Joe Eisma aka Supajoe who drew the recently released Riverdale #1 Tie In comic offered a digital drawing to all those who copped the two cover issues of the comic! And he awesomely and generously did one for me, a drawing of Angsty Jughead from Riverdale! <33 If you haven’t gotten an issue yet, I highly recommend you to do so! You’ll get to see - in the words of Jughead himself - #HOTBETTY as she walks the school hallways in her River Vixen outfit, looking like a Miss Betty Bombshell.
ok here’s the next part. I kinda changed up the pov a bit (more on betty now) but I think I might just keep alternating. so, I made betty kind of a mechanic-ish?? also, I am aware that the Andrew’s company is not a repair shop, but I changed it up for the story’s sake. idk how y’all feel about that I was a bit nervous to throw that in there, but I also kind of like the idea of it?? it’s all going out on a limb so I’m sorry if it’s not that great. I kind of rushed it to get it out there to y’all who are reading it (which I’m super siked about btw I still can’t believe people are reading this). anyways! feedback is greatly appreciated, especially criticism! love y’all!
Betty shrugged out of her denim jacket hurriedly, screwing her eyes shut tight as her mother continued to berate her over her choice in style. The woman continued to nag on and on, dragging the unimportant point to a dead fault. By the time she finished speaking, Betty was already out the door. With a deep inhale, the blonde tilted her gaze skywards, seeking comfort in anything that wasn’t Alice Cooper. The sky had taken a turn for the worse, instead of darkening to the point of weighted cumulonimbus clouds ready to spill over, they broke away to allow sunlight to filter through. It was a slow leak at first, but then relented onto a full fledged flood of light, voluminous and all-consuming. Suddenly, all of the cloud cover had completely disappeared. It was only a matter of time before Betty was sweating bullets and had to relieve herself of the nuisance that was her sweater - even that flimsy thing was too much fabric for her to stand.
Although Betty had only been in the house for a nearly three minutes, her mother still prevailed to attack the teen with questions on her whereabouts and fashion decisions within such a short time frame. It didn’t matter that Betty was her own person and could make her own choices or that she had her own life, Alice had the mindset that she controlled everything and everyone around her. Betty just wanted to do something bad, something no one would expect from Betty ‘Goody Two Shoes’ Cooper. She wanted to scare the living daylights out of her mom, prove she’s her own person - that she is capable of deciding her future. Her father, on the other hand, was the opposite, he gave little to no shits over what happened in Betty’s life, surrendering to his wife and allowing her to make all the calls. There was no one left to stand up for Betty, besides Betty, ever since Polly moved away with her baby.
Betty huffed down the sidewalk, hopping into her jacked up red Camaro that she managed to stitch together with some spare parts of Frank’s. It had a bunch of random inside pieces from other cars, Toyota, Ford, you name it. The shell was original though, a 1977 Camaro. That had been the only way for her to get her own car, to piece it together herself. So, that’s what she did. It wasn’t that different from writing an article. There were separate pieces to it, like a puzzle. The title, heading, body, and so on. She had asked Frank and Archie for a hand (which was pretty difficult considering her stubbornness), and that was that. It had taken a long while, probably two and a half months of long nights and grease stains that never ever came out. Still, the mission was accomplished, leaving her with a lousy hunk of junk. Yet, the thing still ran, although Betty had the sensation that one of those days, the front was just going to cave in and the car’s guts would just spill across the street - engine and all. However, that had yet to occur, so Betty hopped in the driver’s seat and jacked up the engine, making sure to rev it up a few times simply to annoy the hell out of her uptight mom, before skirting down the street and out of sight.
As Betty arrived at the Andrew’s Automobile Repair Company shortly after coaxing her mighty steed to life, Archie stepped outside the building to greet her, his greasy wife beater clinging to his muscles like a second skin. Betty paid it no mind as she parked her rusty car, laughing as it sputtered back to sleep, practically groaning with annoyance that it even had to wake up to begin with. Betty leaped out of her car, handing Archie a grin, before taking a gander at the scene around her. There were a couple of cars in the hangar, waiting to have surgery just like Betty’s own car had recently - an oil change.
“What do we got today?” Betty questioned, crossing her arms over her grey tank top which was tucked into her jeans.
“Another oil change, and a new engine transplant,” Archie gushed, obviously happy to have something to do around here for once.
