole separate discussion. Right now: women.

There must be whole dissertations out there on the phenomenon of readers hating female characters with negative traits. I'm a fandom old, so I didn't grow up identifying with Hermione, and wouldn't have even if I'd been young enough to. I did that "which character are you" test just now and my top three matches were Janis Ian from Mean Girls, Jughead from Riverdale and April from Parks and Rec, which, massive grain of salt, etc. BUT gives you an idea. I am not a Hermione and never was, so she's never been a comfort character or self-insert for me. Some of my favorite fictional women are Sophie Hatter (mean, irrational, petty, old and mostly loving it), Harrowhark Nonagesimus (evil stick), Phryne Fisher (zero fucks to give). What I like about Hermione is how imperfect she is. I'm a "cleverest witch of your age I've ever met" truther (book!Lupin is absolutely saying "you're the canniest 14 year-old child I have personally met, saying this as a guy who doesn't get out much," not "you are a once-in-a-century genius"), and from my perspective, she's often wrong and often a dick, and not in a fun and fiesty burn-down-the-world BAMF way. Which. Good for her! Be human.

And that's the thing. I personally don't want Hermione to be perfect, I want her to be what I think she is, textually, which is intelligent, hardworking, loyal, competitive, compassionate, controlling, belittling, rude, petty, insecure, vindictive, volatile. She has the right to be that way, because she's human. The desire for perfected women (or unapologetically and unstoppably awful ones, another brand of female power fantasy) is not limited to Dramione fandom. I think it's amplified in DHr by many readers who DO identify as former gifted children, books-as-coping-mechanism kids and Strong Female Personalities who felt marginalized in childhood and want to see Hermione have it all: she's slim, she's tiny, she's fragile as a bird, she'll break your neck, she'll step on your throat, she'll tear down the system, she'll heal all wounds, she does not need help, she holds all the knowledge, she holds all the cards, she is forever wronged, she can do no wrong, her vagina is tight, her nipples are hard, her hair is on point, her waist is tiny, her tits are bouncing, her ass is in the style of Now. And like. This isn't at all unique to DHr and Hermione. It's pervasive in fiction written by and for women. Female power fantasies are obviously feeding a massive hunger. It's just not what I personally want. Personally, I find it alienating and uncomfortable, which I know equates to, "That is wrong and shouldn't exist" to a lot of people, but that's its own tale as old as time.

There's a disconnect that happens too often where a reader wants one (1) thing from their fiction, and receives something else, even when the contents are clearly labeled on the tin. In this case, wanting a female power fantasy and encountering a woman who's written with flaws makes people upset. And maybe if we could be more honest with ourselves about what we're looking for when we read, work to accept that not everyone wants the same experience, and learn to close a book when it's not working for us and say, "No shade, this isn't for me," it would be less upsetting when we encounter a character who isn't written to meet our personal expectations. I will open a book, realize the FMC is a female power fantasy archetype and close it, because that's not what I show up for. I like my women gritty and weird and foolish and vulnerable and liable to hurt people and feel terrible about it. Give me all the exhausting chatterers and evil sticks and jocks with swords and their hearts on their sleeves (their hearts ripped out), give me shy Anne Elliot and her suitcase full of regrets and the ugly fuckup who never has a glow up, give me dirtbag stoners and Fleabag and Alicent Hightower apologetics and every role Natasha Lyon has ever played. It's not a moral high ground, it's about a preference for seeing actual, demeritus flaws on the page and on the screen. Blame that woman. It's her fault. She has so many faults. Then show me how to forgive her so I can figure out how to forgive myself.

The thing is, I love women. I love women so fucking much. I want to be around them, to get to know them, to read about them, to watch them on TV and see them in films. And personally, I like them ugly. Physically. Spiritually. Morally. Give a woman a Bad Personality and watch her succeed in the most self-injurious way possible, fuck you. Give her a gaping chest wound and line it with teeth. Stick a piece of grit in that girl's tightly sealed shell so that a pearl is her only option. Make her love other women, make her fuck it up, make her have to earn them back.

Thankfully I do feel like we're getting more ugly women in fiction, especially BIPOC, queer and marginalized women who deserve gross, weird, nasty representation and not just didactic moralism, patronization and misguided sainthood. Some readers won't want that, and that's fine. Again, personally (it's all so personal, please, please remember that when you hit that comment button), I'm here for it. If you write about women like this, know that you have a thirsty reader here. I'm swallowing them up. I'm smacking my lips. I'm smashing my mug on the cafeteria floor and calling for another.

[bireggiemantle]

not the previous anon but PLEASE talk about jarchie s5, i need it

hi anon 👋🏼 it's been a while since I've sat down for a s5 watch-through so forgive the murky details but in essence:

While physically leaving Riverdale, Jughead never really left Riverdale. the only stories he's been able to write are glorified memoirs, the only success he's known has been routed in nostalgia for the town, and his only sense of identity has ever been his role amongst his high school friends. Jughead doesn't know who he is outside of the isolated and misunderstood writer archetype he's spent his entire life crafting for himself. he's still clinging to the only relationships he's ever known and he's begun blurring the lines between comforting and harmful memories. his dynamic with betty is especially fascinating here because he both resents her for shattering the safety and familiarity that the ease of their relationship provided but he also yearns for her because of a desire to have that safety and familiarity back. he turns to alcohol to cope with all of this, only to be haunted by the reflection of his father in the mirror, and that causes him to spiral further. and let's not forget that he feels abandoned by the only home he's ever known. nobody showed up the pop's when he returned. nobody went to his book signing. nobody's called him in years. he doesn't have anything tying him to riverdale anymore and yet he still can't seem to leave, his mind still trapped in this town and it's influence. so of course he comes back when archie calls. of course there's no hesitation. riverdale is home to him, and so is archie. archie, who, even after seven long years, feels exactly the same in the way jughead's been craving.

and I bet he remembers that offer archie extended back in high school. when jughead was trying to clean up his father's act (before becoming his father as an adult. how ironic) and archie was playing the part of hiram's lapdog, archie suggested that they run away together. that they escape to the city, to the exact village where jughead's on the precipice of being evicted from his apartment. that jughead pursues the very career he's failing at currently. and I bet he thinks archie's forgotten, that archie's off doing the kinds of heroic deeds he's always dreamed of, succeeding when jughead's not because he's never really needed any of them the way that jughead needs him.

and of course jughead wouldn't want to come running back to archie's font porch looking for asylum, but he doesn't know where else to go. the home that betty once provided is no longer available, and everybody else is angry with him over his book. he feels guilty imposing on archie like this, but he also can't help it, drawn back to archie's warm smile and forgiving eyes even if it means sleeping in his garage.

i think the two of them could have really used each other to heal during this season. both of them are living a life that parallels their fathers, for better or for worse. for jughead it's a curse of alcoholism and angry girlfriends and for archie it's a desperate goal (and wild mischaracterization) to have half the legacy as his dad. and both of them are suffering as a result of this. they also still know each other so well, even after seven years apart. jughead's committed every detail of archie to memory after all, and filling in the gaps would be simple albeit uncomfortable.

i think they both still care deeply for each other but their shared lack of self makes it hard to truly verbalize that, and I would've loved to have seen more of them being vulnerable with each other. late nights or early mornings shared in Archie's dimly lit kitchen, eyes glossy as they recount the blur of adult life prior to returning to riverdale. archie helping clean jughead up after a long night, throwing out the empty bottles and carrying him to the couch to make sure he's warm and okay. jughead awkwardly trying to comfort a grieving archie as he looks through pictures of his friends from the army. i just think they could've been really good for each other. i think they could've built a much needed home for each other.

i have a couple of pieces on ao3 exploring this dynamic if you're interested anon. id be happy to provide links/summaries if you'd like. and if there's anything specific about this dynamic you want my thoughts on please feel free to send another ask :)

[redbuddi]

How will you handle the characterization of characters like Sam and Tucker? Danni?

What are some of the biggest changes to the overall story you are looking forward to exploring?

*cracks knuckles* alright here we go!

Sam and Tucker are extremely important to the series, more important than I think people tend to give them credit for, and that importance would be retained in Redux.

Tucker would be more or less the same as the OG Tuck, he's still a big tech geek, still loves meat, is still simultaneously the comic relief and the voice of reason depending on the situation, etc. I mostly plan on just making a few subtle tweaks to his character to flesh him out a bit more than the show was willing to.

Now is the time to mention that Redux will take place the same year the OG show came out, 2004. So the tech that Tucker salivates over will be tech that's dated by our standards, he still uses a PDA like a cell-phone, and carries around a lot of big chunky gadgets like portable CD players and such. While he is mostly a programming guy, he will build and invent things, and will help Danny do the same. He invented Danny's goggles and co-invented the Thermos with Danny.

Tucker is the most emotionally available of the trio, he doesn't always have solutions but he's willing to hear people out, and with his weak constitution he is the least fond of fighting, tho not purely pacifistic. He is the most outgoing of the group as well, but doesn't desire popularity, he's pretty satisfied with his lot in life. He's just a pretty amicable guy and likes to talk a lot. Like in the show, he's been friends with Danny for the longest, and knows him the best.

"Time to hack the mainframe..."

*swats away computer*

"Hello! This is the front desk, right? Sorry, I'm new and no one's told me the company password yet..."

I'd also take out his more wannabe-casanova traits, cause it's just kind of uncomfortable. I see him as more of a jughead-type, commenting on the drama and romance from the sidelines while never himself being too interested in it. He'll still joke about ladies loving him, but it'd be more tongue-in-cheek and self-aware.

Overall he tends to try to outsmart or talk his way out of situations, which can be a huge help, but also sometimes makes things worse. His smooth-talking has a 50/50 success rate.

He has a pretty good relationship with his parents, but can be kind of distant with his Dad, who is pretty overbearing and really wants Tucker to follow in his footsteps as the Mayor. It would be a running joke that Tucker is so disinterested in being the Mayor that he often times doesn't even justify his dad with a response. He will literally just leave if he can tell that that's where a conversation is going.

