𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

The Wrong Side of the Tracks pt 2 | FP Jones

Authors Note: thanks for requesting a part two! Hope you like it!

Should I write a Riverdale story? If so who with??

Summary: you find refuge at Pop's after FP Jones rescues you from your broken-down car. Jughead joins you, surprised his father helped, and hints at the Jones family's complicated past. Unexpectedly, FP returns, concerned for your safety, and offers you his trailer for the night. Despite your hesitation, his kindness begins to shift your view of Riverdale—and of him.

___

Pop's was nearly empty, the late hour thinning the usual crowd of night owls and small-town gossipers. You slipped into a booth by the window, the vinyl seat cool against your legs. A familiar waitress poured you a mug of coffee without asking—Riverdale had a way of remembering people, even when you tried to go unnoticed.

You cradled the mug in your hands, staring out at the parking lot where FP's truck had been just moments ago. You didn't expect him to linger. That wasn't his style. Still, something in his voice, that careful concern, stuck with you.

"Rough night?"

You turned to see Jughead standing near your booth, his beanie pulled low over his curls. His eyes flicked to the empty seat across from you, silently asking.

"Yeah. Car died on the highway. Your dad picked me up."

Jughead raised an eyebrow, sliding into the seat across from you. "Seriously? Guess he's trying the whole Good Samaritan thing now."

You smirked. "He didn't have to stop. But he did."

Jughead looked down at your coffee, fingers drumming lightly on the table. "He's not a bad guy. Just... been through a lot. We both have."

You nodded slowly. There was something in the air tonight—an openness that didn't usually come with the Jones family. Maybe it was the lateness, the darkness. Maybe it was the way Riverdale always seemed to draw secrets to the surface when you least expected it.

The bell above the door jingled again, and you instinctively glanced up.

FP had returned.

He walked in with that same easy gait, scanning the diner until his eyes landed on you. Then on Jughead. He gave a small nod.

"Left my phone in the truck," he said, though it sounded like an excuse. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Didn't want to leave you out here alone."

"I'm okay," you said, offering a small smile. "Thanks again. Really."

FP looked at Jughead, then back at you. "You got someone to drive you home?"

You hesitated. "No. I figured I'd wait it out here. Call a tow in the morning."

FP nodded slowly, then slid a set of keys from his pocket and set them on the table.

"Stay at the trailer tonight. It's warmer than your car, and I'll make sure it's not some creep towing it in the morning."

Jughead blinked, clearly surprised. You were too.

You looked at the keys. Then up at him. "You don't even know me."

"I didn't know half the people I used to protect," FP said. "But I knew when someone needed a break."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded.

Maybe Riverdale wasn't all bad.

Maybe this place still had some good left in it—even if it showed up in unexpected ways, wearing leather and worry in equal measure.