#and how veronica is often spoken about with exasperation

[neonhog]

the fnv brotherhood of steel being such an intense parallel to being stuck with an abusive conservative family explored largely through a lesbian character whose constantly making excuses for them gighhrggurughh

#censoring so stuff doesnt appear in tags to specify #but the elders have a very specific type of control over the rest of the bunker thats very reminiscent of #the amount of power parents have over their children or fathers have over their general families #where they could be harming you and the people around you terribly #but despite #you have to remain neutral and calm and kind towards them to not risk being #the person who yelled at your beloved parent #and how elijah was able to #take on the role of veronicas father #simply because he chose too and then was able to isolate veronica from her lover likely using the bunkers homophobia #is actually a very terrifying thought #because he held the power to do this because he simply claimed ownership over a young girl as her father #and how veronica is often spoken about with exasperation #which is probably warranted in a way because all of these people are stuck with each-other and see each-other at the worse #they have very little privacy and if you look at the bunkers they all sleep in you can see that they likely have no opportunity to privatel #explore their sexuality in any way #which is especially terrible in an environment where homophobia can be weaponized on a whim #and the casual mentions of inc-st being necessary to keep the bunker running and how their x-nophobia is leading to this inc-st-ous abuse #is especially disturbing when you consider how easy veronica was isolated by an older man in the brotherhood #even if it wasn't for those intentions #it always could be with someone else #veronica santangelo

[artificialqueens]

Been Here All Along (Tayce/A’Whora) - Juno

Summary: A game of spin the bottle turns into a night of realisation for Tayce and A’Whora.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little story! It was inspired by a prompt list from tumblr and is a one-shot featuring lots of the DRUK2 girls.

“Who’s gonna spin first?”

Joe spluttered with feigned indignation at Veronica’s question and seized the bottle from her hand. “Me, of course. Who else? It is my house.”

“And mine,” Veronica pointed out, “and Tayce’s, and Pip’s! We all live here too, you know!”

Joe ignored Veronica as she normally did, and put the bottle in the centre of the gaggle of people on the living room floor, giving it a violent spin with a flick of her wrist. The twelve of them all watched it go around and finally land on Ginny, who raised their bright yellow eyebrows and pursed their lips into an O.

“Truth … or dare?” Joe asked in her usual dramatic fashion, picking up the bottle and waving it under Ginny’s nose like a microphone.

“Give over!”

“Truth … or dare?”

“Erm, truth. Oh, shut up!” Ginny protested at the collective groan, holding up the plastic cup of alcohol. “Truth first! I need at least another three of these before you catch me taking off my clothes and running down the road, I can tell you that for nothing.”

Tayce felt Aurora’s hand creep into the crook of her elbow, her skin tingling at the contact as it always did whenever Aurora’s hands were on her. Aurora leaned a little closer to breathe words into her ear.

“How often does Ginny do that when you all play this game?”

Tayce had to think about it. “So far only twice. Once in second year, and once this year. But don’t worry, they only got as far as the Spar on the corner.”

“Only twice?” Aurora looked scandalised.

“Okay,” Joe’s theatrical voice and emphatic sweeping gestures with her arms focused all the attention of the eleven people around her as she spoke. “Do you fancy anyone in this group, and how long have you fancied Pip for?”

Everyone shrieked; Tayce grabbed Aurora’s hand and squeezed in glee as Pip mimed throwing the tiny handbag she always carried at Joe. Ginny just grinned and without another word, stood up and left for the kitchen, blowing them all a kiss as they went.

“They don’t really love me,” Pip shrugged, “they just keep me hanging on.”

“I heard that,” Ginny called from the kitchen. “You want some punch?”

“Get a move on, it’s your turn to spin, Ginny!” Lawrence shouted back. “Pryzm closes the doors at eleven, and I want to be fucking buzzing off my tits before we get there.”

Ginny came back into the living area, carrying the plastic tub filled with the bright pink concoction that Asttina had made, the result of plenty of cheap vodka and Sourz and pink lemonade that Asttina insisted was class in a glass, even if the rest of them had their doubts.

“Pip, spin for me, will you love?” Ginny asked, dipping their plastic cup into the tub and filling it with drink.

The game went on for a while, a few more turns taken and a lot more alcohol flowing. Aurora was getting more tactile the more she had to drink - as usual - until her chin rested on Tayce’s shoulder, leaning into Tayce’s right side, her hand still looped in the crook of her elbow and her perfume invading her every synapse.

And Tayce would never admit that just that contact was making her stomach quiver with butterflies.

It was an age before finally Tia’s spin of the bottle landed on Tayce, who had secretly been looking forward to it as they all did, even if none of them would admit it. She felt Aurora’s hand squeeze her again, her hot breath against her neck.

“Tayce -“ Tia began, but Joe held up her hand.

“Tayce,” Joe took over the conversation, continuing her theatrics, “truth, or DARE?”

From the way that Joe was saying dare, and the way the rest of the circle were looking round at her expectantly, Aurora’s fingers digging into her forearm, she knew she had to take one for the team.

She sighed in mock resignation. “Alright, give me a dare, Joe.”

There had been six whole rounds of truths and so the group’s collective cheer could probably have been heard in Tayce’s native Wales - apart from Lawrence whose sudden coughing fit sounded a great deal like sexual tension - but Joe peered at everyone in the group, finally turning back to Tayce.

