#spd2019

Shamrock Shenanigans: a Riverdale St. Patrick’s Day Drabble Collection

“You can rub me for luck.”

Sweet Pea x Reader || Requested by @rivendell101 and & @trxatyoubvtter|| 616 Words

Laughing, you took the pitcher of green beer from the bar, sliding Hog Eye a few singles gratefully.  Then, you made your way through the crowded bar back to the pool tables where Sweet Pea and Fangs were destroying yet another pair of drunk Northsiders at pool. You slid back into place next to Sweet Pea, kissing him lightly on the neck just before he made a shot.

He jerked with surprise, his grip on the cue faltering as he missed the shot entirely. “Babe, keep doing shit like that, and Fangs and I are going to lose.”

Fangs scoffed, nearly knocking the massive green and gold leprechaun hat he was wearing off his head. “As if, man.  You may suck as soon as you’re distracted by a pretty girl, but I carry this team anyways.”

Sweet Pea gave him a dark look, a gesture rendered somewhat ineffective by the fact that he was, like Fangs, wearing a massive green and gold leprechaun hat.

“Aw, come on, Sweets,” you murmured, pressing your lips lightly into his neck. “I thought I was your good luck charm.”

He picked up his cup and refilled it with beer, his gaze flicking over you.  Like the boys, you were dressed in your St. Patrick’s Day best, in this case, bright green shorts and a four-leaf clover tank top that were entirely weather-inappropriate. “Oh, are you now?”

You took a sip of your own beer, taking a step closer to him so that your chests were nearly pressed together. “Mhm, you can even rub me for luck.”

A loan groan escaped his throat, and he grabbed your hips to pull you in close. “You don’t know how badly I want to, beautiful.”

“Excuse me,” Fangs interrupted, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Can you guys maybe not fuck at the pool table today?”

“What the hell are you implying by today, Fogarty?” you laughed, pulling away slightly from Sweet Pea.

“You know damn well what I’m implying,” he said, giving you both a firm look. “Now, Sweet Pea, it’s your shot.”

Reluctantly, Sweet Pea let go of you, setting down his drink to pick up his cue.  He made the shot quickly, earning a cheer from Fangs. As he walked around the table to line up the next one, he winked at you. “Maybe you are my good luck charm.”

“Told you so.” You took another sip of your drink to cover your smirk.  The rest of the game went by quickly, Sweet Pea and Fangs making the shots easily so that they could once again collect their winnings.

Sweet Pea was back at your side in an instant. “I think I might need to rub you a little bit more before our next game, princess,” he murmured, his voice low as his lips pressed into your neck.  He nipped slightly, sucking hard at the sensitive skin.

“Sweet Pea!” you laughed, fighting back a needy moan. “We’re still in public!”

“Okay fine.” He smirked, running his hand through your hair and holding your hips tight against his. “What do they say on St. Patrick’s Day?  Kiss me, I’m Irish….or drunk….or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up on your tiptoes to kiss him.  He deepened the kiss, running his hands down your sides to your lower back to hold you against him.  Your eyes drifted shut and you smiled through the kiss.

“Ahem,” Fangs interrupted. “What did I say about fucking on the pool table?”

Sweet Pea pulled away from you with a smirk to look over at his friend. “You’re jealous you don’t get to?”

Shamrock Shenanigans: a St. Patrick’s Day Drabble Collection

“Should’ve stayed home...”

Sweet Pea x Reader || Requested by Anon || 812 Words

“Please don’t make me go, Betty,” you whined as your friend threw handfuls of green clothes at you. “You know I hate huge parties like this.”

“But it’ll be so much fun!” she argued. “Now put on something green unless you want every creepy within arm’s reach making a grab at your ass.”

You rolled your eyes, begrudgingly swapping out your plain black t-shirt for a green one with a giant four-leaf clover on it.  The simple shirt gave you an impressive amount of cleavage, and you gave Betty a skeptical look. “Seriously, Cooper? This one?”