Sam is probably the character that would be overhauled the most. The OG Sam isn't terrible, but is very obviously an attempt at a counter-cultural character by people who know nothing about counter-culture.

The biggest change I'd make is that she no longer comes from old money. I get what the OG show was trying to do, but even as a little kid I couldn't really buy it or her whole rebellious thing. Not when she still greatly benefited from her family's money.

Instead, she comes from a well-off upper middle-class house, and she hates her parents. Not just because they don't understand her, but because her parents are actually horrible. Her Dad is a lawyer who is always looking for loopholes to get the rich out of trouble, and her Mom runs an MLM selling cheap clothes to desperate housewives (Think LuLaRoe). Her parents don't not love her, but they are deeply terrible people who, at the end of the day, only really care about themselves. Sam has sworn to do everything in her power to not be like them. The only reason she hasn't run away is because they're not home often enough for her to have to deal with them too much.

Danny: "Ow! Watch where you're poking!"

She tries to do as much on her own as she can, up to and including making basically everything she wears out of discount clothes and thrift shop purchases. While she does get an allowance, she doesn't spend any of it, she's saving her money so that she can leave home the moment she turns 18 and never look back. She is more interested in fashion than she often lets on, and dreams of running an eco-friendly fair trade boutique. After destroying capitalism, of course. She designed and made the alterations to Danny's jumpsuit, with the help of spectral thread that Danny had invented for her birthday.

In this series, Sam isn't just a holier-than-thou goth girl, she's a full-on anarchist punk-rock bitch, and she's proud of it. She will always speak her mind when she feels an injustice is taking place, and unlike in the OG series, Danny and Tucker will usually be there to back her up. That said, there's plenty that she gets up to on her own, she has had her brushes with the law, she's gotten into fights, she does not protest peacefully, and she usually doesn't involve Danny or Tucker because she doesn't want them to feel obligated to help her and then get hurt because of it.

She is strongly antisocial, and generally pretty closed off. She is the type of person who will listen to everyone's problems but won't speak about her own unless pushed. She is deeply loyal to and protective of her friends, sometimes to the point of being a little overbearing.

As for Danni, I certainly have thoughts, but I haven't settled completely on how she would fit in to the overall story. I do want her to be in the series, I just need to figure out what her deal would be.

EDIT! Completely forgot to answer the second part of the question!

The biggest change I'm looking forward to is giving Valerie more screen time, haha.

[the-epic-hiram-lows]

Crossover episode! Which non Archie Comics property should Archie and his friends interact with?

If you ask me again, I'll probably say something different, because this doesn't feel like it would be final answer if my brain were working. However... Saltburn.

In essence, Saltburn is a great foil to Riverdale. It is like a set of fraternal twins who bear a strong resemblance. A crossover would provide some very interesting interactions that could potentially change the characters significantly.

They explore a lot of the same themes:

Jughead as an academic outsider vs. Oliver as an academic outsider

Archie as a typical guy's guy who harbors an oft-exploited hero complex vs. Felix (identical description, but my computer won't let me copy paste rn for some reason????)

Several characters as bastard children/half-children who get the cold shoulder vs. Farleigh, cousin and charity case, the son of a disgraced aristocrat

the theme of predatory people in power (Farleigh's mother seemingly getting groomed as a teenager, the Lolita book in the back of the lecture which was very intentional for reasons I won't explain unless asked because it's not relevant, the mobster heavily implied to be behind his girlfriend's untimely death, etc)

Homoeroticism

But they are also different in how they paint people. Everyone would be much worse or much better after a crossover episode, which is what I crave. It's psychological torture, a therapy session, and heightened drama all in one.

Felix is written to be full of intentional kindness and unintentional cruelty. His hero complex is strong, but his privilege made him unaware of his casual unkindness and misogyny. Like Archie, he seemingly exists to be an object of desire, but he is both oblivious and obliging about it. Archie would probably hate Felix, but Felix would love Archie- and maybe disarm him, as he is known to do.

Saltburn is a lot greyer, morally-speaking, and purposefully so. How often does a story make you feel bad for a family with ancestral wealth? Riverdale is very clear about who is good and who is bad. Sometimes people will act outside of their prescribed label, and you have some people (like Kevin) who constantly do stupid things but without malice, but Saltburn characters would leave you constantly guessing if they are showing you their entire deck or not (again, I should not to card game metaphors, but I keep doing it.)

Venetia is, like... an entire season of Riverdale. An acidic socialite with extreme self esteem issues, a borderline incestuous relationship and lots of family trauma. I'd love to see Veronica interact with her. She would give Venetia the attention she aches for and talk her out of purging every meal. Now, if you've seen Saltburn, you might be thinking 'but that's what Oliver did.' And you would be right, except his motivations were very different.

Since Oliver is written as a vampiric metaphor, imagine what actual supernatural elements would allow him to do.

In general, giving Riverdale characters access to people with 11 figure bank accounts would multiply everything by ten. The good can do more good, but imagine Hiram holed up in a gothic castle with aristocratic figures. Think of the far-reaching schemes he could concoct.

Saltburn has no qualms about scandal. The type of corruption we see in Riverdale is nothing compared to what we would see if Riverdale were written by Emerald Fennell. While Riverdale finds joy in gasps, the gasps it gets are due to silliness or huge plot twists. Saltburn has both- it never takes itself seriously, and has plenty of twists and turns- but it doesn't shy away from the depravity of human nature. Also, yeah, those scenes (iykyk,) which show a lack of politeness a platform like The CW demands of its stories.

Jughead and Betty would have a shit ton of story/investigation fodder. If nothing else, Saltburn (the location) contains what is essentially a museum about itself within its walls that they could dive into, but they would inevitably find a family secret to unravel. Maybe they'd solve Pamela's whole thing? If the crossover is during the events of the movie, they would absolutely change the outcome.

Farleigh is both a tragic, sensitive figure and a conniving opportunist. He and Cheryl would have some amazing conversations. He'd also absolutely hook up with Kevin, and probably somebody's parent. Depending on who else he interacts with, he might get some primo therapy as well.

The setting of Saltburn is such a great place to put serial killers, time travel, and witches. The setting of Riverdale is such a great place to put vengeful would-be heirs, cocaine-sniffing socialites, nudity, puke, social climbers, and death as a metaphor for sex.

The atmosphere in Riverdale would be thicker with tension. A sense that there is potentially sex or murder at the end of every interaction.

[wolviecore]

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

---

There's something so inticing and so provocative and sweet in taking something that's not yours.

Jughead doesn't think about it, not much, isn't allowed to; it hurts a bit too deeply, just a pinch too close to a vein waiting to pop. " Do we get cookies again today?"

He loves the daycare; it's so normal and so mundane and such a splash of victory over this green greyscale hellhole of rags and blades that Jughead loves with everything in him.

He never felt safe around here, not with his father's hissing switchblade under a pillow or a protective hold around him and Jellybean. But these babies can be, - he's making sure. An ambassador's job only gets so much done, - but it gets them done.

Jughead plays fair, but he plays to win.

He smiles, as always, lips like a promise over their chubby cheeks, full of cake and face paint. " I'll talk to our supplier, and weasel out some great deals. As long as we remember not to get mud on the carpets."

They groan and they projectile their stuffies at him, if they're old enough to aim. The actual babies are fast asleep, waiting for their parents, mother, or father to slither by and tiredly take their played out toddlers or infants home, all with the same words on their lips.

" I didn't expect you to be good at this.''

There's nothing to really say; Jughead himself had no idea he'd fit into the caretaker role quite so quickly, quite so seamlessly, no pause or misstep, as he did.

He loves what he does, and, in moments where he misses Jellybean and Betty and Archie so terribly he aches, likes to think it loves him back. On the professional front, at least.

A motor engine, smooth and purring and gruff, ripples along this veil of peace. It's sounding angry, too, judging by the screech, the snap, the almost crushing grip on those handles. Jughead sighs. Oh, Pea. No.

It's the same road, different shoes. Everytime.

He wishes he could deny this boy, - could refuse him, could look his desires in the eye and slap them with a scalding smirk. Could for once yell, or turn his back instead of laying on it.

But one look, and he falls apart.

Sweet Pea looks like he always does, after visiting Josie. Hurt. Embarrassed. Hope turned to dust, crushed and spat in his eyes. And angry and vulnerable and raw in a way that's uncomfortable to look at, but Jughead learned to deal.

He goes for a little wave, the baby in his arms drooling a river on his shoulder delivered back safely to his mother, a sweet eyed serpentine with a map of stories on her face. " You okay, Juggie?"

Well, I love a boy who likes someone else who doesn't like him back. So no, not really. " Course. But I don't think you'll be. I showed them finger painting today."

With a groan and a hair ruffle, she leaves, leaving Jughead, Sweet Pea, and the pretty pink fence separating them alone. There's a crooked smile, just an offering of it. Sweet Pea is either too upset to return it, or doesn't care enough to.

Jughead smiles, shy of teasing, ready enough to prepare the keys to his trailer as they walk, but the temptation is too high, too close, tastes too much like Sweet Pea to turn it away.

" You have flour on your nose, " and he dusts it away,tippy toes cramping. He has to climb on muddy boots to reach, and even then his bones pop.

He how elegant, almost Bambi like eyelashes flutter and Sweet Pea's cheeks lose the tight edge before hopping back down. " Another culinary experiement night, or do we need an intervention?"

" Don't even joke." An arm around his waist. A platonic gesture, surely, because Jughead is the only person in this park Sweet Pea is actually careful with handling.

Like Jughead is something delicate and breakable and too holy to harm. It should infuriate him, and it does, on most days. Jughead's a survivor and he has the wounds to prove it. But it excites him too much to stop.

" I just want... Can we - not talk, I can't talk. Not right now. Not after she, - it's so stupid, just. I need, -"

" To blow off some steam," Jug nods, a stab of longing laced with hurt imploding into him, setting fire to his nerves, smoking the flesh of his cheeks bright red. " Well, what are friends for, right?"

"...Right."

His trailer, his own, his own only, - his dad refused to be babysat any longer, and promised Jughead, meaning it this time, that nothing will occur. Warning him a deal needs both hands.

