*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ( juggy ) ;
mary jane
❛ Remember when I used to be on rotation and Wednesdays were the day I’d take you out? ❜
Jughead had a hand resting on the headlight of his motorcycle, giving a playful grin at the ginger who walked up to him. It had been months since he was first told it was his duty to take MJ across the town line into Greendale. Then, he’d been on rotation, trying to piece in time to take her out amongst all of the drama happening on the Northside. But he was never, ever late nor did he ever forget, because secretly the time he got to spend with her was time he’d never take for granted. Now, though, whenever she had a shift he was waiting and ready.
In fact he loved it. Getting outside of Riverdale even if only for a night (at the time) was an escape he wholeheartedly accepted. A place he could spend all night writing and bouncing ideas off of her, or practice out new insults on the boys she flirted with. They all looked like John Travolta in the good ol’ days; which is to say absolutely hideous. It was more than that, though. It was the feeling of being lighthearted and happy for a change, because Jughead was easily susceptible to dramatic and long-winded cries for help. Funny how the one thing he always prided himself in was needing no one but now it was something he saw as a weakness.
❛ And you owe me, because that blonde haired doofus you were going to see showed up late, didn’t he? ❜
Jughead grinned. He did this all of the time - playing pretend bets with MJ even if she didn’t play along, always coming up with some kind of excuse to earn a free milkshake or cherry cola. It was fun and it was reason for him to get a little flirty, a little playful.
My, my, how the sunshine looked on one Jughead Jones the Third.
‘twas the cruel twist of fate. that day, that moment, her arrangements that could shatter the illusion she had built so painstakingly around her, all could come crashing down to be no more than shards of rubble & carefully woven lies unraveled. her persona, her role, those were what mattered in this town. the mary jane watson, life of the party, the new girl everyone wanted to be, carefree. not the girl from a broken home, the tragic backstory that haunts her, the one she desperately tries to conceal beneath the dirt, six feet below with her mother. kill it. burn it. bury it. that would not be her life, it would not govern her existence. no, no, no. because if she’d stop, if she’d pause to reminisce, the tears that would seep from emerald irises would drown this quaint little town, sending sweetwater river bursting from its banks to swallow the inhabitants whole.
dread rose to the surface, that perfectly crafted mask of blush & glittered gloss cracking as jughead jones waited to serve as her chariot. her deal with the serpents, the dredges of riverdale society sunk its fangs deep into her flesh to poison & destroy. under the guise of endless parties, mary jane truly used the serpents to cross town lines to work in a diner far from the crowd she surrounded herself with. with pleading & many free burgers & milkshakes, it became their little secret, lips sealed, leaving the redhead to find solace in his company, in the scent of his hair as she nestled close to him on the back of that motorcycle. he was always there. always present with sarcasm and lop - sided smile.
❛ —- & you promised, pinky promised, actually, not to speak a word about that. ❜ tucking a fiery strand behind a pale ear, eyes roll skyward as he mentions her latest paramour that bit the dust. it’s difficult to find airheaded jocks with chiseled abs so enticing now when he has invaded every crevice of her thoughts. ❛ what flavour milkshake are you jonesin’ for this time, juggy ? ❜ she inquires playfully, nudging him off - balance as she struts past, snatching the helmet that dangled from the back of the bike’s seat.