She shrugged innocently, biting back a smirk. “Hey, it’s been a while since you’ve been on a date, and I’m just trying to help you out.”

Shaking your head, you finished adorning yourself in tacky green clothes and gave her a look. “Fine, let’s do this.”

~

When you got to the bar, it was absolutely packed.  Every inch of the room was full of people, and all of them were wearing tacky shades of green.  There were even a few people in leprechaun costumes of varying quality in the crowd.  Biting back a groan, you made your way to the bar, only to realize that you’d lost Betty somewhere along the way.

“What can I getcha?” the bartender asked, flashing a bright grin.

You had to swallow a judgmental look when you saw the bright green crop top she was wearing—she’s just doing her job, you reminded yourself.

“Whatever the cheap beer is,” you replied, leaning against the bar top and pulling back quickly when you felt the sticky surface.

She returned a moment later with a green beer in a plastic cup, and you slid her some cash.

You made a face and took a big sip of the green beer, trying to shake off your grumpiness and look for your missing friend.

“Aw, don’t tell me it’s that bad,” a low voice said.  The man who had slid into place next to you was tall, dressed in a plain green t-shirt and black jeans.  His dark hair was messy, and your eyes were drawn to the snake tattoo on his neck. You had to fight to keep your jaw from dropping.

“No, I—um—fuck, I’m just not a huge fan of bars on St. Patrick’s Day.”

His lips curved into a smirk, and your heart thudded against your chest. “Really? Why’s that?”

You sighed, taking another gulp of beer. “Well, it’s too damn loud and crowded, for one,” you started.  You took another sip of beer. “And everyone’s drunk by like noon, which is absolutely dumb. Oh, and everything’s just so dirty—like, the bar’s sticky.”

He made a face, and you couldn’t quite discern what it was.  “Anything else?” he bit back a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah.” You were on a roll now, and you had almost finished the green beer. “The guys also get so much worse.  I mean, really, the whole pinching thing is just a goddamn excuse for guys to be even creepier than usual.  And this bar’s already got a rep for being creepy.  Like, I’d never be here if it weren’t for my friend Betty dragging me along—apparently, her boyfriend really likes it or something.”

“Oh really?” He gestured to your empty cup and signaled the bartender. “Let me grab you another one.”

“No, that’s fine, I—”

“Really, I’ve got it.” His dark eyes flashed with amusement as the same crop-topped bartender brought you another green beer.  You noticed that he didn’t have one for himself.

You were just about to ask for his name when all of a sudden Betty was next to you again, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I thought I lost you!” she exclaimed, the smell of alcohol on her breath.  Her eyebrows waggled when she saw who you had been talking to. “Oh, and I see you’ve met Sweet Pea—he’s the owner of the bar.”

Your jaw dropped as he held out his hand to shake yours.  Your words ran through your head, and you cringed. I’d never be here if it weren’t for my friend Betty dragging me along.

He laughed at your expression, the sound cutting through your dazed embarrassment. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh my God, I’m so fucking sorry, I—”

“It’s fine.” He glanced around. “I don’t think I’d be here if I didn’t have to be right now, either.”

Betty disappeared again, shouting something about Jughead, and you could feel a hot blush sitting in your cheeks with no sign of fading.

“I really am sorry, I—”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” He smirked, his eyes running over you in a way that made your heart race. “Want a different drink?  Those green beers are the worst.”

SHAMROCK SHENANIGANS: A RIVERDALE ST. PATRICK’S DAY DRABBLE COLLECTION

“Why exactly do you need to find four-leaf clovers at 2AM?”

Bughead & Sweet Pea  || Requested by @theheavycrown || 1122 Words

Sweet Pea woke up to the sound of banging on his door.  He flew into action, sliding out of bed and grabbing his pocketknife. Within seconds, he was at the door, weapon at the ready.  Then, the banging started again, this time with shouting.