Well. He technically did not break the no boyfriend over rule.

It's strange; For all that rage pumping, Sweet Pea is so careful, taking his jeans off, fingers gentle and tender and hungry on Jughead's sides, worshipful on his waist like lips on a cross.

He's in a comfy lap, back to chest, because they don't look at eachother. Never. Jughead is too afraid to ask why, decidedly too sad just because he can't look at Sweet Pea when they're like this.

But he doesn't want to ask; Benefits are not symmetrical in this dynamic they picked. They rarely are.

" You keep those?"

Jughead's mouth is full of spit, full of moans, choked by Sweet Pea's name, hot and spicy and honey fire on his tongue, so he can't answer immediately.

It's hard to focus while rocking and bouncing and doing the most to fish for a gasp or name slip from the man below you; Jughead can't feel good if Sweet Pea doesn't feel good.

" Wh-what?"

Is this too tender, a hand behind a damp head, fist full of hair but no tugging, no harshness, just simply holding? Is it too obvious, too much like a split wound?

" Those notes, - those goddam sticky notes. You keep those?" A groan. Yay! " Oh baby that's so good, - " baby baby baby baby. Do you call her that, too? " You hips are a danger to society.''

Kisses on his neck, melting his mind harder than any thrust could, no matter how magical, or how spot on it was, - and oh, God, it was. " I thought you didn't want to talk. "

Those are his sticky notes and his secret admirer that, as of recent discovery, was sworn is not Toni, and she's not playing a very mean prank on him. ' I can't commit to a hair color. Why would I comit to a months long prank? '

Plus, Toni possessed a remarkable talent at being a disaster in the kitchen, and those sweet treats found on his doorstep, carefully wrapped in dainty handkerchiefs to avoid staining the papers on top, were sent from heaven, clearly.

It was sweet; the message, the intention, the courtship. Mean spirited or old school wooing, it made Jughead smile at night. So yes, he displayes them on his fridge. " They're adorable."

Sweet Pea scoffs, pushing Jughead head down on the pillows, planning to make his hand filthy with creamy, smooth spent running down Jughead's cock. " They're stupid. And you're drooling again.''

" It - it feels good, it feels good, help, -"

" Shh, shh, " Sweet Pea knows he loves kissing; It makes him giggdy, fills his tummy with sunshine and overwhelmes his body with a vengeful passion. Sweet Pea may not love him, but he sure kisses like he does.

" You're okay, " whispered in a kiss hot enough to smoke the sun, lust and sweet blending in liquid pleasure between them. " You're okay. You're so good, you're the best, sweetheart, the best."

It's so long and never long enough.

Silence feels like ice, after. Jughead's panting, Sweet Pea's, both coming together as noise filler as there's nothing left to say. He wishes he could take Sweet Pea by the hand.

Stay in bed until they're gross, and shower together, and show his darling serpent all the drawings his babies made, and talk about nothing and everything.

But that's not what they do.

That's what they do when they're friends, - when Sweet Pea doesn't run back to Josie, only to have a repeat of this event, that pours tragedy like rain on Jughead's soul.

"... Thanks."

" No problem. "

" I'll... See you.''

" My kids asked for more coconut cookies," he calls out from the bathroom, towel wiping away sweat and other prints of desire. " Think you can wing it?"

" Sure, let me know when. I'll... Go. Thank you, Jughead. Really."

And Jughead nods. He nods even after Sweet Pea leaves his home that doesn't feel like home anymore. It never does, when he's not around, but it'll settle.

Ice cream will heal.

Sugar over tears. Boys are the fucking worst, and Toni agrees, over the phone, when he calls to cry, straight out of a chick flick movie they all secretly love to bits.

He weeps, and he's honest, " I just want things to be nice for him," but if he could not suffer, that would be great.

It's a spiral, a dance he knows the steps of. He made it. He wonders if Sweet Pea has a routine too. It'd be interesting, to have a mirror you like looking at.

Morning comes.

Sweet treats and notes await Jughead, smiling to his door. They're pretty peachy, matching his pajama sweater, always a different color, but something to match.

'Try not to get into too much trouble. Do raise some hell if you can. You look pretty doing it. I love that about you. That you're so kind but so strong and you don't take shit from anyone. Even if you're way too soft.

Maybe that's not such a bad thing to be.

Don't eat all at once!

- N. M. '

He giggles; He does.

He giggles as he writes back, muttering all kinds of things, this is so stupid, so stupid, grin only getting wider, warmer. Gingerly placed in the now empty basket, right before he leaves for work.

' Beloved N. M,

I have, indeed, devoured these all at once. Don't make them so delicious. That was an editing error! The treats should always be delicious and you can always trust me with them. To eat them all.

PS: I know you can't understand my handwriting. Or struggling to. It's a guilty pleasure.

PPS: Can I have a name next time? I can look pretty when I'm begging, too.

- Love, J. Jones. '

[nolanhollogay]

if they were canon + eden! (sometime i am evil :) )

no ur not evil

- who the fandom ships them with

probably reggie so she doesn't mess up the "core four" or sweet pea bcuz "bad boy"

- why the fandom loves them

#girlboss

jk bcuz she's very sure of herself and confident and even tho they don't like that in ronnie they love it in betty and cheryl and she's a white girl so... and she'd probably have a lot of wlw fans 🥺

- why the fandom hates them

she's very confident about her sexual desires and they seem to hate when women do that for some reason??? and bcuz she's mean to their precious betty and jughead

- what the cast relationship would be like

sydney is a SWEETHEART oh they'd all get along so well

- what was their audition scene

you won't know what I'm talking about but either the scene where she stands up to her father before she runs away or her love confession to veronica

- who they'd be with on a press tour

cami or cole! or both maybe

- if they spoil things

i don't think so no

- are they happy with their characters ending/the ending at large

no spoilers but for s1 so far yes!

[bugheadfangirl]

(Thank you so much for the prompt! I absolutely love it and am honored to write it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. )

"You did such an amazing job, babe." Jughead whispers placing a soft kiss on Betty's forehead. Her lips turn upward into a small tired smile as she gazes lovingly in his blue eyes.

"I would have never been able to do it without you." Betty's smile grows before Jughead's lips meet hers. Their lips move slowly, gently as if one harsh movement would shatter them both. They get lost in the kiss, a sweet haven full of love and affection. The chaos that went down moments before vanish away leaving only this perfect moment.

All too soon the nurse's soft voice pulls them back into reality. "Congratulations on your healthy twin baby girls. What would you like to name them?" They pull away from the kiss as a soft pink bundle is placed gently on Betty's chest. "Dad, would you like the hold the other one?" The nurse offers before handing Jughead the other bundle.

Betty glances down to see the soft face and bright blue eyes of her baby girl. The small nose and pale pink lips brings tears to her emerald green eyes. "Juggy, she's perfect. She has your eyes." Betty gently runs her thumb down her daughter's cheek. "I want to name her Juliet. What do you think?" Betty looks over to Jughead who has the brightest smile on his face.

"I love it." His eyes gleam with happiness. "What about Rosaline for this little one?" Jughead looks down at the identical baby in his arms. The baby opens her mouth and smiles revealing her gums to him. "She likes it!" He laughs before gently placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Continuing the theme of Romeo and Juliet are we?" Betty giggles. "Oh, and that's not because she likes it. Babies up until two months smile as a reaction to gas. Maybe you should do your research next time." She teases before nodding her head. "I love it. Welcome to the world Juliet and Rosaline." And with that said, Jughead bends his head down and connects his lips with Betty's.

Two days pass before they are allowed to leave to hospital with their newly born twins. They open the front door of their house as their family and friends pop out of their hiding spots and yell "surprise".

A little yelp escapes Betty's lips as she holds her free hand on her chest. "What is this?" She gasps setting the carseat holding Juliet down onto the nearest chair. She quickly unbuckles the straps and lifts her baby into her arms.

"It's obviously the best surprise party ever. I mean it was planned and decorated by moi." Cheryl appears and gestures to herself.

"Hey! I helped too! Just because you insisted on doing everything doesn't mean I didn't help." Veronica adds cutting into the conversation. Then she notices the baby lying asleep in Betty's arms. "B, she's adorable." Veronica gasps getting closer. "Did you guys decide on a name for them? Where's the other one?" She asks before looking around the room.

Betty nods running her hand through Juliet's soft blonde tuff of hair. "This is Juliet and Jughead has Rosaline. He wanted to keep the Romeo and Juliet theme. But if you ask me, he chose a good name for her." She glances behind her to see Jughead holding Rosaline while talking to Archie.

"Who do we have here?" Archie coos at Rosaline. She stares back with her blue eyes unsure of what to make of the stranger staring down at her. Suddenly, deciding he's a threat, she bursts into tears.

Jughead, trying to hide his panic, starts rocking her up and down. "It's okay Juliet. It'll be okay. Archie is a friend. Yeah, he's a friend." Instead of quieting down, Rosaline screams at the top of her lungs.

"Did he..." Betty stops and stares in shock at Jughead. "Did he just call Rosaline... Juliet?" She shakes her head before walking toward them. "What did you just call her?" She questions hoping her ears have deceived her.

Jughead gives her a weird look in response. "I called her Juliet. That's her name." He responds tilting his head. "Why?"

Betty shakes her head slowly laughing to herself. "You seriously got our babies names mixed up? You're never living this down. Here, hand me Rosaline, take Juliet." She instructs.

"They look exactly the same, of course I'm going to mix them up." Jughead defends as they carefully trade off. "I bet you everyone will."

An evil smirk appears spreads on Betty's face as she slowly starts rocking Rosaline. "Okay, introduce everyone to Juliet while I'm gone. After I get her settled down I'll introduce Rosaline. We'll see if everyone else has your issue. " She gives him a small peck on the check before leaving the room.

"Who's the stupid one now?" Archie playfully teases resulting in a glare from Jughead.

"Like you can do any better." He glares as Juliet wakes from her slumber. "I have to go introduce everyone else to Juliet."