“I dare you to kiss … Cherry.”

There was a beat of silence around the room before Cherry’s high-pitched cackle filled it.

“What! Why me?” Cherry cried, her eyes darting between Tayce and Aurora in confusion.

And she wasn’t the only confused person in the circle; Tia’s brow furrowed, looking from Tayce and Aurora and then to Joe. As if they all wondered if Joe was more plastered than she was letting on, not to have noticed the elephant in the room.

“Just get it over with,” Veronica muttered, “taxis will be here in a minute.”

“Come on, speed it up!” Lawrence waved her hands at them both. “Pryzm, remember?”

Tayce pulled herself free of Aurora’s welcome warmth and crawled across the circle to Cherry, as the shriek of the girls around them reached fever pitch. When their lips met, Tayce could feel Cherry laughing nervously as she put her hands to Tayce’s face, her touch a little awkward.

There was nothing behind it, but the group around them were shrieking as if they’d just scored a try at the Six Nations. They pulled away to the excitement dying down and Lawrence’s slow clap.

“Great. BAFTA award nomination for romantic moment of the decade. Can we get in the taxis now?”

——

By the time they’d managed to get into the club, it was gone ten, the place was heaving with bodies moving to the music, and none of them could get to the bar with the queue at least three-people deep. Lawrence was complaining that they hadn’t spent more time at home getting drunk before they got there.

“You were the one who insisted on calling the bloody taxis!” Veronica put her hands on her hips.

“I didn’t, that was Ellie!” Lawrence folded her arms. “God, don’t blame me for everything!”

Tayce sniggered behind her vodka and red bull, watching Veronica’s face growing even redder, out of booze or annoyance it was hard to tell. They were all used to Lawrence’s humour by now, and Tayce couldn’t blame Lawrence for taking the piss this much; especially with Veronica, who was just a little too easy to rile up.

“Anyway, it was Aurora’s fault, really. We’d have been here sooner if she’d gotten into the first taxi and not made us all play musical fucking chairs because she suddenly didn’t want to go with Tayce!” Lawrence wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t know what’s going on there!”

Tayce turned to see where Aurora was, just in time to see her shake her head in exasperation and turn away from them, making her way to the stairs leading to the smoking area.

“Lawrence!”

Lawrence looked confused. “What did I do?”

“I’ll go - see if she’s alright -“ Tayce said, pushing her way through the crowds and heading down the stairs and out to the smoking area. As expected Aurora was there, leaning her back against the wall, her vape pen in hand, blowing clouds of smoke into the rain.

She sighed as Tayce drew near to her. “I don’t think your uni friends like me very much.”

“You always say that, you’ve said that all three years we’ve been at uni, and you know they do like you. They think you’re lush.”

Aurora concentrated on twirling her vape pen around her fingers. “Lawrence doesn’t.”

“She does, you know that complaining about everything is her way of being friendly. The more she complains, the more it means she’s having a good time. Trust me.”

Tayce rubbed Aurora’s shoulder when she didn’t look any happier, while Aurora looked at the ground. “I didn’t get to do any truths, either, or - or dares.”

Tayce spluttered with laughter. “Okay, tell you what, let’s have a round now, just the two of us. So - truth … or dare?” She asked, mimicking Joe’s affected tone and deep, throaty voice.

“Tayce -“ Aurora waved her hand in her direction, but the corners of her mouth were curling, and she screwed her eyes shut as she lost the fight to keep the laughter out of her face.

“Truth or DARE?”

Aurora shook her head, still laughing. “I fucking hate you! Give me a dare, then.”

“You sure you want a dare? Positive?”

When Aurora looked back at Tayce, she was no longer attempting to hide the coy smile, chewing her bottom lip while a gentle flush spread up from her neck to her face.

Tayce couldn’t keep the purr out of her voice. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Aurora’s eyes widened a fraction, darting to the people around them. “Tayce!” She murmured, raising her hand to slap Tayce playfully on the arm.

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Aurora teased, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Why not?” Tayce smirked, raising her eyebrow. “Scared you’ll fall in love with me?”

But Aurora just ran the fingers of her free hand along Tayce’s arm, up to her shoulder.

“Tayce! I’ve been in love with you since we were kids!”

The words in Aurora’s voice were something Tayce had only heard in her wildest dreams, and now being spoken into existence, they ignited something intense between them. Suddenly their lips had met; Tayce’s head spinning at the thought of finally getting to kiss the friend she’d yearned for for years. Aurora felt like home, the intimacy like the most natural progression in the universe.

At the sound of a cough behind them, one that sounded an awful lot like “sexual tension”, Tayce broke the kiss off and turned to see Ellie pushing Lawrence back into the club and mouthing sorry at them with a grimace.

Turning back to Aurora, Tayce was surprised at her confused expression. “I didn’t realise … but are you and Cherry …”

“No, wait,” Tayce shook her head. “That was just a dare!”

“I thought that Joe wanted you to kiss Cherry because she was trying to make you two -“

“No!” Tayce gesticulated wildly, almost knocking Aurora’s vape pen clean from her hand. “It was just because Cherry is a bit shy, and Joe likes to try to involve her! Don’t worry, Cherry doesn’t fancy me!”

“You’re sure -“

“Yes!” Tayce laughed. “Jesus, you think too much.”

