Another collab w/ my love, @veronicassadboi For Jeronica Spring Fling Week. Prompt: green.  Little bit of NSFW at the end, so under. 18 babes, don’t read that obvs. Â
Veronica can’t ignore all the pretty promises when he has her against the wall of the girls bathrooms.
Jughead’s hands are around her neck and he’s kissing his way across her collarbone, tongue trailing behind him and the zipper of his jeans drags across her stockings, causing runs. “Give me one weekend, Princess,” he begs her, hand now between her thighs.
“You want me to lie to Archie?” she whispers as her hips slam against his.
Jughead laughs maliciously - the same laugh that scares her. The same one that makes her give her entire soul to him. “Princess,” he says, straightening his Serpents jacket across his shoulders, reaching down to adjust her skirt around her hips. Leaning in for that one kiss that tells her he’s sweeter than he’ll ever let her know. “I want you tell him you’re mine.”
She knows he’s lying. Jughead loves Archie more than he loves himself.
But Jughead loves Veronica more than that. He loves her so much, he can barely breathe.
And that scares the both of them.
XXXXX
When Jughead smiles at her, she knows this is the right thing to do. He’s long limbs leaning against his bike and the idea of riding with him makes her feel like she’s invincible. The ride out to her parents cabin was more than amazing - it was as if it was something she was born to do.
Like she was born to be by his side.
Today, Jughead isn’t sharp words and desperate kisses that try to tell her everything he feels without having to voice it. Sometimes she wonders if saying the words out loud scare him - she understands.
He doesn’t want to say he’s doing wrong by Betty anymore than she wants to feel that guilt that he always talks about pulsing through her when she’s in Archie’s arms.
“It’s moments like these,” he announces from wooden decking, “That make me remember that we’re all a little more than what we think we are…”
She’s not sure what he means, but the greens and blues that surround them with air that whips their faces and reddens their lips makes her feel a little more alive than usual. Jughead does that to her.
His hands fit so perfectly in the dips of her waist. When he kisses her against the backdrop of rotting trees, she feels like everything is worth it.
He loves her, he promises her that everyday.
But being alone with him, with the smell of damp leaves and a breaking heart, she wishes that she could promise him that she’ll run away.
But New York seems so far away when you’re scared.
XXXX
It’s a conversation that they never like having, but it’s inevitable when the guilt eats at them. “Do you feel bad about what we’re doing?”
Jughead looks at Veronica from over the top of a coffee cup. “V,” he starts. “I always feel bad. It’s just part of me.”
He’s always so poetic, and even the badness in the words and the ugliness of the truth, his words make her feel not so bad. Because she gets it. She feels it too. “I know what you mean.”
Jughead shrugs, licking his teeth. “Just because we feel bad, doesn’t mean we’re bad people.” She doesn’t believe that part. “I love Archie like he’s my brother. I love what used to be Betty. But I love you the most.”
Veronica smiles to herself. She rests her head on his shoulder. “How did we even get here?”
Jughead smiles weakly. “You tell me, Princess. You’re the one who’s pulling me through hell and back.”
Veronica met a boy with dark rings around his eyes and a sadness in his bones when she was only fifteen. But she chose the one with happiness in his smile and brightness in his heart.
Because why would someone who’s lost pick someone who seemed just as equally lost?
She hates the prettiness of it, but maybe they needed to find each other to stop being so lost.
She prefers it when Jughead explains it; he’s always been so good at convincing her that they’re doing the right thing.
XXXXX
She fucks him hard and fast with her hands pressed down on his chest, keeping him down and even when they reach that peak together, he swears that he loves her. She scratches her name into his chest just as he moans it against her lips. She believes him more than ever.
He makes love to her soft and tender, with small kisses on the insides of her elbows where he can feel her pulse against overbitten red and he whispers just how beautiful she is on her temples. He’s running between her thighs when he tells her he doesn’t care how many people he hurts when they run away together - you don’t choose who to love.
There are broken branches that smack against the window of the cabin and his littered cigarette butts that burn out on green and yellow leaves that tell Veronica the story of Jughead’s desperation. And it’s desperation for her. Three cigarettes in a row tell her without words that he wants her all to himself even if it hurts everyone around them. Three kisses in a row with his lips on hers and his fingers on her waist tell her without words that she’s all her cares about.