Just as Jughead is about to walk away, Veronica gently takes Juliet away from him. "Look how cute she is, Archie! Isn't Juliet the cutest thing." She coos. "I want a baby!" She grabs Archie's hand. "Please." She begs.

"I'll go get myself a drink, let you two talk about this alone." Jughead awkwardly slides past them and to the table with all the drinks.

A few minutes pass by when Cheryl appears with one of the twins. "Who picked out these clothes? They're so plain. You guys need my help for everything. Good think I have a sense of style to save them. Isn't that right Juliet?" Cheryl smiles at her.

"That's Rosaline! Ha! See Betty! They didn't know the difference either!" Jughead calls out to Betty as she walks toward them baby free.

"Jug, no. She's right, that's Juliet. Why is it that you can't tell them apart?" Betty laughs leaning her head against Jughead's shoulder.

He rubs her back and her eyes slowly close. "You're tired. Go get some sleep. Our friends can take care of them for awhile. You need sleep." Jughead whispers before taking her hand and pulling her into their bedroom.

Betty sprawls onto the bed and passes out immediately. Jughead laughs pulling her body close to his. "I love you so much Betty Jones," he whispers into her ear as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "And I love our baby girls. Their beautiful, but not as much as their mom." He gently kisses her neck before falling asleep with Betty in his arms.

♡♡♡

Betty's eyes slowly open, the light they left on pieces her vision. She groans shutting her eyes tightly to block out the light. Pain pulses through her body from the birth causing her to groan louder. Just then she realizes, her babies. "Jug," she shakes her sleeping husband besides her. "Jug!" She yells louder hoping to wake him up.

"What's wrong?" Jughead's ruff tired voice asks as he lifts himself up in a sitting position. He runs his eyes before glancing over at Betty. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Juliet! I didn't feed her before I fell asleep. She's probably starving. Go get her for me." Betty pleads.

Jughead looks at her a long time trying to process her request. "Why can't you go get her? Why did you have to wake me up?" He tries to pull her closer but she flinches at his touch. "What's wrong?" Concern suddenly taking over him.

"I don't... my body hurts," Betty whines slumping her body over his. "Plus I want to see who you bring me." She teases playfully before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Bring me some naproxen they prescribed me for the pain." She whispers before gently getting off him and laying back down on the soft mattress.

He shakes his head, "Only for you, Betty Cooper. Or should I say Betty Jones." He smiles before lifting himself off the bed. He makes his way out the door and into the rest of the party.

Minutes pass in agony before Jughead returns with a bottle and Rosaline in his arms. "Jokes on you, I got the right baby this time." He smiles proudly at himself.

Betty glances up at them and slowly blinks her eyes before laughing hysterically. "Seriously? You... you brought Rosaline. Why is it seriously so hard for you to get them right." She smiles before motioning him to her. "She might need to be fed anyways. It's been a while. Also give me that bottle." She instructs as Kevin bursts through the doors.

"Jughead was bragging how he got Juliet right this time as he was making his way here. I figured you wanted Juliet so I followed him here." Kevin explains before handing Juliet to Betty.

Betty nods smirking. "Thanks Kev," she says before directing her attention to Jughead. "Yeah, everyone will mix them up. " She throws his words back at him sarcastically as Kevin leaves the room.

She takes her pain medication before feeding the twins. Afterwards, she hands one of them to Jughead and they make their way back to the party.

"We're gonna play a little party game!" Betty announces taking Jughead by surprise. "As we all know the difference between Rosaline and Juliet, our entertainment will be through my husband and the father of the twins, Jughead. He doesn't know the difference and it's been two days."

Jughead takes her hand and whispers in her ear. "Can we not? This is embarassing." He looks around the room as all eyes are on him. Laughter flutters through the room causing Jughead's heart to beat faster, his jaw and body tightens. He pushes the desire to run and hide away deep inside of him.

"It'll be okay. You'll see." She smiles and places a kiss on his cheek before continuing. "So, we will hand the babies around and give them to Jug and he will decide who he has. Let's see how long it takes him until he gets it right." She explains before turning to Jughead. "Who do you think you have right now?"

Jughead examines Juliet closely trying to figure out a significant detail that separates them. He glances to Rosaline in Betty's arms. "Rosaline?" He guessing causing the guests to laugh.

"No Jug. That's Juliet. Okay someone take Juliet and pass her around." Betty laughs handing Rosaline to Cheryl.

"Betty," He whispers in her ear sending chills down her body. "Why are you doing this?" He slides his arms around her waist gently pulling her towards him.

She gently places a kiss under his ear. "Let yourself go. Have fun. Plus this is a good exercise for you. Once you get it right you'll understand the difference."

The game continues in multiple rounds each ending with Jughead failing. Finally, when Betty hands him Rosaline, he gets it right. The room engulfs in cheers as the biggest smile spreads across Betty's face. "See, I told you you can do it."

Jughead pulls her towards him and kisses her lips. "I love you Betty." He says in between kisses. Rosaline makes a noise causing Jughead to break away. "And I love you Rosaline. I love our little, perfect family."

[celinecooperjones]

Falice + laundry. Nobody knows about them sneaking around, but then somehow there's a laundry mishap (maybe Betty and/or Jughead finds something that doesn't belong)

(Posted on Wattpad and Ao3 as well! celine_cooperjones.)

Sneaking around proves much more difficult once summer is over.

In the summer the kids would be gone for hours at a time, leaving them with lots of alone time. Summer was also a time where the kids would go on road trips and have sleepovers with their firmed, again leaving them with lots of alone and a few sleepovers of their own kind.

But since school started back up its harder and harder to find the time to see one another. Sneaky lunch breaks and a short amount of time while the kids have afterschool activities seem to be the only time they can truly be alone. Though, when they’re really missing each other, she sneaks him into her bedroom late at night so they can just be together.

And even though it’s harder to find time to spend with each other, they’ve done a good job so far. Or so they thought.

“I could sleep right now.” Alice murmurs, curling into him.

He laughs. “Did I exhaust you?” She nods against his chest and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Well as much as I’d like to have a nap with you the kids will be home soon.”

She sighs and pecks a kiss to his lips. “Fine.”

She slips her discarded dress back on and he watches as her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What’s wrong?” He questions.

“I can’t find my panties.” Her cheeks flush and he smiles.

“Where’d you lose them?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who took them off, you tell me!” She places her hands on her hips and glares at him as he laughs. “I’m serious Forsythe, I go home without my underwear.”

“I mean you can,” he climbs out of bed and slips on his boxers. “And I think it would be pretty hot you going pantyless.” He presses a kiss to her neck and she sighs, oh the power he has over her and her body.

“You better find them.“ 

"I will,” He continues pressing kisses up her neck and lands one on her lips. “I promise, babe.”

“Fine. But let me know as soon as you do.”

_____

He does find them, he promised her he would, he found them in the corner of the room. He had thrown them over his shoulder after taking them off of and neither he nor Alice paid much attention to where they landed.

I found your panties. He messages her. He doesn’t get a response though. He figures he’ll throw the garment in with his clothes as he does laundry, so he gathers up his clothes and her panties and heads to the laundry room.

_____

Betty’s phone lights up and she smiles as she sees Jughead’s name appear on the screen. “Hey, Juggie.”

“Hey, Betts. I think you left something here.” She can practically hear the smile in his voice.

“I did? What did I leave?”

“Your underwear?”

She laughs loudly. “What? Jug, I didn’t leave my underwear there.”

“Well there’s a pair in here that don’t belong to me or my dad so they’ve gotta be yours.”

“I don’t think they’re mine but I guess I could be wrong. What do they look like?”

“Red, lacy, tiny.”

“Jug, I don’t own anything that looks like that.”

“You don’t? Then who’s are they?”

“I have no idea and I don’t think I want to know.”

_____

“Okay, where are my boxers? Did you hide them or something?” FP questions, searching around her bedroom for them.

“Why would I hide your boxers?”

“Because I lost your panties? I don’t know!”

“FP I wouldn’t hide your boxers, you took them off last night so they’ve gotta be in here somewhere.” She helps him look for them but neither can find them.

“Alright, well guess I’m going commando under my jeans.”

She smirks at that. “That’s kinda hot though.”

He smiles and pulls on his jeans, leaning over to kiss her before making his great escape.

_____

“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to go borrow mom’s lipstick.” Betty heads upstairs and into her mom’s room to look for the desired lipstick.

Instead she finds a pair of boxers on her mom’s dresser that she knows does not belong to her father. After he went to jail Alice gave away or burnt all of his clothing and possessions.

Then it starts to add up. The underwear in the trailer, the boxers in her mom’s room, their parents are sneaking around together.

“Jug!” Betty frantically calls as she runs downstairs.

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me these are yours.” She holds the boxers up.

“Those aren’t mine, I don’t wear that kind.”

“Oh God. Jug, I have a bad feeling.”

“What do you-”

The front door opens and Alice and FP come tumbling in. Both kids stand in utter shock and horror as FP kisses Alice. “What the hell!”

The adults turn to them quickly. “Kids! I thought you were going out?”

“Oh hey, there’s my boxers!” FP says, immediately regretting it and earning an elbow in his side from Alice.

Well, mystery solved.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Hi there. Could you write a fic where Jug has asthma and its flaring up but when he goes to use his inhaler he realizes its gone but he doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to inconveniance Fred or Archie. Set during the time he was living with the Andrews. Then Archie finally realizes when Jug passes out or something like that and he ends up in the hospital. Thank you thank you thank you so much.

(It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been into riverdale, but let’s give this ago! S1 bc prompt says so and also bc s2 is a mess lmao..)

Jughead’s asthma was never something he ever had to think about until recently. He had one big episode when he was a child, but after that, he’d just carry around an inhaler and he’d be fine. It made PE a pain sometimes, but Jughead was just unathletic anyway, and it gave him an excuse to sit out of track. Asthma made his illnesses worse than they should be, but aside from that, it was never an issue.

It became an issue when Jughead lost his home and had no means of going to the hospital to get refills, and he couldn’t even get the over the counter ones that didn’t work as well for him because he didn’t have any money. Any money he did have, he used on feeding himself.

