The Society by SunlitGarden

A short story on Mr. Chipping's desk convinces Betty that she needs the author in her life and at Stonewall Prep. With enough research and charm, he should be easy enough to convince. Once she meets Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, however, she realizes he's so much more than a brilliant writer: he's her soulmate.

Determined to change the world for the better, she educates him on their elite Society, prepping him to join them. In Jughead's arms, though, Betty feels a whole new kind of salvation.

Read chapter one on AO3

Betty is trapped in New York. Jughead is on the other side of the country. In a moment of loneliness and desperation, she signs up for a month-long writing prompt series. This is her journey in writing.

She had everything she needed. Coffee, food, toilet paper (honestly, of all the things for people to hoard), and plenty of books to keep her occupied.

The only thing that her home was lacking, however, was the one thing she wanted most.

Jughead Jones stood back and watched Betty Cooper do watch she did best, grill people. They were chasing down another mystery—a habit they picked up when they were teens in the cursed small town that they were both raised in. Years and several heartbreaks later they found each other in the others orbit. At first, he wasn’t happy that his editor had asked him to shadow an actual FBI agent. Jughead had scoffed at the idea. But that wasn’t good enough for his jaded albeit brilliant editor. So, now his job was to follow around some bubbling pseudo-cop who his job he could probably do better.

hold me tight and think of home

Jughead yelps in surprise as she tackles him around the middle, sending them both careening into the bushes beside the dirt trail. His head slams into the dirt and the breath is knocked out of him as she lands on top of him. Bewildered, Jughead opens his mouth to ask what the hell is happening but Betty slaps a hand over his mouth before he can.

She shushes him hurriedly and goes very still above him. That’s when he hears the distant clatter of a horse’s hooves on the path, the sound of a carriage coming up the road. The sound grows louder by the second and he prays the bushes will offer enough covering and that they haven’t been seen already.

Above him, Betty shifts, causing the short hairs falling out of her elegant twist to tickle his cheek. Jughead tenses, inhaling sharply, but it only allows the delicate scent of her perfume to cloud his mind. It’s light, floral, like jasmine and lavender, and for a moment Jughead forgets where he is and what he’s doing. More of her weight sinks onto him and Jughead panics, unsure where to put his hands. Her waist seems like the most natural place, but then he imagines the soft curves he felt last night while they were dancing and opts to leave himself awkwardly sprawled across the ground.

He holds himself very still, trying not to squirm as the coach comes closer and Betty presses tighter against his chest. Her breath is hot against his ear.

read part three on AO3

A bughead stardust!AU

Jughead Jones crosses the wall separating Riverdale from a land of magic in search of a fallen star. He was never expecting the star to be a beautiful young woman named Betty. Intent on bringing Betty back to Riverdale, it becomes a race against time as they’re pursued by pirates, murderous princes, and a witch seeking the heart of the fallen star.

Over the past few months my mental health has taken a massive turn for the worse meaning that my bughead fic hasnt been updated in months. I loved writing it I just havent been able to recently, but i would really like to continue. I cant guarantee how often or when it’ll be updated... but is it worth me carrying on? Would anybody be interested in reading if i continued with it, even though it’s been forever and updates might be sparse?

Okay, I wasn’t satisfied with this, but here it is! Never quite sure what direction to take an AU so I did mid-twenties Betty and Jughead, meeting in another life.

He was here again. Betty felt a little fizz of pleasure run through her - the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy with the sarcastic tilt to his mouth and the keen, perceptive eyes was sitting in his favored spot at the coffee shop counter. Betty had started coming to Casablanca’s only two weeks ago, after moving to Riverdale from Los Angeles, and had initially wandered in, at 10pm, expecting it to be a bar, given the name. Instead, the kindly barista had explained that the owner loved classic movies, and had given the shop an international flair by offering coffee brewing methods from all over the world. The nameless boy had been there then, sitting at the counter with a laptop in front of him, and as she glanced at him through the half-shadows - for the shop had just closed - dark eyes lifted from the screen to study her without expression. She’d been struck, at once, by the quizzical slant of his face, and by the piercing intelligence of those eyes.

Since then, she’d come every few days, mostly for the exquisite, exotic coffee - impossibly sweet Turkish lattes, muddy Sudanese brews with the grounds still floating in them, perfectly balanced Italian espressos - but also to see him. She’d come armed with some notebooks and a textbook this time, for her class on Violence Against Women. The shop was unusually crowded - probably because finals were coming up. Walking up to the counter, ignoring the boy, she studied the menu briefly, trying to decide what to try this time.

“Panama geisha.” A voice broke through her thoughts. “I’m sorry?” she turned to the boy, who had shifted sideways in his seat and was, disconcertingly, studying her. “It’s a balance of sweet and bitter.” He offered her a half-smile that made his eyes crinkle in all kinds of interesting ways. “It suits you.”Betty didn’t know whether this was a compliment or otherwise, but nodded, examining him in turn now that she had a chance to. She should think of him as a man, she thought, that was more accurate to his age - he looked to be mid-twenties like her - but someone she couldn’t stop thinking of him as “the Boy.”“Thank you. Medium Panama geisha, please,” she asked the barista, who by this time knew her. “Coming right up, Miss Betty,” he responded promptly and whirled away. Betty shifted her books and looked around, unable to spot a seat in the crowded shop. “Sit,” the boy said gently, lifting his coat off the bar stool next to him. Betty spotted two seats open at the far back, but who was she kidding, she came here to see this boy, and she wasn’t about to pass up the chance. “Thanks.”“Any woman fighting the hard battle you’re in deserves a seat and the best caffeine around,” he said, nodding at her books. Betty glanced down. “How do you know this isn’t just a general ed class and I’m gritting my teeth through it while I major in marketing with an emphasis on high-end fashion blogging?”Laughter crossed his eyes and was gone quick as a flash. “Because I happen to know that isn’t a general ed class. And because your style is too unique for you to be into Vogue. What are you studying?”“International Affairs. I’m focusing on human rights challenges for women,” she said, slightly curious to see if he’d be at all intimidated, or bored - a lot of men were. Instead, he looked at her with a snap of complete attention, as though she was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, and she caught her breath, feeling like the world had receded and left just the two of them. The blue plaid brought out the multi-colored shades of his eyes - blue and green - and he wore a stylish black coat over it with the effortless ease of someone very, very comfortable in their own skin. Curly dark hair sprung in all directions, and she resisted the impulse to push back one lock that had fallen over his eye.

Riverdale Bughead fic

Word Count: 1,270

*Based on future Bughead*

Jughead and Betty have to learn how to cope with a baby that has some powerful vocals.

The baby was crying again for what seemed to be the millionth time. Poor Betty had tried everything to get their baby to calm down, but no matter what she did, little Rose's face stayed bright red and scrunched. It had been that way every night for the past 3 nights in a row, and while Jughead tried to help, the baby just wanted-well, that's the thing I guess. Rose didn't know what she wanted and Betty and Jughead were at a loss. Jughead had suggested leaving her to cry it out for a bit, although that idea was quickly vetoed by the look on Betty's face. It was the look of the complete horror of a very new mother. Of course, Jughead was a very new father too, but, admittedly, he was getting far more sleep than Betty and by default had the arguably clearer mind.