200 Writing Prompts:"15 and 42 with Jughead please!!!!" --Anonymous

Listen To: "6-inch", Beyoncé

"You're making me... what?" You said slowly through gritted teeth.

"You know FP is our superior," Xavier explained, methodically measuring packets of marijuana. "And as your superior, it's our job to protect his kid."

You glared at your "co-worker". You'd been in the Serpents for how many years now at such a young age, and they were putting you on babysitting duty? As one of the few female Serpents, a Viper as they were called, it's like they always made you take a back seat to the big boys.

"Oh don't get all hot and bothered with me," Xavier teased. "FP's a high up man. You do this job well, this could be your chance to prove yourself, join the inner circle."

A devious grin grew on your face. Teach some boy about the Serpents. Let him have some fun. You could smell that promotion already.

"First rule is don't say anything while we're on a job unless I tell you to," You explained, leading Jughead quickly through one of the ramshackle store houses to pick up the supply for the night. "I don't need your mouth getting us killed."

"Got it, boss," Jughead said with a grin, following you closely.

You wheeled back on him, eyeing his wool beanie imperiously as you snapped your gum. "And lose the hat. They can smell the north side right on you."

"Got it, boss," Jughead repeated cheekily. He pulled off his beanie, revealing his thick and disheveled dark hair.

You swallowed, turning to hide the blush that had appeared. You hated him already.

One night of "training" a few weeks in, Jughead had shown up to your house unusually late. He seemed exceedingly preoccupied. You had intended to mind your own business, but when you could tell he wasn't listening to a word of your teachings it hit a sore spot.

"Hey, Jughead, what happened?" You asked.

"It's nothing," Jughead insisted, rubbing his somewhat swollen eyes.

"Jughead," you warned. "We're a team. We need to be on the same page."

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Betty kissed Archie."

You quirked an eyebrow. What kind of name is Archie? "And these people are...?"

"Betty is, or I guess, was, my girlfriend from the north side," Jughead explained, voice shaking. "Except she always had a thing for my best friend, or I guess, ex-best friend, Archie. He never had feelings for her that he let on, so she went out with me." His fist clenched on the table, knuckles white. "I guess he was just waiting for the time to strike."

You frowned sympathetically. "That sounds rough." You mentally went through your job list. "Look, we don't have to go out tonight. A lot of our poorer clients are still waiting for pay day anyways."

Opening the fridge, you pulled out a cold can of beer and slid it to him across the table.

"Looks like you need a drink, bad," you joked. You sat next to him. Attempting some vestige of human kindness, you patted his clenched hand.

You saw a tear slip from the young serpent's eye. "I... I need a hug," Jughead said, voice cracking. In that moment, you remembered that Jughead wasn't just the son of a drug lord who was taking on the family business. He was a teenager, like her. He had midterms, and girlfriends, and worries about the world. Worries that didn't involve being a Serpent.

You mimicked what your mother had once done for you, pulling Jughead's head onto your shoulder and stroking his back slowly. Your leather jackets rubbed together uncomfortably, but you could feel the heat radiating from his tensed body.

"Relationships come and go, Jughead," you whispered into his hair. "But the Serpents... that kind of bond is forever."

"You should come back to school, (Y/N)," Jughead said suddenly.

You tensed. You'd dropped out of school a few months ago to focus on your work in the Serpents. "Why?"

Jughead pulled away. "You have so much potential, (Y/N). You're good at reading situations, analyzing mechanisms, crunching numbers." He smiled. "You're way smarter than a lot of meatheads I've met at Riverdale High. It's a good school. We could try and transfer together."

You laughed, amused by his dreams. "And go to school with two-faced ex-best friends and psycho ex-girlfriends? I'll stick to the drug trade, thank you."

The two of you continued to joke and share beers the rest of the night. And you began to learn that Jughead was actually pretty all right. Maybe you didn't hate him so much after all.

"I can't believe you, Xavier!" You yelled so loud the walls of the storehouse reverberated. "You told FP you've been watching Jughead this whole time?"

Xavier polished is new brass knuckles, a symbol of his promoted status. "Oh come on, you think his daddy dearest knows about what's going on outside the walls of that prison? You slept on a great opportunity and I took it." He smirked, towering over her. "Finder's keepers."

You were seething. Your clenched fists shook with anger, and your face was flushed. You threatened to cry tears of frustration, but wouldn't dare.

You should have known. Xavier was an outsider who begged to join the nest. He was hungry for power since the start, and didn't care about who he had to step on to get it.

"That's dishonest," you insisted. "That isn't what this brotherhood is about."

Xavier snorted. "What would a girl know about brotherhood?"

Wordlessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed towards the door.

"And where do you think you're going?"

You wheeled back on him. "I'm going to the prison to tell FP, and I'm bringing Jughead with me so he believes me. When he finds out, you're a dead snake." Your eyes narrowed.

"You'd better not, or else!" Xavier warned, voice starting to shake.

"Or else what?" You crossed your arms.

Impulsively grabbing the handgun on the table, he disabled the safety and shot you in the gut. You toppled to the ground, staring up at him in disbelief.

"Or else you're dead," he replied coldly. He stood up and left the room, taking the gun with him.

Hand shaking, you pulled out your phone and dialed the number of, apparently, the only person you could trust nowadays.

"J-jughead?" You whispered, side aching. "Call 911."

Jughead rushed to the storehouse as soon as he heard.

"Oh my God," He cried out, pulling you up into his lap and helping you apply pressure to the wound. His hands were shaking and tears started to fall. "Don't die on me–please."

You smiled up at Jughead through the pain, the softest smile you've ever given him. "You're a writer, right? Tell me a story."

Jughead told you everything. About his deadbeat dad, his precocious younger sister, his cold mother. He told you about his friends: Archie, Betty, and Veronica. He told you about Jason Blossom. He told you all of this, voice shaking and tears falling, stroking your hair with one hand and applying pressure to the wound with the other. With no car, there was no choice but to wait for an ambulance and pray that you would make it through it. He'd taken off his Serpent jacket, draping it over you to provide warmth in the derelict storehouse.

Jughead's heart was finally able to start beating again when he heard stomping through the hallway. "Paramedic!" Voices called out. Transferring you to a gurney, they hauled you into an ambulance with Jughead riding alongside.

You smirked at him. "I can't believe you cried."

He quirked an eyebrow, wiping away residual tears. "I can't believe you got yourself shot." He took your hand, squeezing it to provide comfort from your pain.

"Fair enough," you conceded. "...hey Jughead?"

"Yeah?"

"High school actually doesn't sound so bad."