Being homeless made everything that Jughead never thought twice about so much harder than they really were. Being homeless made him live day by day, constantly on edge, and each second that went by intensified his craving for stability once again. But Jughead didn’t have a home to go back to, because as horrible and miserable being homeless was, it was better than going to a house that made him feel like he unsafe and unwanted.

And he doesn’t know how it happened, but the light of the Andrews family decided to shine upon him one fateful day and they decided to give him back the stability he lost many months ago. They gave him a bed, a roof, food and warmth, basic human necessities he had been deprived of for quite a while. Jughead was so grateful for what they had given to him, he couldn’t have asked for.

Even refills for his inhaler.

Initially Jughead didn’t think he needed refills. In his 5 months of homelessness, he’d only needed to refill once. Sure he had to make sacrifices and it had been difficult, but he was sure he could do it. Anyway, he couldn’t have possibly asked the Andrews for more. It just couldn’t be right when they’ve given him so much.

Jughead had been fine for the first month he had been living with them, but when a flu hit Riverdale high, everything came crashing down.

He wasn’t surprised when the plague hit him, it was expected after all, with a less than brilliant immune system.

Jughead had woken up a Friday morning feeling like an entire rockslide worth of rocks had pinned him down onto the air mattress, weighing him down and making him feel heavy. His head was the same, a hefty weight that he found it difficult to lift his head from the pillow. And when he did he was greeted by his world tipping over and by a wave of nausea, a rush flooding his body as he hissed in pain.

Jughead tilted his head back onto Archie’s bed and gritted his teeth to brace the pain, then proceeding to aggressively rub at his temples to dry and subside the dull ache hidden deep within his head, unreachable. He was glad that Archie had already gone down stairs, because no way would he have liked the idea of his best friend seeing him like this.

Jughead forced himself upright, despite his world that seemed to pirouette he forced himself to get changed. Cold waves rushed up and down his body causing him to tremor and shake, his hands shaking as he caused the hanger to rattle against the material of the closet. Just as Jughead struggled to get his jacket on, his eyes were involuntarily fluttering shut and he whipped his head to the side, sneezing two relatively small, albeit ticklish sneezes.

Despite the minimal power displayed, the sneezing seemed to have leeched him off all energy for suddenly he felt very lightheaded, and he could feel the sickening sensation of freefalling, but thankfully he had grasped onto Archie’s desk to stay upright. He rubbed  irritably at what he was sure was a reddened nose, which felt awfully rough, uncomfortable with the hot air he exhaled.

His chest felt incredibly tight too. Jughead wasn’t taking in enough oxygen as he would’ve liked, because his lungs physically could not take in anymore at a given time. It made him feel dizzy and weak, and very faint. As Jughead breathed out; with difficulty due to his blocked nose, and when he did out came a whistling noise.

“Fuck,” Jughead cursed under his breath, knowing full well what the issue was. But he was determined to keep it as quiet as he possibly could.

Even the smallest utterance caused Jughead to fall into a brief coughing fit, a fit awfully chesty and causing a whistling noise to erupt from him. Each cough seemed to explode within his chest, causing a hand to shoot up and support his chest to try and ease the pain. He groaned as he finished, sniffling and wiping any irritated tears before heading downstairs.

“Oh my god, dad! It’s 8:00 and I forgot to wake Jughead!” Archie exclaimed worriedly.

“Oh damn it Arch! I completely lost track of time, go get him–”

“I’m here, I’m here, we’re all good,” Jughead interjected, cringing the sound of his raspy, rough voice. His voice was husky and low, on the verge of disappearing all together.

Archie widened his eyes, “Woah, you don’t sound great.”

Jughead tried to mask his panic with a charming grin. “You don’t find my morning voice sexy? Now that’s a shame,” He quipped.

Fred chuckled at that, “Sorry we didn’t wake you earlier Jug–I swear my watch is 20 minutes behind. Look, you should maybe try and get some breakfast..”

Jughead shook his head, the sound of food at all very unappetising and making him feel sick, “No no, it’s fine. We’ll be late.”

Archie’s eyes widened in shock, “Are you rejecting food?”

Jughead scoffed, heading over to the fruit bowl to try and keep up the charade , “Food is very important to me, Archibald, but so is education. I’ll take an apple.”

Fred frowned at this too, his eyes meeting Archie’s with worry for a second, “You sure you’re okay champ?”

Jughead offered him a smile,feeling a little woozy from the sudden hot waves that surged throughout his body, trying to tame his shakiness.  "Of course. Besides, I think the Chinese we had last night has fed me for over a decade.“

Fred smiled softly, worry still laced in his features, “Alright champ, but if there’s anything you need to tell us please do. We’ll get Pops later tonight to make it up to you.”

“Sounds great Mr A!” Jughead said as he rushed out the door, stifling a series of coughs into his jacket sleeve.

“Wait, hang on Jug, wait for me!” Archie protested frantically, yanking his coat on. Just as he was about to chase his scarily enthusiastic friend, he spared a worried glance over at his father, who returned it to him. It left a nervous feeling that something was off.

Maybe his fever has escalated about a million degrees, or he got hit on the head by a meteor that he didn’t notice, but Jughead is not functioning correctly. Because had he been in his right mind, he would have made a dumb ass excuse to get out of gym, and not aggravate his already strained lungs and sickened body, but for some reason he pushed through.

Maybe there was a part of him still in denial. Maybe there was a part of him that wanted to live the lie that everything was fine. Maybe there was a part of him too prideful to give in and accept defeat; that he was sick, and his asthma was not helping. Whatever that part of him was, it truly was moronic.

Because Jughead is running (or, his definition of running, which is a brisk walk in comparison to the likes of Chuck Clayton or Archie Andrews) shuttle runs that don’t seem to end. As each foot lands on the ground he seems to land with a thump, accompanied by another throb in his head and another squeeze to his chest. As he runs Jughead struggled to keep his nose from leaking, hand constantly trying to pinch away or rub into his sleeve. He fights a tickle in his nose, although it is not quite intense that it should coax out a sneeze, its dull and constant.

There was a sharp pain within his chest and every time he breathes he felt like it was slowly cutting into him. Jughead felt like he’s on fire, he can’t breathe and he feels so weak and so exhausted he felt like dropping dead and moving on to the next existence. Everything else is a blur and his hearing fades and all he can hear is the ragged, whistle like tonality of his breathing and the rapid thumping of his heart.

Scorching hot waves rushed through one direction of his body and freezing cold waves rush through the other. Jughead didn’t think he could handle one more second of this. He pulled in, with just enough energy to just about collapse onto the sidelines.

Jughead struggled to catch his breath, feeling faint and dizzy as his lungs would not take in more air, his breaths short and ragged. He began to wheeze as his chest contracted with sharp pain, his hand running through his hair in exhaustion as he tried to recompose himself. His hand shot up to his chest in attempt to soothe himself, but to no avail his chest only seemed to close in on itself even more. His entire body shook vigorously, both from a rampaging fever and lightheadedness.

“Mr Jones! Get up!” Coach Clayton yelled angrily from across the pitch.

Josie suddenly stopped her running as her attention averted over to Jughead, worry suddenly replacing any desire to keep running. She squinted her eyes to try and figure out what was wrong with him.

“Coach? It seems like he’s having an asthma attack–or a panic attack, I don’t know,” Josie said quickly.

Coach Clayton widened his eyes, “Oh, um, well in that case, will you go check on him?”

Josie nodded quickly and jogged to the sidelines where Jughead was panting on the floor.

“Jughead? You okay?” Josie asked softly, kneeling down to his height.

Jughead looked up at her with red, bleary eyes but before he could even open his mouth his body was ravaged by an intense coughing fit. The noises he made where awfully resonant from his chest, wheezy and powerful that they doubled him over, causing violent surges of pain as a result.

Josie widened her eyes and patted his back comfortingly. When he finally finished Jughead collapsed against the mesh fence and breathed in and out to try and catch his breath again, chest heaving.  Void of all energy. He couldn’t stop himself from wheezing.

Josie frowned, “I think you should go to the nurse, Jughead.”

Jughead shook his head, “M'fine.”

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief, leaning in to put a hand on his forehead, he was too tired to try and fight her.

“Jesus Jughead! You really need to go to the nurse!”

Jughead groaned and pushed himself off of the floor, shaking his head all the way, “Im fine, Josie. I’m just extremely athletically challenged.”

“But–”

And then came the shrill ringing of the bell.

And in a flash Jughead was gone.

It takes a while for Jughead to accept it, but the sickness has taken complete control of him.

It started with his body, of course, in the physical sense of it. Now it was his brain, and everything was a fuzzy blur and nothing seemed to make sense.

As he huddled over his laptop, he tried his best to make sense of his words but every thing seemed to jumble together in this horribly incomprehensible jigsaw. The words seemed to cross dissolve in and out and Jughead couldn’t see.

His brain stopped functioning and he couldn’t speak English anymore. Each letter he typed in caused his fingers to tremor. Jughead knew the sickness had won.

Sighing he closed up the computer and packed up, trying to push through the fever and make it out of there. His brain didn’t seem to process anything but he at least knew he needed to get home, and he knew for sure that was going to be difficult.

Everything felt trippy. Jughead felt like he was walking through one of those fun houses, everything distorted and not quite right. When he staggered down the hall he felt like the flooring was shaking, like he was on some obstacle course of some kind because his legs wouldn’t stop wobbling and he felt like he was on the verge of collapse.

Jughead thought he heard his phone buzz but all he could think about was how how faint he felt, and how his chest felt like something huge was compressing it, squeezing tighter and tighter. It was like his lungs was the snowballs you kept compressing and squeezing until it turned to ice.

And even though Jughead made a continuous effort to try and steady his breathing, he couldn’t avert his full attention to it because parts of him was concentrated on the pounding pain in his head, like someone repeatedly banging on walls, and other parts where concentrated on the surges of varying temperatures that Jughead couldn’t handle,

And then he started coughing hard, the worst fit he’s ever remembered having. Because each cough is not only a bullet to his lungs, but a bullet to his brain, his vision blackening and he literally cannot breathe, his entire body was shutting down.