“Open the door, Sweet Pea, it’s important!”

Jughead Jones. With a groan, Sweet Pea pocketed his knife and unlocked the door.  As soon as he pulled it open, Jughead was rushing in, a frenzied look on his face.

“What can I help you with, Jughead?” Sweet Pea asked sleepily.  Blinking away his exhaustion, he glanced at the clock on the microwave.  It was two in the morning, and whatever it was, he wanted nothing to do with it.

“I need your help with something,” he said, a little breathless. “Something important.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Sweet Pea said boredly.  He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What is it?”

“Four-leaf clovers,” Jughead said, finally catching his breath and giving Sweet Pea a steady look. “I need to find a four-leaf clover—as many as I can, really.”

Sweet Pea’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head confusedly. “Why exactly do you need to find four-leaf clovers at 2AM?”

Shamrock Shenanigans: a St. Patrick’s Day Drabble Collection

“What have we done?”

Sweet Pea & Fangs friendship || Requested by @sweetpeasbabydoll || 728 Words

Glancing at Fangs to assure the distraction was working, Sweet Pea crept around the bar. Toni was pouring drinks, slinging green beer and mint shots at the speed of light.  She hadn’t seen him yet—every time she was about to glance back at him, Fangs would ask her another random question.

Sweet Pea took another cautious step, staying low beneath the bar as he reached out in front of him, his hand only inches from Toni’s exposed waist.

Fangs smirked, covering it by lifting his beer to his lips.  Subtly, he nodded, and Sweet Pea sprang into action.

With one hand, he pinched Toni hard in the side, using the other hand to push away from the bar and start sprinting the other way.

“Goddamnit, Sweet Pea!” she snapped, trying to slap him.  “What the hell, dude?  I’m wearing green!”

“That’s not green!” he shouted back, already halfway out the door with Fangs. “It’s olive!”

“Olive green, you idiot!”

Fangs and Sweet Pea didn’t even slow down to listen to her response.  Instead, Fangs punched Sweet Pea playfully on the shoulder, both of them laughing as they crossed the parking lot.

“That was such a good one, man,” Fangs chuckled, running his hand through his hair.  Like his friend, he was adorned in an all-green outfit: green jeans, a green t-shirt, and a green flannel.

“So where to next?” Sweet Pea asked. “I think we got everyone we could at the Wyrm.”

“Not to mention Toni will absolutely throw a beer at us if we go back in there.”

“Well, we could always—wait, there!” Sweet Pea pointed at someone climbing off their bike in the drug store parking lot. “That guy doesn’t have any green on.”

“Good catch—he doesn’t look like a Ghoulie, either.” Fangs looked up at his friend, biting back a smirk.

“Dude, I had no idea that chick was a Ghoulie—how was I supposed to know I’d have like a dozen drugged-up guys chasing me for one harmless little pinch.”

“One harmless pinch?  Pea, you pinched her—”

“Quick, duck!” Sweet Pea yanked Fangs behind a bush—the man was coming toward them now. Neither had seen his face, but his coat was plain black leather, not gang affiliated.

“You want to go in for the pinch or should I?” Fangs asked dropping his voice to a whisper.

Sweet Pea’s face lit up in an excited grin. “I say we go for the double.”

“The double?” Fangs eyebrows shot up his forehead. “That’s a big move—you really think we’re ready?”

“I know we are, man.” Sweet Pea took a deep breath. “This is the moment we’ve been preparing for.  We’ve been waiting all day for this opportunity, and it’s time to take it.”

Fangs inhaled, his eyes drifting shut.  For a moment, he stayed like that, crouched behind the bush, thinking it over.  Then, he opened his eyes and exhaled hard. “You’re right—we need to do this.”

“Glad you’re on board, man,” Sweet Pea laughed, slapping his shoulder. “Ready?”

Fangs glanced around the bush, checking how close the man was. “Ready.”