Aurora took a deep inhale, blowing smoke out the corner of her mouth, the air around them filling with the scent of strawberry as she did. “Can you tell what I’m thinking now?”

“Well I’m not a psychic,” Tayce murmured, pulling Aurora close again, “but if you’re thinking the same as me, then it’s that we need to deflate that air bed in my room. You won’t need it if you’re coming in with me.”

“Great minds think alike!” Aurora replied with a coy grin.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #a'whora #tayce #taywhora #joe black #ginny lemon #sister sister #veronica green #cherry valentine #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #fluff #college au #lesbian au #uk2 #juno

[dauntless-gothamite]

An Aroace in Need of Space…and Hamburgers [3/8]

part 1 | part 2 | ao3

Chapter 3: Boring Mornings and Lazy Afternoons

"It's way too early for this," Jughead muttered when his alarm sounded the next morning, jolting him awake with its loud, obnoxious rings. Groaning in frustration, he sat up to silence the alarm--or the "Robot-Banshee Death Child" as he liked to call it. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the sunlight flooding into his room, and when he could finally see, he noticed his computer was perilously close the end of his bed, his phone was on the floor, and a book was held loosely in his hand, his finger wedged between pages. After adjusting his beanie to ensure it was places securely on his head, he flopped back down on his bed, prolonging the time between waking up and going to school as much as possible. Knowing he couldn't lie there forever--no matter how bad he wanted to--he finally dragged himself out of bed, all the while cursing his never-ending thirst for knowledge.

As he started to get dressed, grabbing the first tee shirt he could find, along with a pair of jeans, black boots, a charcoal flannel, and his serpent jacket, Jughead recalled how he lay in bed last night, devouring the information held within the documents Kevin had sent him. His plan had been to just glance over the stuff to get an idea of what he was working with, but once he started reading, he couldn't stop. It was addicting. He found himself more and more interested in the community several of his friends were a part of, and he wondered why he'd never looked into it before. In just a few hours, he'd learned more than he could have predicted; there were a documents which looked into parts of the LGBT+ community that weren't discussed as often as others, information on the way discrimination existed within the commentary itself, and some fascinating, reliable statistics. As much as Jughead wanted to continue his research and start writing the article, he knew it would have to wait. After all, he did still have to go to school.

The day seemed to drag on, and Jughead was tempted to make sure the clocks at the school were actually working because it seemed as though every time he glanced at the clock, no time had passed.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of lunch, and Jughead bolted from the classroom he was sitting in, making his way to the cafeteria. As doors opened and students fled classrooms,  the halls got more crowded, much to Jughead's annoyance. He pushed through the crowd, but when he heard someone call out his name, he spun around, looking for whomever had spoken, and he spotted someone waving in his direction from a large group gathered by the lockers lining the hallway. He made his way to the group, trying to see past the students headed towards the cafeteria. After what felt like a long time, the halls started to clear as the rush ended, and Jughead walked up to the group, smiling when he saw Toni standing  next to Sweet Pea, Fangs, Cheryl, Betty, and Veronica.

"Took you long enough to get here!" she said.

"Well, you are kind of hard to see, Toni" jughead said, smiling. Toni crossed her arms, and was about to speak, but before she could, Jughead said "Especially when you are surrounded by all of these normal-sized people, shortie." The whole group laughed at that, and Toni slapped his arm playfully.

"It's not my fault that this one," she said, tilting her head towards Sweet Pea, "didn't care to help me get your attention." Jughead chuckled as he saw the sparkle in Sweet Pea's eyes and his mischievous smirk.

"Hey, it is not my fault!" Sweet Pea added, raising his hands in surrender. "All I said was that because you wanted to talk to Jughead, you should be the one to get his attention."

"You need to talk to him too, and we both know it. You just think it's funny to watch me jump up and down to see over everyone else!"

"Well, you aren't wrong about that, it's pretty entertaining," Sweet Pea shrugged. "But that's not the point here." Turning to Jughead, he said "So, we were wondering if you're down to ditch the last few classes with us." Jughead raised his eyebrows and turned to Betty, who looked like she was about to burst out laughing any second.

"Was this your idea, miss near-perfect attendance?"

"Actually, it was mine" Veronica said, stepping forward, reminding Jughead of her presence. While he was surprised a new student was already ditching, he didn't think it was really a big deal; she seemed smart enough.

"I'm in, but there is one condition" Jughead said, putting on a serious expression, crossing his arms, and making eye contact with everyone before his eyes locked with Veronica's.

"And what would that be?" Veronica questioned, a slight edge to her voice.

"If we're leaving, the first stop has to be Pop's; I'm so hungry." As if to emphasize his statement, his stomach grumbled.

"I thought you were being serious!" Cheryl said, giggling and nudging Toni's shoulder jokingly.

"Oh, I'm serious; I don't joke about food--especially not hamburgers!" The group made their way to the parking lot, excited to spend some time together outside of school.

The group entered Pops, and while Jughead was enjoying himself, there was something bothering him. As he reached over the table to grab a handful of fries, he asked "Hey, Where's Archie?"  No one had an answer, and the table fell silent, each person lost in thought.

"He's probably playing the guitar or something" Betty piped up after a few moments. "I texted him earlier, but I haven't heard back."