It’s like his entire body has gone into panic mode, and he could hear the sirens screeching louder and louder until his brain screams for help. He can see flashes of red and blue and then he loses control.

Jughead fell to his knees and slid across the floor, his hands clutching his head in pain. Jughead whimpered and groaned until he realisedhe can’t breathe, each breath shallow and he felt so faint and so weak he can’t see. Jughead wheezed, suffocating, he felt trapped. It’s was nightmare.

But through all the monsters plaguing him in this wasteland, he heard an angel.

“Jughead? Oh god, Jughead!”

Jughead felt like he was on fire. He felt like he was aimlessly drifting through space with no oxygen, he could feel himself closing down.

Archie dropped to his knees and examined him, “Jughead? What’s wrong?! Are you panicking?! Wait, wait, shit! You can’t breathe! Jug, where’s your inhaler?!”

Jughead tried to shake his head no, as Archie frantically rummaged through Jughead’s bag, in a futile attempt as there was no result.

Suddenly his reckless scavenging came to a halt when he realised what the issue was.

“You don’t have it? Oh fuck, Jughead! Did you run out and not tell us?!” Archie exclaimed, panic dripping out of his voice.

Jughead opened his mouth to apologise, but a hoarse wheeze was all he could manage. He shut his eyes in pain, convulsing as he struggled to breathe.

Archie’s hands shook as he grabbed for his phone, frantically trying to call for Fred. He put the phone against his ear, each ring seeming to last an eternity.

“Dad? Oh my god Dad, you need to get here right now! Jughead needs to go to the hospital! He doesn’t have an inhaler and he’s having an attack! Please hurry!” Archie cried out, and hung up immediately.

He rushed towards Jughead and scooped him up into his arms, placing a cool hand on his forehead.

“Fuck! You’re burning up! Hang on Jug, Dad’s gonna come soon and fix you up. Dammit, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Archie hissed, running his fingers through Jughead’s hair comfortingly, although he was really doing it to comfort himself.

Jughead can’t really remember what happened in the next 10 minutes but all he knows is that Archie held him in his arms and refused to let go, staying right next to him the whole time. Nothing in the world could have persuaded Archie to let him go.

It seemed like an eternity. Even though Jughead could feel himself slipping away and getting weaker by the moment he forced himself to stay awake, hang on, cling on to Archie, fighting for each second. Then, his friend’s eyes suddenly lit up as a bright white light flooded the scene.

“Look, Jughead! It’s dad! You’re going to be just fine..you’re alright, you’re alright,” Archie promised, and it was the last thing Jughead heard before he faded out and he was flooded by a beam of white that swallowed him whole.

It was also a beam of bright white that brought him back.

Then the rapid spinning of a fan, and slowly his senses came back and he could hear the spinning motion of it. He felt a mask over him.

He hadn’t quite completely regained control of his sentences, but he could faintly hear Fred talking to what he assumed was his doctor.

“Yes, yes he’s under my wing for now. Just tell me everything he needs, anything at all, just please fix him up,” Fred nodded.

The doctor chuckled, “He’ll be just fine, Mr Andrews. His asthma is not a problem when he has his inhalers, which I’ve asked the nurse to go get for you which she’ll give to you before he gets discharged, I just wonder why he failed to mention he needed them in the first place.”

Archie scoffed, making his presence towering over him, “Because he’s Jughead, of course. It’s what he does best–worry us because he’s shut himself out for some otherworldly reason.”

Archie looked down on him again, worry flooding his eyes until he realised Jughead had waken.

“Jughead!” He exclaimed.

Fred immediately rushed to his side, followed by the doctor who gently removed his mask. “How are you feeling, champ?”

Jughead opened his mouth to reply but the Doctor quickly shushed him.

“Don’t speak son, you need rest.”

Jughead nodded, and looked over at Archie who seemed to be looking at him with a very fiery glare, like he had been hurt and stomped on, his arms crossed and letting out a frustrated sigh. Jughead raised an eyebrow as to ask him what was going on.

Archie scoffed, looking bewildered, incredulous, “What’s going on Jug? What’s going on?!”

“What’s going on is that less than three hours ago I found you suffocating in the middle of the hallway, on your knees and gasping for air! Less than three hours ago I felt my heart drop and shatter into a million pieces as dread devoured me! Less than three hours ago I was holding you in my arms begging you not to leave me because I was terrified you would and maybe this time, I wouldn’t get you back! All because you didn’t say shit!” Archie hissed bitterly.

Archie aggressively ran his hands across his hair and stomped off into the corner, seething in his anger, breathing ragged.

Fred sighed, placing a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder, “Arch, I know you’re upset, but take it easy on him, okay? He’s exhausted.”

Jughead could feel his heart sinking to the floor, suddenly increasingly aware of the damage he had cause, the damage he didn’t think he would cause, the damage he didn’t think he could cause because how can anybody care for someone like him so much?

Jughead reached out for the notepad and pen on his bedside table desperately. The Doctor noticed and handed it to him. The moment the pad was in his hands he scribbled down furiously onto the page, ripping it out of the pad and waggling it ferociously towards Archie’s direction.

Archie sighed deeply, reluctant to get the page but there was an urgency and pleading to Jughead’s eyes he simply could not say no to. He got up and made it towards him, taking the note from his friend and reading.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. It’s just been a while since I’ve had an actual home and I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

Archie looked up at him, meeting his gaze and he understood. In that moment they connected, that unspeakable bond they had formed since the sandbox that no science could really explain. All had been forgiven, all was clear, and there was no bitterness, only love.

Archie leaned in and took Jughead’s hands in his and smiled, “Then I will dedicate my entire existence to reminding you what it was like.”

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

I agree about toni being a match for Jughead... But it's definitely not the match he wants. I think sorta kissing her back was basically putting the final nail in the coffin of choosing between southside and northside - his arc this episode. He cuts his final tie to the north and by kissing toni, shows he's fallen in with the serpents completely. But again, it's not a choice he wants. He doesn't kiss her passionately, he just reciprocates one. Like he's settling for it.

I did say in my meta-y thing about Toni that I saw the kiss play out as sort of a consolation prize - but at the same time I don’t doubt that there’s a piece of Jughead that *was* interested in exploring this potential with the character that’s been portrayed as ‘Southside Betty’ at every turn.

For a guy that constantly seems to be jonesing (pun not intended) for the stability of a two parent, 2.4 kids, nuclear family household that he’s forever been denied during his formative years, boy is he good at throwing those opportunities away. Betty Cooper, literal Northside darling, bought him that chance, wrapped it up in a neat bow of ‘I love you and will support whatever you need to explore’ and handed it to him. And Jughead dodged her call. If it weren’t for the reshoots then the alt ending to 1x13 would have seen him take this present, but low and behold a renewal is a renewal is a chance for more drama. Remember when Jughead said he was gonna live at the trailer that must’ve been his listed address when he went to Riverdale High, and Betty came up to him actually bathed in the softest light a scene could get and asked ‘can’t you just stay here now?’, why do you have to go to SSH? And Mr. Future Call Dodger replied with ‘I’ll be fine’. That was it, end of conversation - what kinda response is that? He doesn’t say yes I could or no I can’t - I’ll be fine. There’s a pretty conceivable undertone in that that says I’m gonna go explore the Southside because I can.

Jughead’s flaws for the majority consist of his evasiveness and his self-loathing. He *still* after all the times Betty has tried to convince him believes that he is accepting way more than the love he thinks he deserves (to call upon a painfully overused quote). An exploration of the Southside at this point isn’t just a necessity, it’s an intrigue. What if I did join this gang? What if I did make friends who were like me? What if I did consider how I feel about this girl who is a parallel of my current girlfriend, minus all the ties that come with being parted by this invisible town border that serves as a constant reminder that we are different? What would that be like? In a ridiculous way it’s almost as if his flaws are working together to wedge him even further between that rock and that hard place. Evasive even to himself that he’s chosen to explore this path even though in all actuality he doesn’t have to (believe it or not it isn’t his job to fix this crumbing town that in another universe probably rests upon a hell mouth), working with that self loathing that says well hey this is what you get for being who you are - congrats, here’s you consolation prize.

I’m not saying I *want* Toni and Jug to be a thing. If you’ve been around my blog for a while you cannot doubt that I’m all about the Bughead. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t see what they’re doing, I’m picking up what they’re putting down and that is that this is entirely plausible, and also that Jughead does not belong on that pedestal he mistakenly gets put on. And while his love for Betty goes a lot deeper than whatever this kiss was, at his lowest and most vulnerable that desire to explore the place he believes he deserves sprung to the forefront. I’m not saying Bughead are done because I don’t believe that in the slightest, but both their characters are in pretty broken places and it won’t be a smooth ride back to that happy place we left them a few episodes ago.

[bireggiemantle]

please god tell me about the twilight au

okay I have two versions of the twilight au but one of them has a bitchy oc so I'm gonna talk about the one without the oc.

so. jughead is bella. he lived in riverdale when he was really young but following fp and gladys's big nondivorce split, he and jellybean went with gladys to toledo. however, at age 16, he decides to come back and spend some time living with fp in riverdale.

the cullens are less of a "family" in this than they are in the movie, but essentially hiram and hermione are carlisle and esme respectively, toni is alice, jasper doesn't exist because he means nothing to me, veronica is rosalie and reggie is emmett. betty is edward.

archie is jacob, although it's worth mentioning I'm a jarchie longcon truther and a member of team jacob, so archie and jughead are endgame here.