“Alright, then.” Sweet Pea grinned. “Let’s do it.”

Both boys crept the edge of the book, preparing to leap out to attack their target.  Silently, Sweet Pea counted down with his fingers. He held Fangs gaze as he mouthed the word, Go.

They exploded out of the bush, pinching fingers ready.  Pinching him in perfect unison, they both erupted into amused laughter.

“Nice one, man!”

“For real—”

“What the hell are you boys doing?”

They both froze, their hearts stopping.  They knew that voice.

FP turned around, his face twisted in fury. “Did you two idiots really just hide in a bush to pinch me?”

“I—um—no?” Fangs said, slowly creeping behind Sweet Pea.

“We would never,” Sweet Pea added.  He grabbed at Fangs, yanking him out in front of him as FP stalked toward them. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Fangs slapped away Sweet Pea’s hands, tripping over his feet in an attempt to escape.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna—”

“RUN!” Sweet Pea bellowed, abandoning Fangs as he took off in the opposite direction. “RUN, MAN, RUN!”

Fangs took off, glancing over his shoulder to see FP giving them a confused look. “Where to next?”

SHAMROCK SHENANIGANS: A RIVERDALE ST. PATRICK’S DAY DRABBLE COLLECTION

“But I am wearing green!”

Sweet Pea x Jubilee Jones; Sweet Pea, Fangs, Jubilee, and Jughead friendship || Requested by @rivendell101 || 918 Words

Smirking, Fangs reached out in front of him, trying to bite back a giggle.  Just before he was able to pinch the exposed skin of Jubilee’s hip, though, the turned, slapping him away.

“What the hell, Fangs?” she snapped. “What are you doing?”

“Pinching you!” he replied indignantly, pulling himself back up to his full height. “You’re not wearing any green, Jones.”

Jubilee sighed, setting down her drink on the top of the bar. “But Fangs, I am wearing green.”

He gave her a skeptical look.  The Whyte Wyrm was entirely packed with people, and all of them were wearing green. Even Jughead had pinned a sparkly shamrock to his beanie.  Jubilee, though, was wearing one of her usual outfits—dark jeans, a sweater, and a leather coat—none of which was green.  

Next to them, Sweet Pea sighed tiredly, dragging his gaze away from the TV behind the bar. “She is wearing green, Fangs.”

“What?  No, she’s not!  Unless I’m suddenly colorblind, it’s pretty damn clear to me that—” His voice faltered, and suddenly the skeptical looks Sweet Pea and Jubilee were giving him made sense. “Oh, I see.  The green is—” He cleared his throat. “An underlayer?”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a chuckle. “Sure is, Fangs.”

“Well then.” Fangs held her gaze, taking a sip of his own drink, trying to pull himself up to his full height. “I want proof.”

“Proof?” Jubilee’s eyebrows rose. “You want to see proof that I’m wearing green underwear.”

“I sure do,” Fangs replied promptly. “I can’t trust that you’re not lying to me without proof.”

“Oh,” Jubilee said, climbing off her barstool. “I see—I suppose that makes sense.  You deserve that kind of proof, Fangs.” She shrugged off her coat, tossing it over the back of her chair. “And since I have on a green bra and panties, I suppose I need to take off all of my clothes right here, don’t I?”

“Wait, I—”

She had unbuckled her belt, tossing it on top of the discarded coat.  Next, her hands moved to the button of her jeans, and Fangs sputtered out an objection.

“Wait, stop!”

“Stop?” She gave him an innocent look, cocking her head.  “But, Fangs, you need proof.”

Fangs glanced at Sweet Pea—his grip had tightened on his beer bottle, and his knuckles were starting to turn white.  He was giving Fangs a look that Fangs knew would only lead to pain.

“I don’t need proof,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Please, Jubilee, do not take your clothes off in the middle of the Whyte Wyrm.”

She smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she picked her belt back up and slipped it on. “Thought not.”