"Guys, there is an easy way to solve this," Veronica said as she got up from her seat and headed towards the door, phone in hand. "I'll be back in just a minute, I just have to make a quick call," she yelled to the table before disappearing through the doorway. The people seated at the table looked at each other in confusion; they wondered why a call from Veronica, of all people, would receive a different reaction than a call from any of them. The group had already started talking about what to do next when Veronica returned to her spot at the table, looking satisfied with herself.

"Archie will be here in a few minutes, he just got out of class late and missed our messages from earlier," she declared. Instantly, all heads turned towards her. "What is it? Why are you all looking at me?" she asked, confused.

"O.M.G.--I know that look!" Cheryl teased, dropping her jaw. "Someone has been doing a little flirting, haven't they?" she asked Veronica, causing her to look down and blush slightly. As a car pulled into the lot outside of Pop's, everyone turned to look, and they were met with the of see Archie behind the wheel, grinning. "Clearly you aren't the only one who has developed an interest," Cheryl whispered, smirking, before turning her attention towards Toni.

Veronica was about to reply, but Archie entered at that exact moment, announcing himself with a loud "hey guys!" Just as he started to sit down, the waitress came over and took their used dishes and gave them the check. Archie frowned a little as he realized everyone was ready to leave; he didn't want to eat alone.

Betty saw his frown, and asked if he wanted them to stay and wait for him. He shook his head and shrugged, watching the group shuffle out of the restaurant. Veronica was still there, but all her things were packed into her purse, ave for her phone, so Archie assumed she was about to leave too. After sending off a quick text, she set her phone down, but she made no move to stand.

Instead, she looked up at Archie and said "you didn't think I'd call you here only to leave, right?" Archie looked down sheepishly but quickly returned his gaze to Veronica.

"Well, to be honest, I didn't really know" Archie responded, causing Veronica to laugh and shake her head in a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Meanwhile, outside the diner, Cheryl, Toni, Sweet Pea, Fangs, Jughead, and Betty were all standing around their bikes, making sure everyone was ready to go. The group had decided they to split up for the afternoon so they could home and rest or spend time with their partner; both of which sounded appealing to the group of tired students. After making plans to meet upat the White Wyrm tomorrow night, people turned on their engines and left the parking lot, driving towards the South Side. Fangs was the first to speed off, followed by Cheryl and Toni, who were both on Toni's bike, Cheryl behind Toni, her arms wrapped around the other girl's torso. Next was Sweet Pea, who nodded his head in departure before increasing the speed of his bike, causing the engine to rev loudly.

"He won't be sneaking up on anyone with that engine," Betty joked as she climbed onto Jughead's bike to sit behind him. Jughead chuckled in response and muttered what sounded like "you got that right," but Betty wasn't entirely sure; the wheels and engine made it hard to hear. Unlike all the other bikes who had already left, Jughead turned towards the Northside of town, headed for Betty's house. She smiled as they drove, looking forward to an afternoon of working on the school paper, discussing conspiracy theories, and watching movies with Jughead.

#motherfxking-flannel #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale imagine #aroace jughead #jughead jones imagine #jughead jones #betty cooper #demisexual betty cooper #cheryl x toni #choni #lesbian #bisexual #southside serpents #serpents imagine #fanfic #ao3feed

[angrylizardjacket]

act your age: [1] Beautiful

Chapter Summary: Giselle, queen bee of Year 10, wants to audition for Heathers but is tired of being typecast as the Mean Girl. John is far too sweet for his own good. Roger doesn’t want to be here.

Word Count: 2262 | [act your age masterpost]

The moment the casting call gets pinned on the notice board outside of the arts department staff room, Giselle knows, one way or another, that she’s going to be a part of it. 

“Did you see the school’s putting on Heathers?” When she brings it up at lunch, her friends all nod and giggle and make comments about how ‘wouldn’t it be fun if we all auditioned; we could be the Heathers!’ and something in Giselle’s gut twists as she gives them a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes as she hears them make assumptions about the casting. Taking a long sip on her chocolate milk and listens to the girls butcher lyrics and melodies, though she doesn’t bother correct them, they’re having fun after all, and besides, she’s the only one who’d benefit from showing them up, and despite popular opinion, she’s not mean or needlessly cruel like that.

Obviously she’s not blind to the way people regard her, she knows she’s pretty and rich and standoffish, which is partially a carefully cultivated personality she’s developed to survive high school, but it also happens to be partially things she can’t control, but that she has to take in stride anyways. She’s lived her life in the shadow of her parents, and how she’s presented herself, how she acts, has always been seen as a reflection on them. Her mother’s never been so high maintenance, but everyone talks about her father, and he can’t help but listen.

Speaking of her father, he’s elated at the prospect of her auditioning; he’s a producer, and a successful one at that, has had his hand in almost all of the big-name shows that have come through this town for the past thirty years. Giselle’s childhood had been complimentary tickets and front row seats and backstage passes; to see her finally taking an interest in actually performing was something akin to a return on a long-term investment, not that her father would ever say that to her, but part of her could tell.

Her mother smiles gently at Giselle over afternoon tea, Giselle’s dumped her bag on the floor by the kitchen island and is talking through her audition song choices out loud, and her mother looks on in awe. The school just asked for a three minute song, it didn’t have to be from Heathers, it didn’t even have to be from a musical, just to make it easier on those kids who probably weren’t as well versed in musical theatre history. Giselle, however, had practically been baptised in it, and wanted to show off more than just her impressive vocal range.