I'll summarize the section of the au that follows the first movie, since it's the most well known movie and I also don't want this post to be six pages long.

like I said before, jughead is new to town and quickly befriends fangs, toni, and sweet pea. just like bella did, jughead has a strange encounter with betty in biology class, when she has to run out because of an overwhelming desire to kill and eat him <3

this causes him to be intrigued with betty and the group she hangs out with (veronica and reggie), although toni warns him to stay away from them.

switching over to archie, he and jughead were childhood best friends, and they quickly pick up where they left off when jughead returns to town, although things between them are a little strained. since I'm not stephanie mormon and I don't want to include an insensitive plot about racism, archie goes to same school as the rest of them, although he lives on the other end of town.

okay. back to betty. jughead is weirdly fascinated by her ever since she ran out of class, and one day when he runs into her in the hallway between periods, he decides to confront her about it.

she freaks out and tells him to back off, but her eyes flash yellow and her teeth look suspiciously pointy while she's threatening him, so jughead, freak that he is, only becomes more intrigued.

he starts trying to find out everything he can about betty, veronica, and reggie, since he's convinced there's something strange going on with them. he starts watching them after school in the parking lot, but he never seems to find them walking outside in broad daylight.

at one point, while distracted from his search for them, jughead is almost hit by a car, but a very fast and very strong figure manages to save him before he can get hurt. it's archie.

at first jughead assumes archie and betty are keeping the same secret, and that they must be the same kind of inhuman creature, but obviously that theory isn't true.

anyway, jughead ends up getting closer to both of them due to this crazed search, and at one point veronica invites him, betty, and reggie over to her house to play a game of baseball because you know I HAD to include that scene here.

unlike bella, I don't think jughead knows that they're vampires at this point. he just assumes they're a bunch of weirdos who like playing baseball in the rain. all that changes when a group of rogue vampires (unsure of who these are yet but wouldn't it be hilarious if it was bret and donna) show up and threaten to kill jughead.

this places a bounty on his head, and betty, veronica, and reggie rush to hide him in the underground fuck bunker.

hes lured away by the rogue vampires before they're able to hide him away, and he's left bitten and alone, waiting for his painful demise. he's able to contact both betty and archie though, who show up at the same to save him.

they end up fighting about what to do before the severity of the situation takes over, and betty manages to save jughead using whatever stupid ass logic allowed edward to suck the vampire venom out of bella's blood.

archie takes him to the hospital afterwards and spends the day there watching him, both because he wants to and because betty can't.

archie and jughead end up getting together and they go to the dance blah blah blah the ending of twilight happens they're in love you know the drill.

[jugandbettsdetectiveagency]

Do you think maybe at this moment in time, Betty loves Jughead more than he loves her? If he was willing to ignore phone calls from her to explore said feelings, I mean, that says a lot. On the other hand, Betty's so assured of their love for her that she doesn't doubt they'll find their way back even if she puts some distance between them.

I’m not really buying into this who loves who more than the other thing.

The call dodging didn’t only come out of a place of Southside exploration, it also came from a desire to try and protect Betty and keep her apart from the opportunity Jughead was taking to utilise his newfound Southside resources, while also distancing himself as he so likes to (frustratingly, repeatedly) do. It just so happened that those resources took the form of Toni, a girl who fits into both Jughead’s ‘type’ and his constant need to remind himself he deserves to be exiled to the wrong side of the tracks.

To address Betty, this girl was literally born out of a need to control - have you met her mother? ‘We will walk it back’ wasn’t an example of Betty loving Jug more than he loves her, it was a testimony to her issues with needing to be able to manipulate every situation favourably. This is Betty’s character flaw. I don’t see it as having anything to do with the actual standing of their relationship, or the healthiness for that matter.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

I don't know wether or not you ship bughead but here's a prompt anyway- how about one where jughead is homeless and on the street and he's really sick and there's a really big storm and the thunder doesn't help his headache and the rain gets him really wet and he ends up at Betty's window and she takes care of him. You're writing is amazing so I thought I would drop you and idea!

(Hey honey! Im sorry but I personally don’t ship these two, it’s just not for me but I do adore their dynamic in a friendship kind of way so I still wanted to write this bc I like this a lot!! Hope that’s ok with you!! While this is written to be strictly platonic I guess you could read this through ship goggles if you want tho!)

What exactly is a home?

Jughead thinks about this over and over again, hoping that maybe eventually he’ll find the answer, but the question only becomes more frustrating and probes him so much that it’s like it’s stabbing him repeatedly.

He is a Type 5 on the enneagram, he is an investigator, he needs to push the limits of understanding. Jughead craves answers and knowledge, he is fuelled by the desire to understand the world he is born to, to gain knowledge on the nature of his kind.

Jughead is plagued by this question, it stings him because he doesn’t know the answer. In the most human way possible, he cannot understand what he’s never known. Will he ever get the answer? Or is he just doomed and destined to never have a home, always a loner on the sidetracks, watching the world go by, seeing a lot but never experiencing?

Jughead had built a wall so thick around himself that he doesn’t understand his own feelings; is he genuinely this sad about life or is this just the fever that plagues his body? There is a sadness that looms over him as the cold rain splatters on his skin, soaking his skin and dampening his bones.

The rain pours harder, raining down on him hard and harsh like a waterfall, causing him to sprint towards the closest tree. He feels so miserable he doesn’t even know if the droplets on his face are his own tears or the rain. Maybe a mixture of both.

He cowers under the tree, the little bit of shelter the tree does provide a much needed change. The rain still leaks through, a lighter sprinkling of rain still hitting his bitterly cold, pale skin. He’s so cold he’s numb, goosebumps and snow white skin. He shivers and trembles violently, sniffling wetly as he rubs at his nose weakly.

It’s just his luck this is happening to him. Perhaps this was just the satirical, darkly comedic plot of his life. He often wondered if perhaps all of Earth was merely an entertainment show like some weird Truman Show type and his particular life story was created for those sadistic types who liked watching people be sad.

Sleeping on park benches was bound to get him sick. He knew it was coming, besides, even if he did have a roof to live under he would still be sick anyway because that’s the way his cruel body worked.

Being sick and homeless and having to sleep on a park bench was horrible enough, in his opinion, but of course, of course, that wasn’t enough. Of course it had to pour lashing rain.

A drop of water fell down one of the tree leaves, delicately dropping on Jughead’s already sensitive nose. His nose twitched, and suddenly his breath was hitching and he was inhaling sharply to pitch forward with an explosive, congested sneeze. He groaned, thinking he was done when a piece of his hair fell onto his nose and tickled it further, causing him to explode with two more harsh, wet sneezes. He doesn’t even care about how loud he is, he’s sick and miserable, he shouldn’t have to restrain his powerful sneezes. The universe owes him that at the very least.

Jughead pushed the hair away from his nose frustratedly, scrunching his nose to get rid of the irritating tickle. He rubs at his reddened nose, cringing as he feels a little bit of wetness in it, but hey, nobody can see how disgusting he is now. He groans, and lets out a chorus of congested little coughs that stab at his chest.

He slides down against the tree miserably, sniffling wetly as he wipes his runny nose on his soaked sleeve. He shakes violently, teeth chattering and hugging himself (wow, is that how pathetic he’s gotten?). Despite how cold he’s feeling, there’s a little bit of warmth radiating off him from a sure fever that he’s had the whole day. He feels woozy and definitely very off, very feverish and generally unwell. He just wants this night to end.

Jughead is thinking about all the happy (or seemingly happy) little families of Riverdale all bundled up in their blankets and nice heaters to brave this storm. He hopes that fantasising about it would make him feel a little warmer. After another obnoxiously loud sneeze, he’s accepted that he’s doomed to a night of the freezing cold and rain when a flash of lightning blinds him, then he hears the thunder loudly rumbling shortly after.

The sound explodes in his ears, chilling him even further than he is so he turns to ice. The lightning that flashes in front of him blinds him, leaving him petrified and paralysed, terrified.

His breathing starts to pick up, his blood running cold as his chest suddenly becomes heavy, and it’s not from his cough. He’s being suffocated, as anxiety rushes throughout his body and shutting him down as his breathing is shallow and barely enough oxygen is being supplied in his system. He feels faint.

One of the many consequences of being homeless is that Jughead is off his anxiety meds; and going through his day to day is hard enough, but something like a loud storm offsetting his anxiety? It’s cruel.

Jughead knows he can’t stay here, but there is literally nowhere to go. The strike of light flashes in his eyes and jars him,  he feels faint and weak. The thunder is growling again and the explosion of sound rattles his brain and intensifies his headache. The pain is enough for him to leave the sanctuary that is his tree and he’s sprinting. Running as fast as his sick body can, letting his feet take him wherever they’re planning.

Running burns at his chest, because Jughead can barely breathe because he’s sick and anxious and he’s also incredibly unfit. He skips gym for a reason. As he runs he coughs harshly, spluttering as he runs his heart out.

Then suddenly he’s coming to a halt, as his foot miscalculates a step and lunges out too far, and he’s slipping on the slippery pavement, out of the somewhat firm grass. He slips across the road, managing to save his chin with his arms. He’s scraped, and a short sensation of pain rushes through him.

Exhausted, he is face down against the road. He’s too sick and too tired, his chest heavy from anxiety, but he can’t just sleep on the road like this. The thunder and lightning wake him up again, as well as intensify his headache.

Jughead lifts his head up, and sees two familiar houses that leave him feeling just a tad warmer.

By instinct his gaze shifts over to Archie’s house, he thinks about his best friend who he has just rekindled with, and the kindness of Fred Andrews. But then he remembers why they were split apart in the first place, Grundy, and how Archie does not need another problem right now. Archie needs time to heal.

Then his gaze pans over to the sweet, American Dream of a house. The Cooper household.

It’s not the same kind of warmth he thinks of when he sees Archie’s house, but it still warmth, and it’s just as good. And Jughead is so cold, and he needs it.

Jughead coughs, picking himself off the ground and approaching the household. He doesn’t even know what time it is, and if Betty is still awake, but his heart cannot take this storm.

He staggers and stumbles over to the Cooper house, his body racked by his violent shivering. His legs shake, barely supporting himself and he needs to take his time. He sniffles, running a finger under his nose and shuffles through the damp, glistening grass. Jughead spots a ladder just sitting outside, next to a bunch of hardware tools. He speculates it’s just Hal Cooper fixing up the house.

A thought crosses his mind and Jughead is against it, it’s awfully cliche and disgustingly Nicholas Sparks-esque and not him, he’s not into that, but there is literally no other way. He gets a grip on the ladder and carefully uproots it, and balances it on the window he knows by heart is Betty Cooper’s. He’s spent most of his life in Archie Andrews’ bedroom, he knows who the window across from his belongs to.

