#fogarpea

[swangsisendgame]

Fangs: are you a top or a bottom?

Sweet pea: no.. im a threat

Fangs: Pea.. we’ve been over this

[fxngsfxgarty]

though i am bruised

Inspired by a prompt from @alicethething

“You said something about swangs prompts? Bc idk bout you but I think there was plenty opportunity for some comfort after the ghoulfools dropped Fangs off a fucking stairwell :)”

Title from Cut My Lip by Twenty One Pilots.

Also available on AO3 here.

Fangs should be dead. He knows that much.

He would be dead, too, if not for his friends. For Jughead, who ran to catch him when Kurtz dropped him over the balcony, and for Sweet Pea, who was right at Jughead’s side. For the Serpents, the only ones he has left, the family he’ll have when Fogarty blood is spilled and drained and washed away, and he’s alone in the world again. No Serpent stands alone, no Serpent is left for dead. In unity, there is strength. All that’s left of all he knows lies with the two friends that remain.

Jughead is long gone now, picking up the pieces, chasing down assailants and probably exacting revenge on Fangs’ behalf. Sweet Pea, who bore the brunt of Fangs’ weight as he fell, is still here, though, lying still in the early evening light inside their tent - asleep, perhaps, or just keeping his eyes closed so Fangs can’t see he’s in pain. It could be either. Usually, Fangs would expect the latter, but these days, he’s not so sure of anything. But he needs to know, so he grits his teeth and rolls onto his side, wincing as his back kicks up another complaint, hot and sharp and stiffening by the minute. It could be worse, he reminds himself, it could be a broken neck, a damaged spine, paralysis. Even death.

“Pea.”

“Mm?” Sweet Pea opens his eyes almost immediately; he sounds sleepy, but not asleep, so Fangs doesn’t feel too bad about disturbing him.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you weren’t dead,” Fangs admits. “We’re good.” But instead of falling onto his back again, he carries on turning. In the small space inside the tent, he’s almost immediately resting against Sweet Pea, head on his chest, nose buried in a crease in the faded flannel he’s wearing. It smells like motor oil, and the lingering smoke from their nightly campfires. Soothing, almost. Fangs remembers how that same smell had enveloped him when he hit the hallway floor, and how he’d been convinced that that was heaven, just eternity of Sweet Pea Sweet Pea Sweet Pea, like sleeping curled close to him forever. And then his brain had caught up with his body and his body fucking hurt and the little dream was over.

He still hurts. Not like getting shot, but a different kind of hurt, a full-body feeling of something-is-wrong even when he doesn’t move. When he does move, he’s hit with an unpleasant reminder that he probably shouldn’t, that seeing a doctor or going to urgent care might be a good idea, but they don’t have that kind of money and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t get on a bike or in a car right now. He doesn’t remember getting back from school, but he thinks maybe somebody carried him to a borrowed backseat, and there’s a vague memory of Jughead and Sweet Pea lowering him down to his bedroll, and Sweet Pea’s face blurring in and out of focus above him as he layered his shivering body in blankets.

He’s still shaky now, not cold, just freaking out a little bit over the fact that, y’know, he’s had yet another brush with death. His best friend must notice, because there’s a slight shift in the warm body beneath him, and then Sweet Pea’s arms are firmly around him, one over his waist and the other slipped under his neck for support. Soothing fingers are brushing through his hair, and he shuts his eyes tight, hoping that’ll be enough to keep the hot tears at bay. He briefly hears a weird choking noise, and wonders what it might be, but before he can ask, Sweet Pea is gently shushing him.

“Don’t cry, Fangs, c’mon,” he murmurs, and Fangs realises the noises are muffled sobs and they’re coming from him.