It could get quite desolate at the repair shop, especially considering they were in Riverdale, where there weren’t even that many residents, and those who did live there most likely didn’t have a car since everyone walked everywhere. Betty only spent a few lazy summer afternoons at the repair shop - mostly when she needed a break of writing, of her mother’s constant fussing, and really just her own mind. Betty had the tendency to lock her own mind up, bottling her emotions inside instead of letting them out. But there were occasions when everything just built up - like a boiling pot that kept overflowing unless you turned the heat off, but there’s an endless stock of fuel, so she just kept burning and the water kept overflowing. The solution seemed to be sinking her nails into the tender flesh on her palms, allowing the pain to wash over and block out the anger. Those situations were sparse and rare, but they did happen.
Betty entered the hangar, the open space and cool shade very inviting as the sun began to get higher and higher overhead. She gave a curt greeting to Frank, who was already tinkering with the engine on the Toyota. She offered him a wave and a dimple, nothing more, before situating the navy bandana atop her ponytail clad head and getting to work. Archie gave helped her out with the oil change, but it was pretty simple since she had done one before, and Archie was pretty piggy and stole most of the actual knitty gritty part. Still, Betty enjoyed aiding the pair, especially since it was their own family company and had been for years. It felt nice helping out one of the locals.
Usually when Betty worked, she would try to completely block out the constant buzzing of her brain, and eventually, it just started to come naturally. But as Betty was fiddling with numerous car bits, her mind continued to train back to the memory of the crowned boy who stole her cherry earlier that day. She couldn’t fight the silly grin that surfaced on her face at the stupidity of it all, he literally stole her cherry, but not in the way most would take it. At that thought, Betty’s mind of course pursuited that train of thought whether she wanted to or not, and the painfully obvious question appeared. Would she let him steal her cherry? A blush followed close behind, a very odd thing from Betty, something she hardly ever does - it’s about as common as a UFO. The answer was most definite - a no, but an otherworldly feeling was stuck in her gut even after deciding that. Still, the attractive Serpent wouldn’t leave her head, sticking annoyingly in the creases of her brain like peanut butter on the roof of her mouth that she just couldn’t scrape off. It was something about the way he held himself, so fatigued and broken, yet his confident words had betrayed his stance. It was like his body and mind were at war, each yearning for different things. Betty had never experienced someone like him before.
As if on cue, a loud sound similar to a gunshot followed by a thunder-like rumble jolted the blonde out of her clashing thoughts. She poked her head out of the mangled metal underside of the car, rolling out from beneath it and pushing herself into an upright position to see what was making such a ruckus. Betty knew instantly who it was, she didn’t even have to see his face or hear his voice, his frame said enough. It wasn’t like he was bending over, or hunchbacked, or anything like that. It was a tiny, nonexistent thing, only revealed in the way he walked, the way that his slate grey eyes were always shifting, the way that he made himself appear somehow smaller without even moving. It was as if he himself wished to become invisible, and that was what intrigued Betty the most. It was the Cherry Boy himself, and he was making quite an entrance.
His motorcycle seemed to have broken down just as he showed up, making it right on time. But, he made quite a show of rolling the beast up to the hangar, pushing and heaving this way and that, acting as if the thing was a thousand pounds. Betty acted before thinking, turning her brain off without hesitation at the sight of him. She jumped to her feet and crossed the distance to him, her arms crossed in a sassy way. Jughead gaped, and was suddenly glad that he had his helmet on. He couldn’t believe that she was here, of all places. This was the last place he thought she would be, but hell, was he happy to see her. He figured she recognized him by the way she stared him down, gaze full of uncertainty and a hint of smugness. She should be proud, his friends would never let him live down after what happened, probably not for years. Jughead removed his helmet, resting it on the handlebars.
“What are you doing here, Cherry Boy?” Betty queried, eyeing his beat up bike, which certainly looked like it had seen better days.
Jughead shifted under her fiery green gaze at the specific nickname, then scolded himself for it. He shouldn’t show her weakness, especially since the bet was still on. He tugged on his leather jacket a bit, meeting her gaze with his own, his signature cocky smirk tugging on the corners of his lips, lifting them at the ends ever so slightly. If only he knew Betty was practically melting at the seams, he would be one giddy Juggie.
“Well, my bike kinda broke down. I figured I would take it to the repair shop,” Jughead proclaimed coolly, taking a panicky gander at the place, eyes darting this way and that just to add to his little skit. “Wait, don’t tell me this isn’t the car fixer upper.”
Betty rolled her eyes so hard she’s pretty sure they hit the back of her head, she was almost scared they wouldn’t come back to the front. The sarcasm in his words was practically tangible, and all Betty could do was snort at his dry sense of humor. She grabbed one of the handlebars, sensing Archie and Frank’s suspicious gazes on them. They didn’t like having a Serpent on their territory, and it showed in the way their eyes flirted back and forth like a bird stuck in a cage. They were frantically worried that Jughead would try to pull something, but he simply stood with his bike. Sill, distrust hung in the air so thick Jughead was sure he could pick out the vile scent of it.