Sweet Pea just rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the TV as his grip loosened on the beer bottle. “You’re walking a fine line, Fogarty.”

“As if I haven’t seen Jubilee naked before,” Fangs scoffed, grabbing a beer from the bar and sitting down next to them. “I mean, it’s not like you guys are great at locking doors.”

“You’re the one who never fucking knocks!” Sweet Pea spat, about to leap off the seat.

Fangs tossed his hands in the air, trying not to shout. “And that’s not likely to change, so you guys may as well get better at locking the door!”

From the pool tables, Jughead had heard the whole interaction, and like Sweet Pea, he had been about ready to clock Fangs when Jubilee started taking her belt off. Silently, he crept around the bar, ducking into the crowd to hide himself from their view.

The three of them were still arguing, and it wasn’t hard for Jughead to slip through the masses of people to sneak into the space next to them undetected.  Jubilee was on her feet again, and he wasn’t sure if she was yelling at Sweet Pea or Fangs.  It didn’t matter for what he was about to do though.

His lips curved into a mischievous grin, and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as his hand shot out toward her.  It was the perfect pinch—directly on her exposed hip, hard enough to make her jump with surprise.

“What the—Jughead?” she shouted. “What the hell?  Where did you even come from?”

Jughead was laughing too hard to answer.  All he could do was clutch his sides.

“I was wearing green, you idiot!”

“Well, I can’t see it,” he countered. “And before you say another word—no, I do not want proof!”

Jubilee’s lips pressed into a tight line, her dark eyes fixed harshly on her brother.  Like a flash, her hand shot out, knocking his beanie off his head and sending it flying across the room.  Then her hand was on his shoulder, pinching hard just above his collar.

“OW! Jubilee, what the hell?” he snapped, slapping her hand away. “I was wearing green!”

“Well, I can’t see it,” she replied, mimicking his lower voice.

Sweet Pea burst out in laughter, nearly spitting out his beer.  Both Jughead and Jubilee turned to glare at him, their matching expressions of fury shutting him up in a heartbeat.  He swallowed hard. “Hey, guys, can’t we all just be friends?”

A collection of St. Patrick’s Day Drabbles featuring Sweet Pea, Fangs Fogarty, Toni Topaz, Reggie Mantle, Jughead Jones, and Betty Cooper.  Includes romance, comedy, chaos, leprechauns, and more!

Requests taken from this prompt list.

 READ ON A03 ABOVE OR ON TUMBLR HERE!

SHAMROCK SHENANIGANS: A RIVERDALE ST. PATRICK’S DAY DRABBLE COLLECTION

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in leprechaun jail…and with you of all people.”

Fangs Fogarty x Reader || Requested by @thecaptainsgingersnap  || 1069 Words

Fangs woke up to bright lights and pain.  Every part of his body was screaming with pain, and his throat was so dry it hurt. He dragged his eyes open, and everything was blurry.  Everything was also really cold, and the bed underneath him was hard and scratchy.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” you chirped, running your hand through his messy hair. “Glad to see you’re alive.”

He blinked hard, trying to sit up, but he was overwhelmed with familiar nausea. “What happened?  Where are we?”

“One question at a time, champ,” you laughed, helping him upright. “And drink some of this.”

You pressed a glass of water into his hand and he drank greedily.  Then, after a few more groggy blinks, he managed to get his eyes open to scan the room around you.  The room was small, mostly cement, and one wall was all bars.  Jail?  And you weren’t alone, either.  In addition to you and Fangs, who were squeezed together on one tiny bunk, the room was filled with an assortment of people in sloppy green costumes.

“Are we—” Fangs cut off, the words too ridiculous to be true. “Are we in jail?”

“We sure are,” you replied, significantly less hungover than him. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

“To me?” His eyes widened in surprise, and he sat up more fully to look around. “What the hell happened last night?”

Oh my God.  I love this.  It absolutely will happen.