“You’re gonna ace it, Jellybean.” Her mother muses with a fond grin as there’s a lull and Giselle devours a banana. Giselle hums and grins, leans into it when her mother kisses her forehead, and then is off and running, taking her bag and changing into her work uniform.

“Did you hear about the musical?” It seems like she’s asking everyone, and in moment of peace at work, that includes John Deacon, who was behind the counter filling a bucket with water and soap. He makes a noise that Giselle takes to mean that he hasn’t, though he’s still mostly focused on his task at hand. “I’m thinking of auditioning.” 

Giselle at work is nothing like Giselle at school, and it took John almost a full three weeks to realise this. They’re in the same year, in some of the same classes, but they’ve never spoken more than two words to each other before they started working together at the cafe that sat between their two houses. 

“You should, you’d do great.” There isn’t even a slight hesitation before his response, and Giselle is beaming despite herself.

“You don’t even know what show it is.” She counters, still wearing a grin, and John puts the bucket on the floor and sticks his mop in it.

“Yeah but I’ve heard you sing.” 

John might be one of the only truly positive forces in her life, Giselle realises as another customer steps up to the counter, and it shows. It’s not often that she puts up a front around him, at first it was because she was simply too tired from work to bother, and after all, it’s just John Deacon after all, it’s not like it’s a huge betrayal of trust if he lets it slip she smiles with real emotion on occasion. But the thing is, it doesn’t take long for her to realise that he’s as genuine as she is usually guarded, though he’s quiet enough that no-one really seems to notice.

By now, they’re actually, genuinely, very good friends, even if it doesn’t seem like it to anyone else. John talks her through her nerves for the weeks leading up to the audition, though he’s the only person outside of her family who she lets see her like this, and never at school. She’s different there, not cruel or unkind, just guarded; she’s not allowed to show hesitation like this at school, and it makes John’s chest tighten just a little knowing she allows herself to be like this around him.

The day before her audition, when Giselle’s shift ends and she’s about to head home for the night, John gives her a hug. It’s unexpected, she’s never taken him for a hugger, but it’s exactly what she needs right now after working herself up at the prospect of the looming audition. 

“You’re gonna do great, Geeg,” he’s the only one who uses that nickname, the only person her age who she’d let get away with it, and she hugs him back. “Just get a good night’s sleep, drink plenty of water, maybe some lemon and honey, okay?” Pulling back, he grins at Giselle’s faux exasperation.

“Yes, mum.” Giselle rolls her eyes, but gives his shoulder a thankful squeeze before heading home.

“God, how’d they drag you into this?” When Giselle arrives at the music room fifteen minutes before her scheduled time slot, her stomach in knots, there’s only one other person waiting. She knows immediately from the blonde hair and flippant tone that it’s Roger Taylor, and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I,” Giselle hesitates, frowning, “I signed up?” She’s confused more than anything else, phone in her hand, sheet music in front sleeve of the binder she’s got clutched to her chest. Roger makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, tipping his head back and a silence falls between them, broken only by the faint and not too terrible audition song that’s being muffled by the closed door.

“You’re Roger, right?” Her voice surprisingly level and confident; he seems to know who she is, if his earlier comment is anything to go off of. When he smiles, it’s an easy, cocky grin, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Guilty as charged,” he confirms easily, “and you’re Giselle.” He pauses, regarding her for only the barest moment before he hums, “actually, ‘shouldn’t be surprised you’re here.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Bristling at the implication, it takes her a moment to push down the anger that flared within her when he mentions her father; he didn’t mean it as an insult, just making note of the correlation between her family and her current situation, “I’m not my father.”

“Would be weird if you were.” Roger agrees easily. The response takes Giselle by surprise enough that her anger dies down, and by then the other auditionee, a girl in Roger’s year, Giselle is pretty sure, invites him in for his audition, holding the door for him while blushing. She wishes him luck, and he winks at her, telling her he won’t need it. Before the door closes completely, both girls hear him announce himself.

“Hi, I’m Roger Taylor, I’m auditioning for the role of tree number three and I’ve prepared Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” So clearly he does not want to be there. The other girl hides a giggle and doesn’t even acknowledge Giselle as she leaves. 

The thing is, of what she hears of it, his audition actually goes really well, a pitch-perfect version of Twinkle Twinkle if she’s ever heard it. She’s too nervous to tell him that, especially when his audition lasts all of five minutes, putting them ahead of schedule, and giving Giselle no time to calm her racing heart. She’s outwardly nervous, which is something she doesn’t allow herself to be on campus, or during daylight hours. The worst part is that when he opens the door, Roger Taylor sees her wide-eyed nervousness as he calls her in. He pauses for a beat afterward, frowning; he knew Giselle by reputation, the same way she knew him-

As soon as he starts considering that he may have seen a crack in her armour, it’s as if a physical barrier comes up, hiding her fear behind her eyes and a thin smile, and with a clear and precise focus, she pulls her lyrics sheet from her folder, breezing past him. Fifteen year olds are so fuckin’ weird, is all he really thinks after that.

Giselle waits until the door closes completely before she gives the panel, which consisted of the drama teacher and the music teacher, her most winning smile. They greet her kindly, and the music teacher reaches out for the music sheet and Giselle’s phone as she hands them over. They ask her who she’s auditioning for, what she’s singing, and seem surprised when she tells them she’s going for the lead, for Veronica.