“Come on, Cherry Boy. Let’s get this thing to ‘the car fixer upper’,” Betty quipped with a little grin, one Jughead secretly cherished.
They wheeled the heavy vehicle into one of the open spaces in the airy hangar. Frank took a pause from working on the engine and instead took a look at Jughead’s motorcycle. It turned out he only needed to get an oil change, one of the easiest things to accomplish on an automobile. Jughead simply shrugged and wore that stupid, toothy smile that Betty was ashamed to say she was familiar with by now. Frank asked Betty to take it over while he finished up on the engine, promising that Archie could handle the other oil change by himself. Archie gave his own reassurance, which Betty responded to with an eye roll and an ‘uh-huh.’ She was just waiting for him to mess it up.
So, Betty repaired Jughead’s motorcycle, which didn’t take long, since it was only a quick oil change. They kept up a small banter as she tinkered, something which both of them enjoyed far more than they would rather admit.
“You know, this whole thing could have been avoided if you had checked your gauge, Cherry Boy,” Betty asserted snarkily, glancing at the dark haired teen with a cheeky grin.
“Too bad that broke a week ago, huh? Anyways, ‘Cherry Boy’ is not my name, at least, last time I checked,” Jughead cross-examined as he leaned against the wall, watching Betty fiddle with the black bike.
Betty perked up a bit, taking a break to look Jughead in the eyes. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s Jughead.”
A fit of snorting laughter caused Jughead to bolt upright, scaring the shit out of him. He stared at Betty as if she sprouted another head on the spot, but she didn’t care, cackling like there was no tomorrow.
Once she caught her breath, she wheezed through a watery gaze, “You can’t be serious.”
“Very,” Jughead stated.
“Oh, boy. I still think Cherry Boy is better.”
“Not very creative,” Jughead mumbled, pouting a bit.
“I’m not known for creativity,” Betty commented, delving back into the innards of Jughead’s ride.
She was nearly done, leaving a hollow feeling in her stomach - empty and foreboding. She was trying to place a finger on that sensation, when it hit her - she didn’t want Jughead to leave. Betty shoved that realization aside, pushing herself to her feet as she wrapped it up, placing the tools she used back where they belong. Jughead also regained his composure, standing a bit straighter, looking like he was waiting for something.
“It’s all done. I would say good as new, but it’s not that great, and I don’t think it was when it was new either,” Betty joked, smiling at her own humor.
Jughead smiled too, but this one seemed a bit different. It was the same brand, just a different variation - like the original picture, but with just a different filter. This one was a bit sweeter, more genuine. The realness of it stole Betty’s breath, and she had to swallow before she trusted herself to speak again.
“You know, not to be rude, but I kinda need some money,” Betty pointed out abruptly, causing Jughead to raise his eyebrows at her blatancy.
He did as he was told, handing her the cash, but not before their fingers brushed and an electric current sparked along their spines. Betty reeled backwards, but Jughead lingered in front of her. In slow motion, his hand reached up to her face. He began to close the distance between them. Betty was lost in his gaze - the same color as a thunderstorm, one of her favorite things. And for a bittersweet moment, Betty thought he was going to kiss her (and, oh, how he wanted to). And the worst thing about that wasn’t that he didn’t do it, it was that she leaned in. Instead, he swiped his thumb across her cheek, his spectral gaze fixating on the smudge resting upon her flushed cheek. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, he backed away.
“Sorry, you had something on your cheek,” Jughead explained, grabbing his helmet and mounting his bike.
He looked as if he was going to leave, preparing for takeoff, but he hesitated at the last moment, as if fighting something off, but failing in the end. He turned around, looking over his shoulder to meet Betty’s gaze. She was staring, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t look away. He gave her that goddamned smile, lopsided, charming, all teeth, the one only he could pull off. Then, he winked.
Set in the same universe as the hit CW series, the new ongoing RIVERDALE comic continues to reveal untold stories of the world’s most famous teenagers!
When five students from different social cliques (Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, and Josie) end up in Saturday detention together—will they kill each other or come together against the forces of evil that brought them there?
Once, Veronica Lodge was the Princess of Riverdale, flowers strewn at her feet everywhere she walked. Now she’s a just regular student at a private school full of Mean Girls who’ve made her their Betty, led by their Queen Bee, the alluring and diabolical Cheryl Blossom.