omg Charles pov! And, if I can pull a second, Southisde bughead 👀
Oooo so the Southside Bughead is an art piece I am working on, in which the SHADING AND LIGHT DIRECTION IS PISSING ME RIGHT OFF so I have been putting it off until i can sit down for three whole hours and really get into it.
Eeeeeeee OKAY CHARLES! THIS STORY IS FOR YOU! It's my one and only bugabitha fic and it is written from the perspective the King half of my romantic OTP, Chicles. Charles is THE BEST BROTHER who JUST WANTS his baby brother and sister to be together happily forever.
In this story, Chicles cut a deal with the handsome dorito-eating devil Hiram Lodge to break them out of prison so that they can break up Betty and Archie (because Hiram can't stand the idea of Archie being with anyone other than him Veronica). Killing Archie is not an option because Hiram needs him for shirtless palladium mine promo vids, so Charles sets his sights on more important things: the bughead reunion.
(Also Chicles want to get married and have access to better hair products than the penal system allows, which, when you consider Chic's glorious hair, makes sense.)
It's cracky and unhinged, and filled with Chicles trying to wrangle Murder!Betty and SadSack!Jughead into a relationship via Tabitha, who, being a lit CEO, uses their influence to further her plan to get bughead together through her, creating the investigative throuple of our dreams!
read under the cut for a completely unhinged and unedited snippet!!!
Seven(?) years ago, Charles spent all that time killing the Stonies so that his precious siblings would be safe and free to pursue their love, but instead they broke up. They didn’t even thank him for what he did, which still cuts him to this day. He speaks about it with his psychologist and Chic, crying, “What do I have to do? Kill more people?”
(Despite what his psychologist insists, Charles knows that the answer to that question is a resounding yes.)
More recently he enlisted Juniper and Dagwood to dress up as aliens and run around the town, terrifying Jughead. Being a wonderful uncle, he gifted them drones hacked by some of his tech FBI friends to look like flying saucers, adding flood lights to them. The twins took to mischief with aplomb, being small enough to sneak into weird spaces like the bunker, through the open windows in Jughead’s rooms to freak him out.
(Charles thinks that the twins have been taking orders from Chic as well, because he has heard disturbed rumblings like Jughead waking up with no memory, so he figures the Blooper twins must be concussing his poor, sad sack baby brother on the regular.)
The aliens are, in his opinion, a masterful ploy to grab Jughead’s attention and provide him and Betty a mystery so that they would get horny and get back together. Everyone in the town knows that Betty and Jughead are sluts for mysteries, and aliens are exactly the kind of X-files nonsense that will reignite their passion in each other.
But, so far, the burn is too slow.
It’s okay, he reasons, because he will get them back together even if he murders all of Riverdale trying.
A bugabitha treat for @arsenicpanda and @elegant-force!
Summary: Tabitha is testing her superpowers. It's her first time traveling to the future. She finds a quite pleasant surprise. Canon Compliant. Enjoy!
Read below or on ao3.
Her nights, since the grand reveal of her superpowers, were bouts of sleepless time meandering. Always in close proximity to Pop’s, Tabitha had been the soul to her dead ancestors' bodies. Times were different but her folks had always been a force to be reckoned with, forging a legacy of inclusion and hard work. An idea, coupled with curiosity, was bouncing in her head. She’d been in the past, although pesky Percival didn’t give her the chance to catch her breath or admire the fashion and style of each epoch. The future though? She didn’t want to witness their own demise, see Percival victorious because he was gaining power in real time, hailed by the mindless masses and shouldered by Alice Smith. How about the near future? It could be interesting to anticipate Percival’s next moves. With that plan in mind, Tabitha lay on her boyfriend’s side of the bed, clutching his pillow, and inhaling the piney cologne on it. She closed her eyes and soon sweet sleep carried her through time.
