“Amick herself is rooting for Alice to let it all out and drop her uptight façade and, “maybe have like a wild night out. Maybe with girls, maybe with a guy, I’m just saying. Maybe Alice could have like a night fling with Jughead’s dad. It might be fun that she has to do the walk of shame home. As she stumbles in with like one heel.”
I’m here to fulfill half of Mädchen Amick’s wish for season two of Riverdale. Plus, the Riverparents were never a clique in this fic. F.P. and Fred have a somewhat stable friendship, Mary and Hermione aren’t really friends, while Alice despises them all.
Started: May 30th.
Ended: July 7th.
Pairings: Alice Cooper x F.P. Jones + background Betty x Jughead.
Tags: So much angst + bittersweetness, old lovers reuniting (sorta), someone’s getting tipsy/buzzed idk what im talkin about, ANGST, lip-locking + smutty goodies (not too graphic), FEELS, repressed memories + feelings on both their sides, FLASHBACKS and the parallels we deseve and Serpents, @novelistjugheadjones.
Words: 8k.
Summary: Needing to extract herself from the craziness engulfing the Northside, Alice finds solace in one specific bar located south, reminiscing the events that led up to that day.
Warning: Not too graphic mature content.
Note: This fic partially follows canon compliant, and it centers mostly around Alice and her past as a Serpent; don’t worry, Alice and F.P. will be going at it further into the plot. Bughead is mentioned, only briefly.
The co-owner of The Register cannot take it anymore.
She is in need of some quality time alone to comprehend every tiny gossip and rumor going around Riverdale at the moment, from F.P. Jones’ contemplative release, to wild guesses of who could have shot Fred Andrews.
Some of the accusations have little to no evidence to back them up, while others are incredibly hard to digest, having been carefully thought through.
Alice’s current duty is to read the upcoming news article thoroughly, simply to make sure she did not make rookie mistakes as to discretely let her own opinion sneak into the news article.
She must keep her opinions to herself at any cost.
Rolling her shoulders has become her everyday routine (and habit) every single time she feels herself drift into sleep. It helps her shoulder muscles relax, allowing her to prop her elbows on her organized desk, cupping her face with both hands, her manicured fingers rubbing her droopy eyes.
The blonde steals a glance at the family picture on her right. She reaches out to display it at a proper angle, so that any person who comes inside her office (whether business related or not) can subconsciously praise her for the family she got.
Even though some may have sneaked a peak behind the curtains.
Prompt: Jughead imagine where reader and him go out to pop’s with the gang and juggie feels a little handsy especially with your skirt so pretty along your things (thigh touchinnn) ;)
A/N: It’s short and probably not what you had in mind xxx
Warnings: Jughead clearly can’t keep his hands to himself. Kevin being a little shit and ruins the moment.
Summary: You and Jughead have been at each others throats for years. But after a drunken night you barely remember, you’re left confused on where your relationship stands.
Word Count: 1,616
Warnings: language, mentions of sex, drinking(?)
A/N: I just really love a good love/hate relationship and haven’t seen many Jughead x reader versions, so I made my own. (I also didn’t proof read it so let me know if there are any mistakes) Please send feedback! Constructive criticism is appreciated! :)
Summary: Casual sex was never a strong suit of yours, so you really should have expected you’d get caught on your own feelings for a particular man with a killer smile who just so happened to live upstairs.
Notes: italics are the reader’s thoughts. This fic is based off of the song ‘sex’ by EDEN.
Warnings: implied smut (nothing graphic because this is me), maybe a lil bit of cussing, Sam Winchester is a life ruiner.
“I haven’t even met my new neighbor and I already hate her,” you announced as you took a seat, handing a mug of your special homemade hot chocolate to your best friend and taking a sip of your own. “She was blasting music until 11 at night and I heard really loud footsteps up until then. It was obnoxious and I swear I came close to marching up there and telling her to cut it out.”
You and Jared were backstage during one of Jensen’s solo panels, the two of you not having anything to do until autos two hours later.
Jensen, however, didn’t know the two of you were listening. If he did, he wouldn’t have said what he did.
“I was wondering what it’s like working with Y/N?” a fan asked, and Jensen laughed softly.
“She’s great. Such a natural actress,” he replied.
“It feels like there’s a ‘but’ coming,” the fan prompted.
