Always & Forever | Bughead Oneshots

Constellations Out Of Scars

i think this is something they would (AND SHOULD) canonically do. enjoy!

TW: mention of self-harm, mention of abuse, mention of alcoholism

Song Credit: "cardigan" by Taylor Swift

NSFW-ish.

"What's that one from?" Betty mumbled curiously, her head laying on Jughead's shoulder as she pointed to a discovered mark on his other arm. "When, uh...when we were eight, Archie started falling out of this tree we were climbing and, uh, I went down with him," he chuckled.

The blonde smiled at the story, imagining it in her head as her fingertip traced over the faded mark. "That sounds like something he would do," she chuckled, feeling the Jones boy's hand brushing over her head before she was leaning over to kiss the scar.

They had been doing this for ten minutes.

Earlier, when Betty had slipped off Jughead's shirt in a moment of hasty lust, she noticed how he tensed up as she touched his back. She pulled away and asked what was wrong, at which point he only shook his head and laid down, easing her down with him as their lips met again.

"Jug, what's wrong with your back?" the Cooper girl had asked, concerned and sitting up slightly. "It's, um, nothing. It's nothing," he replied. "Jug," Betty replied, drawing out the sound of his name with a raised eyebrow.

Jughead sighed and sat up, hunched over as he'd never had too great of a posture. Curious, the blonde, on her knees, moved behind him and saw it; the long, discolored streaks of skin that went as high as the back of his neck and as low as the waistline of his jeans.

The scars looked old--like stained skin or forgotten welts. The latter--the Jones boy would go onto reveal--was right. "Juggie, what happened?" she asked, concerned with watery eyes as her fingers traced the lines without touching his skin.

"You know how my dad used to drink," Jughead replied and although his girlfriend had pieced it together already, he filled in the gaps; "He also used to swing his belt around."

"Jug, I'm so sorry," she sighed, moving to sit beside him. "They don't hurt anymore. I just...I didn't want you to see them. It's ugly," the raven-haired boy admitted, shaking his head slightly while looking down as Betty placed gentle hands on his shoulders.

"What happened to you is ugly, but you're not, and neither are those marks. You're so beautiful, baby," the blonde smiled with a tear slipping from her eye and her hand running beneath Jughead's chin before he was leaning in to kiss her again, and she accepted the gesture warmly.

After their clothes were discarded to the ground and each others' bodies were no longer on the receiving and giving ends of pleasure, the two cuddled up beneath sheets let afterglow coat their minds.

Betty, however, couldn't get those streaks out of her mind as they laid, limbs intertwined. "Jug?" the blonde asked, looking up at him with beady eyes as he looked over in response. "What is it, Betts?" he mumbled back, content with their current state.

"I wanna see...all the scars you have. Accidents, fights, clumsiness. I want to see what you've been through," she said, her palm running up and down his forearm--the same palm that had been revealed to him a week prior on his birthday in a booth at Pop's.

Betty found it only fitting, considering she had revealed her scars to him, that she would be a figure of warm acceptance for him in the same way he was to her. She trusted him to know that she had struggled with proper coping mechanisms and she wished he was ready to trust her, too.

So, Betty would point to a mark that she saw on him, and he'd tell her how he got it. Sometimes, she'd try to guess when it happened depending on how faded it was, but she would always seal each story with a kiss.

A kiss that said, "I accept this. I accept you."

"What about that one?" Betty asked, her finger tracing a large, circular bruise on the boy's arm. "Looks recent." "I, uh, was arm-wrestling Sweet Pea and when I won, he punched me," Jughead chuckled.

Betty looked at him, concerned, and Jughead addressed her worries along with a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "In good fun. Didn't even hurt." She placed a kiss on the bruise gently, keeping its freshness in mind.

When she looked up, she scanned over his face and allowed a scrape-like mark to catch her eye. "And this?" the Cooper girl inquired. "When my dad first started teaching me how to ride a motorcycle, I...fell. A lot."

They both chuckled as Betty kissed the mark before reaching her hand up to cup the side of his face, remarking, "Yeah, but now you're a pro," before directing his lips to hers.

"I wouldn't go that far," he replied, modestly. Betty chuckled, but her demeanor changed when she remembered the welts on her boyfriend's back. "Did you mean it? When you said...the streaks don't hurt anymore?"

"Yeah. Usually, they stopped hurting after a day or two. And considering it's been years," Jughead cut himself off, his arm drawing his girlfriend closer. "Why?" Betty only shrugged, not really having an answer.

"What about you? How're your palms doing?" Jughead asked, nudging his head a bit as a gesture that said, "Let me see." She turned her palm to face him, remarking, "They-They're good."

The Jones boy was relieved to see the bruises forming around the crescents--it meant they were old. "When was the last time?" "Your party," Betty admitted with a slight nod. "I've been trying to be better."

"Oh, you have been, baby," Jughead praised gently, pulling her into his embrace with both arms and kissing the top of her head. "And I'm glad we can do this. That we can...be this honest and trusting with each other."

"Me too, Jug," Betty replied with closed eyes and a yawn. Jughead fixed the blankets around them before closing his eyes and letting silence overtake the two until the blonde spoke up only a few minutes later.

"Jug?" she called out softly. "Yeah, Betts?" he replied, eyes still closed. "One day, I'm gonna kiss every one of those marks on your back," she answered.

And with that simple notion, something beautiful was being created out of something coarse.