She could feel her back being pressed to the wall, smooth hands roaming on her arms, kneading her hips with great care and passion. There were lips on her own, plump, wet, and peach flavored? Not her brand. She reasoned with him often to moisturize, but he was forgetful, or so he claimed to be. She registered that she was sitting on a surface, the counter of Pop’s, next to the coffee machine, she guessed, as her not-boyfriend was relishing the feel of her mouth, eliciting sweet moans from her. She instinctively was aware that whoever she was making out with was a short-haired woman with an interesting amount of boobage caressing her own chest, one that she didn’t dare open her eyes to recognize, because if this was a dream, a wet dream, the woman who’d fit perfectly between her arms, the only woman she’d kiss with ardor would be Betty.
Maybe instead of time traveling, she simply drifted to slumber. She was exhausted from the impossible mission that was saving Riverdale. Dreams starring Betty, Jughead, and sometimes both, were not exceptional. In fact, they were a nightly occurrence when she met them, her subconscious seemed to be overworked reconciling them and ravishing them at turns. She didn’t dwell on it. It didn’t have to mean anything, but the hopeful tug in her heart, whenever she’d see them interact, was confusing. She loved Jughead, deeply. He was enough. But she wondered, could she share? Would he be open to exploring whatever crush she harbored on his ex? He’d encourage her at his own expense. Hard feelings and a messed-up breakup had them resenting each other for almost seven years. Her mind and heart took the shortest detour to spend the sexual tension, through fantasies and dreams.
She willed the dream to take the intimate course she craved most, hopping off the counter, turning them around as her hands moved swiftly to shrug Betty’s coat off. Screw hygiene requirements, none of her strict rules prevailed in fantasy land. She was gaining a semblance of power over her secret lover, peppering kisses and sucking the sweet juncture of neck and shoulder, moving down where the offending material of her blouse obstructed Tabitha’s favorite sight. Betty was lenient at that point, holding onto Tabitha for dear life.
“Oh please, please…”
Her hushed pleas made Tabitha’s belly clench with want, the coil. She slowly unbuttoned the shirt, would have torn it, but preferred dragging on the anticipation, revealing the flushed skin, tender and warm under her lips.
“Always so gorgeous for me. Why couldn’t we have this in bed?” she whispered, throwing the garment on the floor.
Betty was growing impatient with Tabitha’s teasing as she pulled on her uniform.
“Take it off, I want to touch you too.”
Her tone was too urgent to be denied. Tabitha stepped away untying her apron, savoring the hungry look on Betty’s face. She was buzzing with excitement, giddy to be touched, and oh-so-eager to please. Her dress joined the pile, and she was sitting in mere instants on the closest stool with Betty kneeling between her legs, gaze holding hers while her mouth reveled in her core.
She didn’t know if she should blame it on her alarm or the cockblocking—was it the accurate word given her situation—nature of her psyche, but Betty’s phone blared through the diner, bringing their loving act to an abrupt halt.
She blinked a few times expecting to wake up, hot and bothered in her bed, unexcited by the cold shower she’d have to take to wash out her disappointment, but then none of that came into sight. She was still naked, flailing on that very same stool, watching Betty getting dressed hastily.
“Duty calls, lovely. I’ll make it up to you, tonight, I promise,” she said in a soft sultry tone, cupping Tabitha’s cheek, planting a long kiss on her lips before rushing out the door.
She lazed about there, waiting for the walls and vinyl booths to vanish because this specific dream had to end, by obligation. The wild subterfuge was meant to balance and not ruin her actual love life. Betty was a friend and should remain a friend. The calendar was glaring at her, hung on the wall, detaining evidence that she was about to lose him. She time traveled two months ahead, landing in a scenario where she cheated and enjoyed cheating on Jughead. And it wasn’t the first time, they were well acquainted with each other’s bodies. How cruel? She was reenacting the adult version of Betty's treason. It wasn’t a stupid, mindless kiss anymore, it was a well-planned affair. Maybe she had broken up with him. Her heart lurched at the thought of it. Improbable, yet she’d have to be sure. So she summoned her courage, dressed up before anyone came in and denounced her for public indecency, and checked her messages. He texted her last night, something about trying a homemade meal, concluding with an I love you.
