Ficlet (Riverdale): Home
Feb. 6th, 2018 01:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cookiegirlRiverdale fic! I am a couple episodes into season 2 and loving it ♥ Hopefully I'll be all caught up soon. It's so twisty turny, and so beautifully filmed, and everyone is so freaking gorgeous. I am thoroughly crushing on Jughead. (And Betty, and Veronica, and Fred, and sometimes even Archie.)
Title: Home
Author: cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Jughead, Betty, Jughead/Betty
Wordcount: 419
Rating: G
Summary: Jughead thinks he knows where he belongs. Written for the prompt "Any, any, look into your eyes and know I'm home" fromjuliet316 as part of the recent challenge on ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly
Looking into Betty's eyes is becoming painful for Jughead.
He loves her - damn, he loves her so freaking much, maybe more than he's ever loved anyone or anything. And she loves him back, against all odds. Against everything that dictates that a girl like Betty should be with a guy like Archie: a golden boy, good at sports, beacon-like in his earnestness.
She's with Jughead instead, and he doesn't even feel like he's her second choice most of the time.
But they're being naive. He doesn't belong in her world. Her beautiful house, her pastel outfits, her shiny hair, her straight-A grades; everything about her is made of lightness and purity, and Jughead will only tarnish it. Betty doesn't see it. She doesn't look ten years down the line and realize how different they are, how impossible it would be to forge a life together here, or anywhere.
Jughead wishes he could ignore all of that. That he could carry on pretending they fit together. But he can't.
The only thing that fits him right these days is his leather jacket, with the serpent on the back. Somehow it moulds to his body, claiming him for itself. He starts to wear it more and more, whenever he's at home in the trailer, whenever Betty's not around.
He wears it to the Serpents' bar one night. Just...testing it out. To see. He steps into the doorway, and the smell of oil and beer and greasy chicken wings welcomes him like an old friend.
"Jug!" someone shouts, and then there's a strong arm around him pulling him in out of the cold, into the crowded room, and a hand slapping him on the back. Someone else - Bobby, Jughead thinks his name is - calls out "It's F.P.'s lad!", voice echoing above the sounds of scraping stools and pool cues knocking into balls.
"Get the boy a beer!" yells a voice that Jughead recognizes though can't put a name to, and then a guy who looks familiar is pushing a glass into his hand, cool liquid sloshing over the top a little and dripping down the sides. Jughead licks the foam off his fingers and the man laughs and kicks a bar stool towards him.
"Sit, kid," he says, and Jughead does, because this is where he belongs. This is his home, and it always will be, whether he wants it to be or not.
He just has to pluck up the courage to tell Betty he can't pretend anymore.
Title: Home
Author: cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Jughead, Betty, Jughead/Betty
Wordcount: 419
Rating: G
Summary: Jughead thinks he knows where he belongs. Written for the prompt "Any, any, look into your eyes and know I'm home" from
juliet316 as part of the recent challenge on fic_promptly Looking into Betty's eyes is becoming painful for Jughead.
He loves her - damn, he loves her so freaking much, maybe more than he's ever loved anyone or anything. And she loves him back, against all odds. Against everything that dictates that a girl like Betty should be with a guy like Archie: a golden boy, good at sports, beacon-like in his earnestness.
She's with Jughead instead, and he doesn't even feel like he's her second choice most of the time.
But they're being naive. He doesn't belong in her world. Her beautiful house, her pastel outfits, her shiny hair, her straight-A grades; everything about her is made of lightness and purity, and Jughead will only tarnish it. Betty doesn't see it. She doesn't look ten years down the line and realize how different they are, how impossible it would be to forge a life together here, or anywhere.
Jughead wishes he could ignore all of that. That he could carry on pretending they fit together. But he can't.
The only thing that fits him right these days is his leather jacket, with the serpent on the back. Somehow it moulds to his body, claiming him for itself. He starts to wear it more and more, whenever he's at home in the trailer, whenever Betty's not around.
He wears it to the Serpents' bar one night. Just...testing it out. To see. He steps into the doorway, and the smell of oil and beer and greasy chicken wings welcomes him like an old friend.
"Jug!" someone shouts, and then there's a strong arm around him pulling him in out of the cold, into the crowded room, and a hand slapping him on the back. Someone else - Bobby, Jughead thinks his name is - calls out "It's F.P.'s lad!", voice echoing above the sounds of scraping stools and pool cues knocking into balls.
"Get the boy a beer!" yells a voice that Jughead recognizes though can't put a name to, and then a guy who looks familiar is pushing a glass into his hand, cool liquid sloshing over the top a little and dripping down the sides. Jughead licks the foam off his fingers and the man laughs and kicks a bar stool towards him.
"Sit, kid," he says, and Jughead does, because this is where he belongs. This is his home, and it always will be, whether he wants it to be or not.
He just has to pluck up the courage to tell Betty he can't pretend anymore.
