Jarchie Oneshots

||That's what girls get||

• Archie finding Jughead in a precarious situation with a teacher
• sexual assault (+ mentioned/referenced rape)
• trans!Jughead
• We're venting a bit here but whatever

Jughead saw all the red ink on his paper before Mr. Chipping even fully slid it over to him. Betty immediately tried to pry but he quickly pulled another paper on it to cover up. He didn't want to talk about it. He saw the grade within that one second anyways.

32%.

F.

He failed.

Up until then, he had never even gotten a C.

"Jughead" Betty whined, nudging him "Hey, come on, show me"

"No" He blocked her immediately, throwing his binder shut and turning his face. She made another three attempts before leaving him alone.

Around him, the classroom moved on. The lesson carried forth and Mr. Chipping went on about some historic topic Jughead couldn't listen to.

Wasn't able to.

Some chairs scraped back. Betty pressed a hand to his shoulder before getting up. He only noticed then that the lesson was over. His ears felt stuffed with cotton, his thoughts slowing.

With Betty gone, he slowly opened his binder to look at his test more clearly.

Thesis wrong.

Argument repeated.

Text unclear.

Did you even read the text?

Jughead's jaw tightened. He had read it. He always read it. Twice. Three times. He had stayed up late with the book splayed open on his chest, annotations crawling into his iris. He remembered thinking he had something — a weird sideways interpretation that actually felt like him.

Apparently, that had been a mistake.

He flipped back to the essay prompt.

"Mr. Jones," Mr. Chipping called and when he didn't react, there was a warm hand on his shoulder "I'll need to see you after school today, so we can discuss a... replacement for this essay. 8th period?"

He hummed hoarsely.

"Okay, good. We'll see us then"

Jughead dragged himself through the rest of school day. After finishing 7th period, he walked over to Mr. Chipping's office. His head still felt full of bees.

Failed.

He was never even close to failing.

"Mr. Chipping?" He asked with a soft knock on the door. A moment later, he opened the door to peek inside.

"Yes yes, come inside. Come" He nodded, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes, about your essay" Mr. Chipping said, taking a copy out of a manila folder that already looked too full. He didn't sit. He leaned against the edge of his desk instead, close enough that Jughead could smell coffee on his breath, something sour underneath.

Jughead stayed standing.

Until he was told to sit.

Mr. Chipping tapped the paper with one finger.

"This is... not like you" Jughead shrugged, eyes fixed somewhere over the man's shoulder.

"I thought it answered the prompt"