The fluorescent lights of Riverdale High's gym flickered with the type of energy you'd expect from a place hosting a full-blown blood donor drive. The clink of medical carts rolled along the hardwood, and the occasional whimper echoed from teenagers who were brave… until the needle came out.

Among the brave—or at least pretending to be—were Archie Andrews and his ragtag groomsmen: Jughead Jones, Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller, John B. Routledge, and Spencer James.

They had arrived with purpose. Not just to donate blood like good citizens, but to fulfill the strangest and possibly most chaotic element of their wedding preparations yet: the blood pact. Allegedly required (or at least vaguely implied) by Kim Petras' representative in an email filled with glitter GIFs and dramatic red font.

"I still don't get why we need a literal bag of blood," Kevin muttered, staring at the nurses prepping the donation chairs. "Is this a wedding or a Satanic TikTok trend?"

Reggie slapped his shoulder. "It's fine, Kev. You'll barely feel it. Just don't look at the needle."

"That's exactly what someone says before they traumatize you," Kevin groaned.

Spencer chuckled. "This is why the football team never let you near the locker room first-aid kit."

Jughead, already reclined in his chair, smirked under his beanie. "One bag of blood away from immortality or felony. We'll see."

The nurses moved quickly, sanitizing arms and tapping veins like they were tuning instruments. Archie rolled up his sleeve, glanced down at the looming needle, and took a deep breath.

"Okay boys," he said as the needle went in, "we're doing this. For the wedding. For Paris. For the Petras pact."

It was bizarre, borderline cultish, and definitely unsanctioned by any medical board—but somehow, it felt… epic.

A few chairs down, Cheryl Blossom—already midway through her donation—lifted her sunglasses and raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought the Blossom family was dramatic. You boys are bleeding for a concert."

Kevin peeked over his gauze. "Archie's orders. Kim Petras apparently requires chaos in the rider."

Spencer added, "It's for the visual, you know? One bag of blood. Just to say we did it."

"Then I officially endorse this," Cheryl said, smirking. "Paris won't know what hit it."

A few hours and multiple Capri Suns later, the bags were full, and the nurses were carefully removing the IVs. Archie wiped his brow and approached the nearest nurse.

"Hey, uh—can I keep these?" he gestured to the collected bags.

The nurse looked horrified. "You want to keep the blood?"

Archie nodded enthusiastically. "It's for the wedding. Paris. Kim Petras is performing. Something about a symbolic pact?"

The nurse blinked. "Sir. That is… wildly unorthodox."

Archie smiled charmingly. "We'll keep it sealed. No splatter. No crime scenes. Promise."

The nurse sighed. "If I let you walk out of here with those, you do not spill anything. Understood?"

"Scout's honor," Archie said, accepting the carefully packed cooler of human blood like he'd just been handed the wedding crown jewels.

Outside the gym, the guys regrouped near the steps, grinning at the absurdity.

"Mission: Blood Pact," Archie declared. "Complete."

"Just imagine TSA's face when we fly with this," John B. joked.

But the fun screeched to a halt when the doors burst open—and in marched them. The bridesmaids.

Veronica. Betty Cooper. Olivia Baker. Emily Cooper. Mindy Chen. All in coordinated pastel workout sets and expressions that ranged from unimpressed to lethal.

Veronica didn't slow down as she passed Archie and his crew. She flipped her hair with a vengeance and said, "You want to see narcissism, Archie? Buckle up."

Archie turned, confused. "Wait, are we doing this now?"

Veronica spun around, perfectly poised. "Oh, we are absolutely doing this now. You lied to me. You went behind my back. You booked Kim Petras and played me like I was some clueless little fiancée with no say in her own wedding."

"Veronica, people are around—"

"I don't care," she snapped. "Let Riverdale watch. Maybe they'll learn what not to do before their own weddings."

Betty crossed her arms. "Seriously, Archie? Why would you go behind her back?"

Archie raised his hands. "I just wanted to give our wedding something international. Exciting. I thought if I told her, she'd shut it down."

"She had a vision," Mindy said sharply. "This wedding means something to her. It's not about press. It's not a fashion week afterparty."

Archie's patience cracked. "That's all it is now—her vision. Her theme. Her dress. Her colors. I'm just the guy standing next to her in a tux."

Jughead stepped up. "Hey, back off, everyone. Archie's been working just as hard. He's trying to make this wedding global, not some snooze-fest with pastel hydrangeas and Riverdale root beer floats. It's Paris, not a sock hop."

Mindy turned on Jughead. "Wow. So respecting the bride's choices is a snooze-fest now?"

Veronica clapped once. "Perfect. Because guess what? You compared me to Winter Blanco from Bad Girls Club? Well, honey—Winter is coming."

Archie blinked. "Wait… what?"

"I DM'd her," Veronica announced, smiling with deadly precision. "She's flying in. She RSVP'd. She wants to see the narcissism in action."

Archie's jaw dropped. "You invited a professional chaos goblin to our wedding?"

"Yup," Veronica snapped. "And don't you dare try to cancel her. Like you didn't cancel Kim Petras."

Emily gently touched Veronica's arm. "Ronnie. It's okay. Just get it out. We're here."

Veronica took a deep breath. "I don't care if Kim Petras backflips down the aisle singing Heart to Break. I am marrying Archie. But the lying, the mockery, the disrespect—that ends now."

Archie looked at her—no anger, just regret. "I screwed up. I know. I just… wanted to add something special. I didn't mean to erase you."

Veronica's voice softened, but only a little. "Then start treating me like a partner. Not an audience."

The crowd around them—students, donors, nurses, even Cheryl sipping juice—stood in silence, watching a love story unravel and repair at once.

Cheryl nodded. "This wedding better be televised."

The blood pact was done. The confetti cannon was ordered. Kim Petras was coming. So was Winter Blanco.

Now, all that was left… was the wedding of a lifetime.

And God help Paris.