“I don’t wanna die, man,” he forces out, trying to get closer to his friend even though they’re already pressed up so close in a tent barely meant for two. “I’m not a damn cat, I don’t got nine lives and I already used up two. Maybe three if you count halves, like initiation night, and the Poisons in Pop’s parking lot.” He still has butterfly stitches across his brow and the lingering headache from the night the girls ambushed them. There’ll be scars, mental if not physical. It’s crazy how things build up and up and up until it all comes crashing down around his ears.

“You’re not gonna die while I’m around,” Sweet Pea sighs, his hold on Fangs tightening just a little. “We’re still sworn to protect each other. I’m not gonna give up on you… Someday, you’re gonna be okay.”

That only makes Fangs cry harder, and for a few minutes, neither of them says another word. Fangs grips Sweet Pea’s shirt until his knuckles turn white, like he’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. Sweet Pea rubs circles into Fangs’ back, his touch light and caring; he knows Fangs’ pain goes far beyond the physical one, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to forget about it. He comforts him until his shoulders stop shuddering at every choking, badly-hidden sob, until he can feel hot tears soaking through his shirt, until Fangs is quiet and breathing almost evenly.

“I’m with you,” he says softly, so quietly Fangs isn’t quite sure he’s not imagining it. “I have been since we met, and I will be til the end. It’s more than oaths and laws when it comes to me and you.” Fangs nods. He’d protect any Serpent with knives and fists and curses, but Sweet Pea is all of that and more. 

The taller boy just keeps on talking. “You’re gonna be okay. This hurt, it’ll pass like all the others. You always come out on top. You’re the strongest person I ever met. If bullets can’t stop you, neither can some greasy, junkie freak with a god complex.”

Fangs exhales, almost a laugh, complete with a shaky smile as he nuzzles Sweet Pea. “Shut up,” he murmurs. “I’m not all you talk me up to me.” “Sure you are.” Sweet Pea shrugs the shoulder Fangs isn’t leaning on, so he doesn’t jostle him too much. “You’re incredible. You’re something else.”

Fangs pauses before speaking his mind. “You’re kinda all I got… You’re my everything. Love you.”

Sweet Pea presses a kiss to his forehead. Again, it’s so soft Fangs fancies that he’s imagining it, but he knows he’ll remember it in the morning regardless.

Outside, the rapidly-darkening evening bursts into a soft orange glow - someone’s lit the campfire.

“You wanna go outside?” Sweet Pea asks quietly.

Fangs shakes his head. “Don’t want them right now. Just wanna stay with you.”

He gazes up at the thin blue fabric of their tent, imagines the night sky beyond and the stars coming out like the way the firelight reflects in Sweet Pea’s eyes. He doesn’t need a fire to keep warm when he gets to drift to sleep in his embrace.

[godisaserpent-blog]

riverdale unsolved ft. fangs fogarty “the believer” & sweet pea “the skeptic” 

insp by this post from @fogarpea

[i-breath-for-mangas-and-jun-blog]

erm... excuse me?

where the f is sweet pea?

[cherylblxssom]

every single piece of riverdale fanfiction i ever read is so much better than the show's actual storyline it's ridiculous

[fogarpea]

#height difference

[honeykngdom]

SWEETLEE’S SERPENT SHIPMAS | 03/12

Tis the season, sisters! Welcome to day five of twelve of Sweetlee’s Serpent Shipmas! I am late again on two entries, so a total of three entries will be posted today (hopefully)! I sincerely apologize for the delay, I don’t really have an excuse because my muse is shit this week. This event will end Christmas Day, and I will be tagging posts with #serpentshipmas if anyone wants to blacklist the tag and not see the posts.

day three inspiration: decorating the tree song inspo: rockin’ around the christmas tree - brenda lee  ship: sweet pea x fangs fogarty

masterlist

Sweet Pea navigated through the snow banks carefully, anxiously glancing in the rearview mirror to ensure that Fogarty was still present and had the tree secure. The boys decided that taking the Ford to Pop’s to pick a tree was a tradition for the pair, although Fangs only really pushed for it so he could spend some time alone with his tiresome boyfriend. After an argument with Cheryl that lasted an hour too long, the two set out in their leather and jean to brave the cold in search for the perfect tree.

