Happy Holidays! Number 34 for the reindeer games prompts!
IM SO SORRY I JUST SAW THIS! happy fricken holidays! I did end up writing a short (and super shitty) story for this prompt. I’m really sorry I rushed this and came out choppy, it usually takes me FOREVER to post one of my pieces because it takes me so long to perfect the writing but this is all fun scrap so here:
prompt: wrapping presents (with my twist of Serpent Jughead having to do charity work for his parole and is stunned by the blonde northsider with a kind touch).
“Shit.” The wrapped present looked odd. Though green and red shining paper covered the box, it stuck out from all ends. The gold ribbon was crooked, placed off to the side rather than the middle, with both loops dramatically unbalanced. He huffed a long sigh, his fingers almost cramp from the amount of times he’s repeated the same irritating act only to end up with the same result. There were so many other things he’d rather do with his hands; to grab the lonely cigarette hidden entangled in his raven locks as it rests upon his ear, to hold a steady pole stick as he aimed for the faded eight ball down at the Whyte Wyrm, or to flip the crease of one of the worn pages of the novel tucked in his back pocket. But with the woman in the corner watching his every move, his fingers were cursed to tear the paper and restart again.
“What’s that your sixth failure, Jones?” Her voice made his head ache. The brown in her eyes was nearly black as they stung his skin despite the leather wrapped around his shoulders. Her crimson glasses were crooked as they nearly slipped from the bridge of her small nose. The red of her lipstick smeared across her chin as she scratched an itch from her drastically narrow cupid’s bow.
“I’d like to call it my sixth blooper, Miss. White.” The cut along his lip strained as a small smile spread across his features at the roll of the sixty-four year old’s eyes. A blonde to his right caught the brief grin. It made her heart pump fast against her rib cage and a flush flash across her cheeks. Her blonde ponytail swayed along her pink sweater as she shook her head in an attempt to hold in the giggle bubbling in her throat.
“Complete at least one damn present or you’re not getting any credit for the day. Then I’ll finally have an excuse to ship you straight back to juvie where you belong, boy.” He heard the box wrinkle under the tight pressure of his fists at the words of his parole officer.
“Here.” The whisper was soft and low as it traveled from his right before the delicate touch of her hands found his strained knuckles, brushing over them lightly then gentling aiding his release of the box. Her eyes were wide once they finally connected with his. His favorite color, the same color coiled around the snake on his back, was trapped in her irises.
“Let me help you?” She calmly awaited his response as she searched his features. A clutter of moles painted his olive skin, parts that were bruised a dark purple especially around his lips and left eye. Eyes so intoxicatingly blue it nearly made her lose her breath. She felt a shy smile spread along her face at his choked agreement.
“Okay, here’s a new strip of wrapping paper,” she felt the flush of her cheeks grow darker at the brief graze of his calloused fingers.
“Cooper, yeah I know.” He caught her surprise through his peripheral vision as he placed the paper underneath the box.
“How?” Her question was quiet, breathless even, as it fell from her pillowed lips.
“You’re perky blonde from the North, working at my Southside Elementary, walking down my streets, even befriending some of my guys, of course I know who you are.” The smirk embedded along his lips grew at the realization that flashed for a moment in her eyes, like a shooting star across the night sky.
“You’re the Jughead Jones I’ve heard so much about.” He was almost stunned by the calm tone she obtained. The fact that he was the one who bore the crown to the kingdom of crime and destruction hadn’t seemed to effect the blonde.
“Uh-yeah.” His fingers fumbled awkwardly with the paper. The crease of his brow deepening with concentration made Betty sing a soft giggle. “What?” He choked out a nervous chuckle that almost harmonized with hers.
“Be patient with the present, don’t rush it’s not going anywhere.” Her nude manicure gripped two sides of the wrapping, “Take these longer pieces and blanket the box and now, here put the tape here.” She guided his hands through the whole process, even helping with the rabbit ears of the ribbon, until the box resembled the bunches of presents in Betty’s completed pile.
“Thank you, Betty Cooper.”
“No worries, Jughead Jones.” Their fingers were slightly entwined, entangled in the golden ribbon, until the voice of Miss. White drove them apart and back to their respective tables.
Though an hour later, after most had gone and all boxes had been wrapped in a variety of colored paper, Jughead wrapped his leather chad arm around the blonde, whispering quietly into her ear, “Now let me go show you what the southsides really like now that I’m home.”
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