ScreamingAtTheSky
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Hello All! It has been a while since I posted for Veronica Mars, but I had this story of Logan just being SO in love with Veronica and finally acting on his feelings and them getting it on at the beach (please suspend any and all disbelief about Veronica consenting to semi-public fornication for the sake of this story) in me and I decided to share - not because it's any good, but because it makes me happy and I hope, maybe it brings you some joy, too!
This takes place during Senior Year of high school and both Logan and Veronica are 18 in it - Lily lives, she and Logan are broken up, Veronica and Duncan are broken up, Aaron is a monster (some references to his disgusting abuse of Logan but no graphic descriptions), both Veronica's and Logan's moms are fighting demons, and Keith is a protective gem, as always.
Chapter One is set-up and Chapter Two is the pay-off and they are both full of pretty intense (and probably way too mushy) feelings, but, what can I say? I love LoVe - especially the Lo, and for some reason really enjoy writing from his perspective!
Stay well and safe everyone - wishing you all the best!
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“The point is, prude, we’re friends and we’ll never stop being friends. And we can do whatever we want.”
She stares into his eyes with a look he can’t quite describe – and to say it’s rare for Jeff Winger to be at a loss for words would be an understatement. It’s as if his words have sparked something in her though, like she’s seeing something for the first time. He’s just not sure what that something is.
She rises off the counter and takes one step toward him. “Can we?” she asks, looking up at him through hooded eyes.
He instinctively rises, too, and takes one step closer to her, as if they’re the north and south poles of magnets, positive and negative charges, being pulled together by a force greater than themselves.
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“You said you’d try it?”
“Correct.”
“With both of us?”
“Jeff,” his girlfriend interjects with an eye roll. “Cinnamon’s on a bit of a time crunch here. We don’t actually have all night for you to wrap your head around this. We’re two consenting, independent women. And we’re ready to do this with each other. And you. So, are you in?”
Britta is staring at him, one hand on her hip, the other arm wrapped around Ramona’s side, her head resting on the much taller woman’s shoulder, and his heart swells with love for this adventurous, surprising, sexy woman he’s lucky enough to call his. (Not that he would ever call her “his” to her face. He’s cocky, but he’s not an idiot.)
“Oh, I’m in, Britta.”
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“Britta? Could it be? Have I finally rendered you speechless?”
She huffs and looks directly into his eyes. “You wish.”
“Daily.” He leans in closer to her and she doesn’t move. “But that’s not the point. What do you think we should do now?”
Jeff Winger is an expert at deflection and getting people to admit things they normally wouldn’t, and he can almost feel the heat coming off of Britta. He can practically watch the internal struggle playing in her mind right now – give in to this, whatever it might be, or tell him to go to hell. Her eyes flicker down to his lips for an instant and suddenly he feels it – she wants him. After all this time, something in the balance between them has shifted and Britta Perry wants Jeff Winger bad. All thoughts of dance-offs and Spanish teachers and Deans in elaborate costumes and Annie disappear from his mind as he revels in this new development. It takes all his practiced swagger and resolve to not break into a damn happy dance of his own.
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She’s about to say screw this job when she notices an absurdly tall figure enter the bar and make a beeline for her. Jeff. It’s as if she’d conjured him. As if he knew somehow that she was desperate to see the only man within 100 miles who didn’t make her feel like clawing her own eyes out or bathing in bleach. She watches his confident swagger as he approaches, meets his close-lipped smile with one of her own, and lets the warmth that she feels pool in her belly overtake her for a little bit. It’s as if everyone parts to make room for him so he can stand right in front of her and, just like that, he’s there, leaning one thick arm on the bar and bending slightly so that he’s almost face-to-face with her and she feels ok again.
“Britta.”
“Jeff.”
“Good night?”
“Not particularly. But it’s looking up.”
**It's after Season 6. Britta is working at The Vatican and is surrounded by terrible men. Her night improves when Jeff comes to visit her and, when he finds it necessary, puts those toned muscles of his to good use. OH, and they're in love. Duh. This one is very Britta-centric because she's my favorite ever. Hope this brings you joy!**
Recent bookmarks
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The glide down her legs is quick and sensual, and Veronica spreads her legs, inviting him to lay between them.
The denim of Jughead's jeans are rough against her thighs, but he's kissing her in a way that makes her forget what her name is.
"Holy hell, Jones."
// or Jughead gives Veronica what she desperately needs, and in turn she gives him the most important pieces of herself.
Bookmarked by ScreamingAtTheSky
27 Dec 2025
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Eddie Munson never thought he’d see anyone from Hawkins again, least of all Chrissy Cunningham.
But two years and two thousand miles later, he shows up at her coffee stand like no time has passed at all—except everything’s different. They're not in high school anymore. And neither of them remembers exactly how things ended between them the first time.
Bookmarked by ScreamingAtTheSky
14 Dec 2025
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i don't know if i could ever go without (watermelon sugar high) by cricketsatnight
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
27 Jul 2022
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Eddie was not alright and he wanted to jump out of Steve Harrington’s bimmer. Just tuck and roll his way back to Forest Hills. When they got to the fair, Robin calmly explained that it happened 3 days ago— 3 days ago— and that Chrissy had initiated it.
“Oh,” Eddie mustered. “Is, uh, she doing okay?”
“She seems lighter,” Robin had shrugged, like it wasn’t the most insane news she could have possibly dropped into Eddie Munson’s lap.
“So,” Steve elbowed Eddie. Eddie wanted to knock him out for it. “What’s the plan?”
“Same plan, man,” Eddie buried his hands into his pockets. “Pretend I want to be at something called the fucking Fun Fair. Are you sure we can’t fishbowl your car?”
Series
Bookmarked by ScreamingAtTheSky
09 Dec 2025
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April 1986. Chrissy ditches prom to go see Eddie’s band play, and a month of uncertain flirtation comes to a head.
October 1990. Chrissy and Eddie reconnect in NYC, like a total cliché, and finally get the timing right.
Four years of missed connections, or, what if Chrissy and Eddie still had their drug-deal meet cute in the woods, but Vecna wasn't around to ruin everything?
Bookmarked by ScreamingAtTheSky
07 Dec 2025
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p>Eddie doesn’t do parties.
No, that’s a lie. Eddie does do parties, but he doesn’t do high school parties. Listen, he has to be locked in prison with them eight hours a day, five days a week (in theory), he sure as fuck doesn’t want to spend any extra time around students that looks at him like he’s about to sprout horns at any moment. Now, to be fair, Eddie wishes he could sprout horns – he feels like it’s a look he could rock – but it’s the principle of the matter. Both principle and matter being: fuck those guys.
When he attends, it’s an in and out. He has product to sell, they want to buy, he grabs a beer or two while he’s working and then he’s done.
But – and this is important – not the parties Chrissy Cunningham attends.
Bookmarked by ScreamingAtTheSky
06 Dec 2025