Once he thinks the ladder is steady, Jughead stifles a forceful cough into his sodden sleeve, it scrapes against his throats and burns. He escalates the ladder slowly, the ladder eerily shaking slightly as his body trembles from the cold, and as he is almost to the top his nose tickles, of course. Jughead is bad at stifling, and always needs his hands to do it, but his hands are firmly balancing himself on the ladder and if he lets go to stifle, he’ll fall down and cause a commotion. But if he sneezes freely, the loud sound would also cause a commotion.

Jughead can’t think of what to do because his body is bracing itself to sneeze and somehow he managed a harsh stifle that sounds so painful, and most definitely is painful. It scrapes against his throat horridly and leaves a dull ache in his sinuses. Someone stirs within the household, and Jughead freezes.

Betty Cooper makes her presence known by checking her window, and when she looks out she widens her eyes at the sight. Jughead manages a weak, sheepish but charming smile at her. He can faintly hear her soft gasp as she yanks the window open, and offers him a hand and helps him into her bedroom.

She doesn’t know where to start, whisper screaming, “Jughead?! You’re soaked!”

He smirks, “I figured you would appreciate me putting aside my pretentiousness and give it up for a more cliché, romantic Romeo type exterior.”

Betty rolls her eyes playfully, “Yuck, I don’t want a Romeo like you. I’d prefer someone who wasn’t quite a wreck, thank you very much.”

Jughead laughs a little at that, knowing full well romance wasn’t for him. It never was, and he wasn’t quite sure if it ever will. It was a funny joke though, in an ironic kind of sense.

Jughead shivers intensely, wrapping soaked arms around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm and Betty frowns.

She places a hand on Jughead’s forehead, he’s too weak to protest like he usually would, and her frown is worsened, “You’re burning up! What are you doing in the rain like this, you idiot?”

Jughead stifles a series of congested coughs into his shoulder, and looks up at her blearily and whispers, “I promise I just need to stay here while it rains, just for tonight, I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.”

Betty looks at him with a look he can’t quite decipher–a weird mix of sympathy, confusion, heartbreak and understanding. One thing Jughead loves about her is that unlike Archie, bless him, she is less naive and is better at reading in between the lines, and doesn’t blurt out things by accident that doesn’t help. Because Betty doesn’t question him, she doesn’t say anything.

She opens her drawers and pulls out an oversized t shirt she had gotten at a camp and a big sweatshirt she got at some volunteering event, and a pair of bigger sweatpants that she wears when it’s cold. She hopes it will fit him, and passes them over to him.

“I’m going to get you some tea and medicine, get changed into these while I’m  gone, you’re soaked to the bone,” She fussed worriedly, her voice low and whispery.

Jughead shakes his head violently, “No no no, you don’t have to..your parents..”

Betty lets out a fond chuckle, “Jughead, trust me, I know the ins and outs of this place. I am a pro at not waking my parents, I will be just fine.”

“Betty–” Jughead protests but Betty has already left him to his own devices.

He sighs guiltily, sniffling again and coughing chestily, feeling his lungs strain and feel blocked from phlegm. He groaned softly and quickly stripped his wet clothing off him and dried himself off with a towel. He donned the soft, warm and fresh clothing given to him and couldn’t help the soft moan of relief as his body warmed up a little. He felt comforted and warm in these new clothes.

Jughead quietly pushes the window open again, and wrings out his wet clothing out of the window–and when he finishes he folds them carefully and skilfully. He shakes his backpack out of the window too to get the water out of it, and places the backpack on the floor when he finishes. While waiting, he grabs at the towel he used to dry himself off to start drying at his dark, wet hair which was surely going to be a huge curly mess once it dried.

Betty slowly and nimbly reenters the room,  a steaming cup of tea and medicine in her hands.

Jughead smiles to greet her but the smile is wiped off his face quickly as his nose twitches irritably, as he inhales sharply and buries his face into the towel he was holding to muffle two explosions.

“Bless you,” Betty chuckles and sets the tray down on a table. “You know, for a person so quiet, you really can’t sneeze quietly.”

Jughead chuckled and sniffles, his voice stuffed up and an octave lower, he sounds pathetic, “I guess it makes up for all my time sulking alone.”

Betty stifles her hearty laughter, a little upset she can’t laugh louder because she can’t wake her parents. She reaches for a box of tissues neatly placed by her bedside table and chucks it at him.

“Wow, I can’t believe you can’t appreciate the wonderful, chocolatey huskiness of my voice, do you really want to get rid of it so easily?” Jughead jokes emptily, his jokes not quite as full, feeling hollow and like he’s not even there. He’s clearly not doing too good, and Betty is only now realising that he’s shaking and his breathing is definitely very off.

She watches him worriedly as she picks up the medicine packet and opens it up and gets a pill, and she picks up the tea cup. Jughead blows his nose weakly, the sound sounding horribly sickly. She frowns again and passes the medicine and the tea.

Jughead utters a small thank you before popping the pill into his mouth and downing the pill with the tea. The warmth of the liquid is remarkably soothing against his raw throat, and the warming sensation spreads throughout his body and he feels a lot better. But Betty is frowning at how Jughead’s hands shake as he sips at the tea.

Jughead’s chest is still heavy, and it still hurts to breathe and there’s still a cold pang in the middle of his chest. He puts down the tea and his lip trembles, trying to calm himself down but then he can hear the loud crackling of the thunder again and he starts to lose control. His breathing is erratic, and he can’t hide the look of terror in his face any longer.

Betty kneels down next to him, and slowly reaches for his hands, “Is this okay?”

Jughead nods weakly, and lets her take his hands and rub little circles into them comfortingly.

This situation has happened between them many times before, but it hadn’t happened since they were children. They are childhood friends, after all, they’ve seen each other grow. Betty’s been with Jughead when he’s had panic attacks like this, and while Archie literally didn’t know what to do there was some instinct in her that somehow understood. When they were all 13 Jughead started taking medicine and they didn’t happen as much. Betty wonders why they’ve started again, and the answer her brain gives her is one that she doesn’t like.

Jughead is looking away, eyes darting to the ceiling and to the floor.

“Hey, can you look at me?” Betty says softly, and Jughead does. He looks up at her and the kindness in her eyes is enough for him to steady himself so slightly and she’s so firm and confident that he feels a little more assured. Safe.

“Can you try and copy me? Take your time,” She whispers coaxingly, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Jughead tries to copy her, he is ragged and off rhythm for a little bit, but eventually he matches with her rhythm.

“You’re doing so well, Juggie,” Betty reassures. He feels a little more alive then, now that his body was taking in the oxygen it needed to survive.

He lets out shaky breaths, concentrating on a steady rhythm, and eventually his chest hurts a lot less. He’s a lot lighter. He coughs harshly into his sleeve, restraining the sound so he doesn’t wake Betty’s parents, but it strains his throat.

Jughead picks up the tea again, and sips at it and cherishes the hot liquid that flows down his throat and massages it.

“God, Jug, you should’ve come sooner, being sick in the rain like that was a dumb move,” She whispers as she boops him on his sensitive nose playfully.

A tickle creeps up on him and he pinches his nose and stifles three sneezes, letting out a soft groan when he finishes.

“Bless you,” Betty whispers, stifling her giggles. She leans in again to for his temperature; he’s burning up, but it’s not too bad. Jughead knows if he hadn’t come at all, he would be a lot worse. Betty seems to think the same.

“I’m glad you came to me tonight,” She whispers softly, her eyes kind and genuine.

She chuckles softly, getting up to drape a blanket over him, “Knowing you, your most likely action would be to hide under a tree the whole night.”

Jughead manages a shaky chuckle, pulling the blanket closer around him, letting the warmth blanket him so he can bask in its warmth, “You know, I was going to.”

Betty smirked, “and what changed your mind?”

His eyes soften, “The storm. I..it was too loud and..uh, my heart couldn’t take it.”

He feels so vulnerable, and he detests it. He loathes being outside of the safe walls he has built for himself, as much as they make him feel stifled, being outside of them makes him feel watched and judged and so alienated. Even more detached than he already is.

“Edgy Jughead Jones can’t handle a storm,” Betty jokes.

Jughead can’t help but smile, she knows him so well. She knows that the most she can do for him is to take him away from all of this.

Betty softens a little, and sighs, “But..you do know the obligatory ‘what’s going on’ speech is going to have to happen, right?”

Jughead nods.

“So, what’s going on?”

Jughead feels a pang of pain strike through his chest, tears prick his eyes and he looks away. He doesn’t know where to start, so overwhelmed by it all because he doesn’t know  what’s going on in his life. He’s never asked himself that question, he’s too scared to confront it in fear that if he lets it in, it will never come out again.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” Jughead chokes out weakly, unsure if all the things happening to him is simply catching up to him or if the fever is speaking.

Betty doesn’t press him.

Her gaze is soft and understanding, but firm, “Alright. Okay but promise me you will, maybe not today, maybe not to me, but you will talk about this. Promise?”

She holds her pinky out just like when they children.

Jughead finds himself intertwining his pinky with hers, and he nods. Perhaps he is just looking for that relief and memory of his lost childhood, but something about how kind Betty is to him makes him genuinely promise.

Times like these make Jughead remember that his life isn’t just a Shakespearean tragedy, he has friends who love him. Friends who will always be there for him.

“Promise,” Jughead smiles.

Betty smiles at him sadly, “..So..do you know what you’re doing?”

Jughead shrugs, “I’ll..figure it out when tomorrow comes.”

This is the way his life has gone, living each day by day, any sense of security completely gone.

“..I always do.”

Betty reaches out, her hand comforting on his arm. Her smile is so warm and welcoming, “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He doesn’t really know what to say, because a few tear spills from his eyes and he lets out a shaky breath, managing a weak smile.

‘What makes a home?’ he thinks.

Jughead’s not really sure if he’s ever going to be able to answer the question, (maybe there are some things he will never truly understand, he can only experience), but this is the closest answer he can get for now. That’s alright with him.