.
.
Riverdale has proven itself to be cursed. That's all there is to it.
The funeral went on from the early morning hours until dusk. By then, Jughead pulls on his steel-toed boots, worn and scuffed, changing into a pigment green button-up and a black, woolen trenchcoat, wrapping the beige-and-dark red colored scarf from Veronica around his throat. He never feels cold anymore, but appearances… they need to be kept up. For his sake. For everyone's sake.
He slips on a pair of aviator sunglasses, curling his upper lip at the harsh glare of sunlight. As if punishing him. That's fine. Jughead figures he probably deserves it.
The dreary, paled-out skies above the cemetery has a tinge of scarlet, and Jughead walks among the headstones and fog. Melting snow crunches under his feet. Cheryl and Betty don't pay any attention to him, weeping and comforting each other, leaving to join a somber Mr. Andrews by the limousine.
Veronica stands by herself in her velvet, black tie-neck keyhole dress, with the long peasant sleeves and an A-line coat sewn with an oversized collar and button-front, flared hem.
She twirls a parasol, black and weighing heavy with layered satin and lace, between her silk, white gloved fingers, gazing down at the fresh burial dirt of their classmate's grave. Jughead watches her flat expression with mild interest, running his fingers through his dark, handsomely tousled curls.
"Poor Archiekins…"
Veronica's whisper sounds so hollow, perfunctory. A thin line of watery-scarlet fluid slips out into the open, from her eye, drizzling down her cheek. She immediately wipes it out of existence.
"Yeah," Jughead murmurs, reaching up to jam a finger in his mouth and pick at his teeth. He can still taste a bit of curdling, rotted flesh trapped somewhere against his gums. Electric toothbrushes apparently can't work worth a damn for sharper and more packed-together rows of teeth.
"Really, Jughead?" Veronica eyes him over her sunglasses in disapproval. "At his grave?"
Jughead puts up his hands, flashing a smile.
"Sorry."
But somehow, she begins to smile too, the edges of her irises glowing a fiery, deep red. Her fangs exposing briefly against her plush mouth. Jughead wants to kiss her, to smear all of that expensive, plum-dark lipstick on his chin and lips, feeling the slickness of its matte texture.
Archie should have considered himself lucky — he tasted Veronica's mouth, drowning in the eroticism and the strength of her thrall lurking within Archie's chest and groin, making him surrender.
He died in a heavenly way, gurgling weakly as Veronica cooed and pet him, drinking from his jugular.
(Jughead almost gets jealous. Almost.)
Kevin's dad has no leads or suspects in the investigation, and they are likely gonna chalk it up to a gruesome and unexpected animal attack by Sweetwater River. Bleeding out until nothing was left.
Nobody can be the wiser.
Veronica lets out a low, delighted hum as Jughead presses in, their hips nudging. It's only them who can trust each other now. Understand each other and the type of exhausting, ravenous cravings for human blood. The corpse of their monstrous sire has been disposed of, burned and charred.
No one and nothing can harm them now.
.
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Riverdale isn't mine. Okie dokie artichokie so this fic is for Jeronica Secret Santa 2018 and being gifted to thefudge on Tumblr! I saw a prompt option for vampire AU and that's immediately what I grabbed onto. HOPEFULLY I DID AN ALRIGHT JOB? LET ME KNOW! Any thoughts/comments are super duper appreciated! Love ya guys!