200 Writing Prompts: "What about number 6 of the list 🤔 I know I'm a weirdo but I'never found a story like that kind of angst...😊"

Listen to: "World Spins Madly On", The Weepies

Marrying Jughead had been the happiest moment of your life, or so you'd thought. Walking down the grassy lawn of the backyard of the house you and Jughead had bought together with the money you'd both worked so hard for, wearing your mother's wedding dress. While you'd insisted on a small ceremony–"inner circle only"–Betty and Veronica had fussed over your decorations to the point where your small square of Riverdale land had been transformed into something from a fairytale. What really made it a fairytale was your prince–Jughead Jones III, your high school sweetheart and the love of your life.

The reason this moment wasn't the happiest moment of your life was because it was quickly beat by your positive pregnancy test shortly after. To be honest, you were scared to tell Jughead; neither of you had a lot in the bank especially after buying the house.

To your surprise, Jughead shed tears of joy. "This is amazing, (Y/N). We made a tiny person, a tiny person together. Can you believe that?" He took your hands. "Coming from where I come from, people always thought I was only capable of destroying. But I created, (Y/N). We created."

Jughead then threw himself into his writing, determined to hit a book deal so you two would have financial stability for your child. When the two of you weren't working, you wrote stories together for your future child, planned the baby's room, and simply dreamed of what was coming next. Jughead, coming from the family that he did, was determined to pour all of his love into this child, into your family.

A few weeks later, a publisher had called Jughead regarding the manuscript of his story about Jason Blossom. Interested in the potential small-town true crime, the publisher invited Jughead to meet in New York and discuss a deal.

Initially reluctant to agree, you reassured him. "Juggie, we'll be fine back here. This deal is huge. This is what we've always wanted." You kissed him, smiling.

"Okay, but I'm going to check in as much as I can," Jughead kissed you back tenderly. "You know how much it hurts me to be away from our family."

With a loosely-packed suitcase, wearing his one suit, Jughead Jones III hopped on a plane bound for New York City, eager for his life to begin.

That was when the pain started.

You'd been reading in bed when you felt a wetness on your bottom.

"No," you moaned. "No, no, no." You grabbed tissues from the nightstand and tried to blot up the blood that was pooling in your lap. Fighting back tears and aching pain, you grabbed all the towels from the closet and ran to the car, dialing Jughead on the way.

Jughead was already on the flight when you'd called, so he didn't receive the message until much later. Naturally, he rescheduled with the very understanding publishing agent and took the first plane back.

The plane right back was Jughead's worst nightmare. He couldn't help but blame himself for not being there for you when you got sick, especially when pregnant with your first child. You were vague on the details, so Jughead hoped for the best. He kept kicking himself for being a bad husband, a bad father.

You'd been admitted to the hospital that night, and he didn't return until the following afternoon.

Jughead burst through the door of the hospital room, still wearing his now-wrinkled suit. The bags under his eyes were even more pronounced than normal, and his trademark beanie sat askew.

He kneeled at your bedside. "What happened?"

That was when the tears started. You were able to maintain your composure for the doctors, the nurses, the social workers, but in front of Jughead, you could never keep anything inside.

Your lip quivered, and eventually you started gasping for air, tears flowing freely from your tired eyes. Jughead, shocked, confused, and hurt, rubbed your back.

"It's okay," he cooed. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it." This is all my fault, he thought.

"I'm s-so sorry, Jughead," you sobbed, hands gripping your mouth as if you'd scream without them. "I lost the baby."

Jughead gasped, and you saw tears forming in his eyes as well. No.

This caused you to cry more. "I let you down, Juggie. I don't know what I did wrong... I always do everything wrong..." The telemetry monitor at your bedside started to beep due to your increasing heart rate and respirations. A nurse hovered at your doorway.

You wheezed for air, and tears kept coming out of your already-dehydrated body. You remembered the fairytale wedding, and felt sorry for it all. "I'm sorry you married me."

That silenced his inner reverie of self-blame. "Stop! Stop stop stop," Jughead grabbed you and pulled you close, quieting your sobs. He wiped away the tears from your face. "This was not your fault. This is nobody's fault."

He shed his jacket, climbing into the hospital bed next to you. He kissed your forehead, rubbing your arms up and down. "I have never regretted the day I married you, (Y/N), and I never will. I love you, and I would never blame you for what happened today." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "If anything, I'm sorry for not being here for you as it happened. I will always regret that."

"But... but you wanted to create," you protested weakly. "And I destroyed it." Your voice cracked.

"I did, create, (Y/N)," Jughead explained. "I helped create the love we share. And I don't care about what other people think, anymore. Because that love is stronger than any destruction they can blame me for. Those moments writing stories with you, planning our child's life, those may be a bit sadder in retrospect. But those will be moments I will cherish forever, because I spent them with you."

Jughead pulled you tighter. And in that moment, the hospital bed felt like it did the first time you'd ever slept with Jughead. Peaceful and loving and right. He smiled, and for the first time in a day, you were able to smile too.

"Like I said, (Y/N)," he whispered. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it."