“Yeah,” he laughed, “It’s just… Whenever we’re filming and she’s watching our scenes, she’ll get this look on her face, and nobody else seems to notice, but I see it… all the time.”
“Like what?”
“God, she’s gonna kill me when she hears this,” he murmured, and your cheeks began to heat up, “She’s watching Jared and I, and her eyes are all, ‘I- I just… I love you, Jared’. Girl’s got it bad. And he’s like it with her. But they’ll never admit it to each other so I’m just the guy caught up in the middle of their flirtatious looks.”
Your mouth dropped open, and Jared turned to face you, raising an eyebrow.
As you walked into the Great Hall, grouped amongst the other first year students, you smiled, noting the illusionary star filled sky, and the candle sticks magically floating above your head.
Attending Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, had been your dream for many years, and at the tender age of eleven, you were finally here, following in the footsteps of your elder brothers.
With the intent of remembering this moment for the rest of your life, you scanned the massive stone room, eyeing everything from the expressions of hungry older students, up to the intricate sculptures decorating the walls.
You examined the professors sitting behind the Head Table, intrigued by the glee evident on each of their faces, before shifting your attention to the variety of roaming ghosts.
It felt as though you had died and awoken in your own personal Heaven.
Coming to a halt behind some of the other students, you beamed in the direction of Headmistress McGonagall as she stood, holding her arms open in greeting. She briefly explained the history behind the four houses, introduced the professors, and spoke of the importance behind the many lessons that you would be taught during the school year, apparently saving some of the ground-rules for later in the evening.
Not that you didn’t already know them.
In fact, you had spent the entire summer endlessly asking your older brothers, Sam and Dean, questions about the school, spells, and even Hogsmeade; though, you wouldn’t be allowed to visit the village until you were a third year student.
Giddy with excitement, you thought you might explode, only able to calm yourself when the professor of Herbology, Neville Longbottom, revealed the famous Sorting Hat.
Not only would the Sorting Hat place you into one of the four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin, this first and last encounter with the magical hat would more than likely determine who you would associate with for the next seven years.
Your eldest brother, Dean, a sixth year student, had been sorted into Gryffindor, the house known for quartering Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.
The Golden Trio.
Sam, your other brother, now the second year student who was best known for his academic accomplishments and intelligence, had been sorted into the Ravenclaw house.
Both of your brothers had each raved about their independent houses, basically turning your home away from Hogwarts into a miniature turf-war .
Lion versus Eagle.
Red and Gold versus Blue and Bronze.
Though it was all in good fun, you couldn’t help but to wonder how the mood might shift should you join the Gryffindor house with Dean, the Ravenclaw house with Sam, or claim new ground within one of the remaining houses.
I suppose you were about to find out.
Waiting patiently as students were sorted into their respective houses, each receiving a loud cheer, you inhaled deep breaths, and wiped your sweaty palms against the fabric of your robe.
“[Y/N] Winchester,” Professor Longbottom called, his features filling with understanding and compassion as your eyes widened nervously.
Taking a seat on the wooden stool, you gazed out at the curious students, each sitting at one of four long tables. You located Dean as he whispered into a giggling witch’s ear, before turning to Sam as he flashed you a reassuring smile, his friends appearing to listen eagerly.
Would you be joining Sam in Ravenclaw?
Would you be joining Dean in Gryffindor?
Would you become your family’s first Hufflepuff?
Or would you be making a name for yourself as a Slytherin?
Where might you go?
Gently setting the aged Sorting Hat on top of your head, Professor Longbottom slowly backed away, his interest peaked similar to that of the other individuals within the expansive hall.
“[Y/N] Winchester,” the Sorting Hat began, more in statement than in question. “Sibling of the Gryffindor, Dean Winchester, and the Ravenclaw, Sam Winchester.” Holding completely still, you gulped, listening to the hat as it spoke knowingly. “It seems that you are part of a family divided,” the worn hat commented with the slightest bit of humor. Folding your hands in your lap, you nodded your head, being careful not to displace the Sorting Hat from its place on your crown. “So? Will you plant your roots with Sam? Perhaps, Dean?” Blinking, you met Dean’s green eyes, his attention no longer on the witch; rather, he seemed to be completely enthralled with the Sorting Hat. “Or, will you be forced to carve your own path?”
“I…I…” you stuttered, quieting yourself as the entire room seemed to fall into total silence.