Thistlelhouse was on the outskirts of town, making the trip to and from town a little longer than they preferred. Once the winter season had rolled into Riverdale, Cheryl and Toni had insisted than the others come to stay with them until the warmer weather returned. Sweet Pea had been harder to convince, but the idea of his lover wrapped in forest green mulberry silk sheets quickly won him over. Living on the Southside, they never knew luxury, but in the few short weeks where they occupied one of the homes many rooms, the boys were certain this is what royalty lived like. It was silk sheets, breakfast in bed, and reading in the study next to the fire.

“You think it’s big enough?” Sweet Pea wondered as he secured the towering tree in place in the living room; Cheryl’s favourite part of every year was Christmas, and after going through a collection of photos featuring her previously festive decorations, the pressure to procure the perfect tree was on.

Fogarty fanned out the branches one by one, satisfied when it looked a little more full, then nodded once, “Should be just right. Why would we need anything bigger?”

Sweet Pea shot his boyfriend a pointed look from around the branches, threading the lights gently, “Do you remember who we’re talking about?”

The two shared a look before Fangs sighed petulantly, and began to drape the lights meticulously between the pine, “Well, I think it’s a nice tree,” he started, preoccupying himself with perfecting the light placement. “It’s the tallest they had, it’s not missing any branches, the top is pointed enough for the sta - what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Sweets questioned innocently, holding his mouth closed tightly around whatever he had shoved into his mouth. His brown orbs were wide and doe-eyed; his lips broke into a smile.

Unfortunately for Sweet Pea, his boyfriend knew him all too well. “Oh, for the love of god, please stop eating the popcorn! It’s for the tree!”

“But I’m hungry!” he whined in response, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

Fogarty threw an ornament at him, the pair of them cringing on impact as the glass shattered against the pretty linoleum floor. “We can make something to eat after, but the popcorn,” he stepped over an open box carefully, stealing the bowl from Sweet Pea’s hands, “Is for the tree. Not your belly.”

It wasn’t that Christmas was his least favourite holiday, it was just that every year served as a reminder of what he didn’t have; this year, he knew he had friends that could sympathize with being alone on Christmas. Family seemed scarce amongst his friend group, and while his heart ached for each of them equally, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of belonging. These were his people now.

Once the tree had been dressed from the top to the bottom and it had been pulled into place, Sweet Pea kneeled down just enough so help Fogarty hop up onto his shoulders; then, carefully, he rose to his feet, gripping his boyfriend’s thighs tightly to hold him steady, “You good?” he asked breathlessly, struggling to keep himself from swaying backwards.

“I’m not tall enough - get a little closer.”

“Closer?” Sweet Pea eyed the needles nervously. No, they probably wouldn’t hurt him, but he didn’t exactly want to be held responsible if they crashed into the tree and it fell over.

“Give me, like … another six inches.”

The taller Serpent couldn’t contain his smirk, “Oh, I’ll give you six inches.”

want a say in which ship features in tomorrows serpent shipmas drabble? send me an inbox with who you’d like to read about this holiday season! You have until 8 am EST to send me your ship for tomorrows prompt!

[tommyeatseaton-blog]

last night i had a dream and it was about swangs. so, fangs was a serpent and his father was someone pretty much important in the gang and kinda homophobic and there was sweet pea, he was in another gang whose name never appears in my dream so let's called them "not-the-ghoulies-bc-those-are-shits" and fangs came at sweet pea to be his fake boyfriend just to get on his father's nerves and sp agreed. and the boys ended up acting like a couple in front of everybody. and fp was somehow sweet pea dad and in the other gang too and he was pretty much against it because he knew about their little trick (idk how, i think he was a medium) but still kinda proud of his son. obviously they ended developing real feelings and live happily ever after.

it's time to say good bye and love jordan, drew and skeet a lot because they deserves the world