She can see it in their eyes, they expect her to be a Heather, just like her friends, just like the rest of this school. They’re not meant to and they know it, can’t just judge kids like that, and they really try to not let it show, but Giselle saw it anyways.

“I’ll be singing Breathe from In the Heights.” She says, and her voice doesn’t shake.

When the song finally finishes, there’s a ringing in her ears, like the world around her has turned to white noise, and she can feel herself breathing hard, hands trembling, but she doesn’t look away from the teachers. There’s no hesitation; they ask her to prepare a song for both Veronica and Heather Chandler, and tell her when callbacks are. 

The tremble doesn’t leave her hands as she opens the door for the next kid, a girl in the year above her who is giving her this wide-eyed look like she heard Giselle’s entire audition and is dreading having to follow it, but when the girl shuts the door behind her, Giselle sees there’s one other person waiting in the hallway.

“That sounded lovely from out here, how did it go?” It’s John, smiling and sitting on the window sill, and Giselle's response catches in her throat, just for a moment.

“Are you auditioning?” She asks, confused, and he hops down from his seat, shaking his head, offering a shrug when her brow furrowed.

“I wanted to come cheer you on, sorry I couldn’t get here earlier.” He’s beaming at her, picking up her folder where she’d left it on one of the seats, handing it to her. “I don’t have long, I’ve got a half-programmed robot waiting for me back in the computer lab.” He muses as they take a few steps down the hall, and Giselle can’t bring herself to look at him; John Deacon, who everyone else in class jokes about building himself a friend rather than making the effort of actually talking to someone, made the effort for her. They’re friends, sure, but... Giselle doesn’t want to think about how pleased this all makes her feel.

“I think it went really well.” She admits, not reverting entirely to her popular persona, the smile she gives him is genuine. “I got a callback.” She grins tentatively, and John beams back at her, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“See, I told you you had nothing to worry about,” he starts, but Giselle’s answer is a reflexive snap.

“I was never worried.” It’s so clipped it stings a little, and she regrets it as soon as she says it, her cool mask now firmly in place no matter how much she wants to remove it. It’s a knee-jerk reaction to deny any sign of weakness, even though she knew John meant nothing by it. 

But still, they’ve stopped walking. 

“Of course you weren’t,” his voice is soft and reserved in the wake of the sharp tone shift, and he gives her a thin, guarded smile, “I should be getting back to my robot; I’m glad it went well, Geeg.” He hesitates like he wants to say something else, but Giselle doesn’t know what to say, how to explain or how to apologise, and turns and veers off down the hallway towards the engineering department.

And just like that, she feels anxious again, which isn’t a feeling she’s well versed with; she’s never snapped at John before, and he’s never left like that, and the anxious feeling lasts all through the next day and a half while she throws herself into learning her new songs, though it’s not going well. She’s dwelling on it, she knows she can’t focus, and the moment she apologises to him at work, and he grins at her like there’s nothing wrong in the world, she knows without even trying that she could hit every note of Candy Store if she wanted to right now. She doesn’t, and the customer is getting a little impatient, but she can’t stop smiling.

the heathers: @whoschantel 

[message me to be added to the tag list xx]

#roger taylor #john deacon #roger taylor imagine #john deacon imagine #john deacon x oc #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #act your age #queen #queen imagines #high school au #and all the queen's men #ask your destiny to dance fic #heathers #heathersrelated

[many-miscellaneous-musings]

Jughead x Fem!Reader- Memoir of a Broken Youth

Warnings: alcoholism, child abuse, mentions of child death, depression, swearing and drugs. Please don’t read if any of that sounds triggering to you loves, I want you to take care of yourselves.

Words: 3674

(Y/n) made your way through the halls of Riverdale high, her shoulders hunched over and her stare on the ground as she ducked through the hallways, avoiding as many people as she possibly could. Her (h/l), (H/c) hair covering her face as she made her way through the crowded building, determined to get to her first class as early as she could. She simply wanted to enjoy the quiet of an empty classroom to calm her frazzled nerves until she was forced to deal with the buffoons around her.

(Y/N) had always been somewhat shy and quiet. Someone who didn’t have any friends and she was completely content with that. People led to heartbreak, people were not trustworthy in any way. Her friends of the past had taught her that, and so had her family. The girl’s parents for the most part were happy when she was a child, until her sister had gotten sick.

The girl had only been 13 years old when her little sister had passed away. The small girl had been so frail and ill, (Y/N) had almost been happy when she went, because that meant the baby sister she loved so much would stop being in pain.

The hardest part was her parents. They had grown to forget that their older daughter had existed.The first 6 months were easier than the later years. Her mother wallowed in a depression, sitting in front of the tv without moving for days at a time before remembering she had things to do, and would shuffle out of the room to eat something small, or do some small chore. For the most part though she would be in her room. (Y/N)’s father was another story. He threw himself into his work, and had began to work longer and longer hours. The family had hospital bills to pay and with her mother unable to work, her father was stuck.

It was the second half of the first year when things became harder. Work was no longer enough to pay the bills, and (Y/N)’s father joined the south side serpents, hoping that if he could help with the drug pedalling he could gain the extra cash needed to support the family. Its too bad that the drugs in the home soon became her mothers only pass time, her father turning to alcohol when the weight of the world seemed to be too much.

At only 13 years old the girl had learned that people left. That no one would be there forever, because if her family couldn’t be, the ones who were supposed to be there always were willing to simply forget she existed, then no one could be trusted.