An affair then. One that had been going behind his back, bypassing his mind-reading superpowers. How could she change radically in the span of two months? She prided herself on honesty and loyalty. She promised not to hurt him, he vowed to be perfect for her, for them. He’d been putting on work to clean his act always offering unwavering support and comfort. She’d asked him if he was being nice because he thought she owed him something. He shook his head smiling and kissed her instead. So Tabitha from the past was sent this time to mend a crisis that wasn’t caused by Percival’s machinations but by her own immorality. She’d read once that infidelity was so painful because of the scheming, the lies, the planning, fooling her beloved for moments of bodily pleasure. In her defense, she didn’t have him on the back stack when she was kissing Betty, she didn’t forget about him, she loved him still, intensely.
Maybe the cheating plot wasn’t a fixed point in time, she could change it but that’d be unethical? If future Tabitha had cheated on Jughead, she’d have to face the consequences of her mistake. She didn’t like the word. Betty wasn’t a mistake. He deserved the truth.
The day ground its hours in long agony as she refused to head home before dark, distracting herself with waiting customers and chatting with Pop. It weighed on her, the guilt and regret of not being honest about what she truly wanted, blindsiding him instead.
She fought tears on her way home and then lingered on their front door. She knew he’d come to her once he’d caught her buzzing thoughts nearing, so she diverted them from the cheating and focused on the burger she brought to him. Soon he was lured out of his occupation and opened the door for her.
He was always happy to see her and was happier when she had food on her. There was no need to prolong their misery. She kissed him one last time, before grabbing his hand and leading him to their couch.
He was looking at her perplexed and she knew he was blocking the mindreading and giving her time to select what she was about to say. But there wasn’t much selecting to do.
“I cheated on you with Betty,” she blurted out.
His face seemed to be relaxing, a smile dancing on the edge of his lips. The shock, she thought, he might have a nervous breakdown. He took her trembling hand in his, tracing small circles on her palm.
“I’m not sure ‘cheated’ is the right word, but that’s what a double shift does to a person,” he said in his calm one.
Not a breakdown, thank god. He hit the grief stages pretty fast. Denial.
“No, I cheated. That’s a fact. I’m so sorry. I wish I could say I didn’t mean to or blame it on some crazy lust spell,” she babbled tearfully.
He laughed, unable to contain it, engulfing her in a bear hug.
“Tabby, I don’t think you fucking our girlfriend qualifies as cheating. Well, not in my books.”
“Our girlfriend? Since when?” She asked, bewildered.
His amusement was instantly replaced with worry.
“Tabitha, are you alright? How long have you been feeling like this? Are you sick?” He said, palming her forehead.
“I will be good once you’ve explained this girlfriend thing.”
He did. She and Betty were brought together by the ongoing investigation. Their affinity culminated in an undeniable attraction. But they knew there was more to it, a missing piece that made them reluctant to embrace the feeling. Their strong friendship was a foundation, invigorating Betty to confess her crush. Double crush. Betty was nothing if not a risk-taker. They gathered, all three, and talked lengthily about the possibilities. Jughead was the first to name it. Polyamory. He liked words and she found that once pinned under a name, she had resources to read and exploit. It wasn’t some vague fantasy. There were people out there, like them, loving more than one person, facing challenges of their own. Their triangle wasn’t closed though. Jughead and Betty had seven years' worth of healing wounds that neither had been treating properly. They were taking things slowly and steadily, to make it last.
She hung on his every word, tearing up whenever his voice hitched a bit. She hugged him grateful for making this possible, loving her on bad days, for loving them.
The doorbell chimed in and she rose to answer it. It was Betty in her morning attire, nipping on her lip.
“Hi, gorgeous. Figured you’ve already had dinner, so I brought dessert.”
They kissed longly, walking past the doorway.
Jughead was standing patiently as his ladies parted away, pulling Betty into a searing kiss.
“Chocolate mousse for me. You’re the best. I’ll put them in the freezer.”
“I hope it’s mango mousse, Betty. I’m still waiting for my raincheck treat.”
She felt him hugging her from behind, planting kisses on her neck. Catching on his cue, Betty leaned in.
“Tabby here was really confused about us. Shall we have a first-round?”
They all squealed yes, waltzing messily towards the bedroom.