At 14 years old she taught herself how to cook, and clean the house. Someone had to do it, and she couldn’t go on scrounging around the house for whatever was around when her father had chosen to go grocery shopping, or what she could sneak from her friends homes. The friends she was slowly losing because of her home life.

By the time she started school at Riverdale High, she was the sole legal breadwinner of her family, her father getting too deep in the alcohol and Serpent business (sometimes he would bring money home, but it was never a reliable source), her mother too addicted to her drugs. The small girl worked long hours at Pop’s to buy the groceries, and spent as much time as she could in school to prevent herself from having to go home.

Even if she wanted friends, there was little time for them. Her spare time was spent writing or drawing, her paintings being the one thing that she could pour her soul and feelings into. Her one escape from this hellhole. She often gave up sleep to draw, or to write, though her drawings were always her favourite thing. She drew everything around her, and everything she could think of in her life, as a way to jot down what was happening. It was easier to draw her feelings from the still life images around her, than to write out her feelings in some diary.

She was clutching the sketchpad in her arms as she ducked beneath football players arms, spun past cheerleaders who walked in too large groups in the hall, and snuck past the rest. When she made it to her english room she sat down in her usual seat, breathing a sigh of relief as she laid the sketchpad in front of her, drawing a picture of her sister upon the pages, an image of before she got sick, of happier times. She barely even noticed as the bell had rang, and the artist quickly shoved her work away, looking to the front of the class as the teacher began to teach.

What she never noticed were the boy’s eyes that were glanced towards her from his seat beside her. Her eyes were focussed on her work, and she never knew that Jughead Jones was staring at her discretely. To him she was the one person he had never been able to find out. The one person in all of Riverdale he hadnt been able to learn anything about. All he knew was from the news clippings, the small obituary that had been dedicated to her sister. He only knew it was her sister because her name had been in the bottom, and he had heard the girls last name spoken in class a couple of times. He knew she could write, from the few pieces of writing the teachers had forced her to read to the class, but he only knew there was talent, as she never wrote of anything personal. Only stories and tales of fiction. He knew of a tiny bit of your past, and that she seemed nice enough when she served him at Pop’s. He had been wanting to ask questions, but had always held his tongue.

What he didn’t know was that she was as intrigued by him, as he was by her. She was the person she couldn’t figure out, the one that was different from the rest. The one that she could see herself getting along with, if she could break through her haze of mistrust. She refused to talk to him, besides a small hello in the diner while she worked. She refused to get to know him, but she was as attracted to him as he was to her.

At the end of class he was still watching her as she packed up her things and headed out the door of the classroom, not a sound leaving her lips as she went. Later that day he caught sight of her again, sitting under the large tree at the very back of the school grounds, the same sketchpad balanced upon her legs as she worked feverishly.

“Why don’t you just go talk to the girl?” Veronica had asked, an eye roll present as she spoke.

“Because no one ever talks to her Ronnie, she doesn’t like people,” Betty said, shaking her head, blonde ponytail bobbing as she did. She herself had tried to befriend (Y/N) after her sisters death, but it had been to no avail.

“So? Jughead didn’t either and look where we are now,” the noirette giggled, a sigh of exasperation leaving her lips, “Anyone can see that youre interested in her, so go, shoo, talk to her,” she said as she waved her hands towards the dark haired male.

“No way in hell, two girls around me is annoying as it is,” he said, his attention focussed on the laptop in front of him. Ronnie just rolled her eyes again, but allowed the subject to drop. For that day.

She would goad him to talk to her almost everyday, and he always refused. It was, much to his annoyance, thanks to Reggie Mantle that he had been able to befriend her. The Jock had been watching her from across the student lounge, an undeniable smirk on his face. It was the day after Archie had jumped in and defended Jughead against Reggie’s taunts. The topic of conversation was the same, but this time, Reggie had another target chosen.

“You know, if it wasn’t Donnie Darko over there,” he said, sneering as he motioned his head towards Jughead, “Then it had to be southside trash over there,” he said, his gaze turning to where the girl was sitting. She usually hated to be in the student lounge, but her usual spot had been taken over by some freshman. She would do with the student lounge for now, until she found a new spot.

“Oh come on Reg, theres no way such a little thing would be able to do that,” laughed another one of the jocks, his head shaking as Reggie rolled his eyes.

“I bet she helped Darko, I bet the freaks got off on it. I wonder if shes even drawing the scene in that little book,” Chuck laughed, making his way over to where the girl was sitting. She had her headphones plugged into her phone and she didn’t hear them coming, only realizing what was happening until the sketchpad was ripped from her lap. She watched in horror as Chuck looked through the pages, mirth in his eyes and a laugh on his lips as he flipped through the pages at the front of the book. (Y/N) jumped up and tried to grab it from him but he held it out of her reach.

“These are such shit, I cant even figure out what half of them are,” Chuck said with a roaring laugh, “I bet that a 2 year old could do better. This is what you waste your time on freak? Id suggest you get another hobby,” he said, passing the book over to the rest of the group. The men laughed as she tried to fight them back for the book, terrified of her work being harmed, and of what he would see. They were all she had to express herself, they were the most important possession and she ended up punching one of the jocks in the face to try and get it back.

“Feisty,” the larger boy had said before walking towards her, cornering her effectively, fists clenched and then they were raised to hit back before in a flash someone was on the jocks back, pulling him away from her. There was a scuffle, the girl darted out of the corner to help, now able to see Jughead in the scuffle. When the fight broke apart he had stooped down to help her pick up the drawings, the ones that had fluttered out of the sketchbook and been stomped on, the ones that the team had torn out in attempts to pass the book around too roughly, the ones from the very back of the book that she had never intended anyone to ever see. In these he could see small snippets of her life, and learned too much.

She could only face him with a cold glare as she finished picking them up before the two of them had to sit across from each other in the principals office. She said nothing, fear in her heart over what he must have seen. Drawings of her life that she had been so careful to show no one. An image of her mother, staring blankly at the television screen. An image of her father, sleeping and surrounded by beer bottles, as a look of near peace crossed his face. Her art was her memoir. The good and the bad in her life, she had always drawn. And he had just seen it.

At the end of the meeting with the principal she quickly left, and Jughead watched her go, a look of more intense confusion in his eyes as he did. He saw her again at Pop’s, working at the counter and serving tables. He again said nothing, until she slid into his booth, a sigh falling from her lips, and a look of annoyance and sadness on her face.

“Please tell no one, I don’t think that the Jocks will do anything, hell I dont even think they saw the ones you saw. They were just trying to laugh, theyre too stupid to think to do anything, and they wouldn’t ruin their reputations on saying anything about it. I know they’ll be silent, but I need you to do the same,” she had said and he frowned, closing the laptop.

“We all have our secrets, yours wont be told. I just want to know why?” He asked, brows furrowing down.

“Saying things will make it worse. I don’t want to make things worse for me or for them,” was all she said and he nodded.

“Whatever you want, not my secret to tell,” he said and she sighed in relief. “Thank you,” she said softly before continuing to work. Jughead stayed true to his word, not breathing a word of what he had seen upon the sketchpad pages to anyone. She was grateful for it, and soon found herself comfortable enough to begin spending her breaks in the booth, sitting across from him in silence as she drew more images.

“Theyre actually quite good you know,” he said, his eyes not wavering from the computer screen in front of his face.

“Your art, you have talent,” was all he said and she let a small smile appear on her lips.

“Thanks, your writing is quite good as well. Ive heard it in class,” she said and he smirked.

“Its nothing compared to what I’m working on,” he said and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

“Ah yes, the famous novel. Ive heard rumour you were writing it,” she said and saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Im sure it will be great,” she said before the pair lapsed into another comfortable silence. That was all they needed, and that was the spark to (Y/N)’s first friendship.

She hadnt known it then, but she would open up to him in the months afterwards. The two never spoke of their home lives, but they swiftly became good friends. The two clicked, and he slowly allowed her to open up to him as she felt comfortable. The two became best friends, clicking in ways that none of the rest of the group had matched with him, and they both suffered from one thing. Their feelings growing deeper.

It took a long time to convince (Y/N) to join the group of friends, but when she did Jug couldn’t keep that small smile off of his face. He was proud of her for giving it a shot, and was glad that the rest of the group had seemed to like her a lot. Not as much as he did, but nearly. And she found that while she had never known it, she had always craved this. This sense of normalcy, and this feeling of acceptance. She had not felt like this since her sister’s passing, this feeling of just being a kid. She began to hang out with the group more and more, cherishing the fact that she had become part of the sad breakfast club.

She had not allowed any of them to see her art, except for Jughead, who would critique her and help her grow as an artist, just as she would help him edit and fix the novel.

But their feelings remained unspoken until a couple months after she had joined their little group of misfits.Things had been getting worse in her home, her mother and father when they werent passed out drunk or stoned, they were fighting. Screaming at each other and being violent, which she thankfully was rarely apart of. All she dealt with was cleaning up the aftermath, until the day her father had seen her with Jughead.

“Is that your boyfriend?” He had slurred, pointing out the window as the black haired male left the property and the girl had blinked.

“No, just a friend dad,” she said, biting back the comment that, oh for once he had remembered she had existed.

Her father had barked out a laugh, “Little thing like you shouldn’t have any friends, such a nuisance you are, not like your sister was. She was a good girl, never any trouble, unlike you,” he said and she bit her tongue, trying to hold back her own tears.

“I know she wasn’t dad, she was a good girl,” she said softly as she started to clear away the beer bottles in front of the older man. She grabbed a half full one and his hand flashed, a burning sensation across her cheek.

“Not fucking finished with that you fucking ungrateful bitch,” he said and went back to drinking it. It was the physical abuse that was her breaking point. It got worse from there, constantly showing up to school with new bruises and having to hide them from her friends. It hurt her, she had only just began to open up to them, and new secrets had formed. It pained her more because in that time she had had Jughead open up to her about the drive in. He had told her everything and she had hugged him gingerly, guilt gnawing at her insides because he trusted her enough with this secret, and she didn’t trust him enough with her own. In part it was her undeniable issues with trust, but it was also her not wanting to be a burden on him. He had enough that he was struggling with, and she always thought that she would be able to deal with her shit without piling it on him as well.

From then on when things became too much she would spend some nights at the drive in, whenever she could she would escape and pass out on the mattress beside her best friend after they had stayed up late, watching movies and doing their own thing, taking comfort simply from each other’s presence.

She hit her breaking point after a year of it when her father had beaten her until she knew there would be no hiding it. As much as she had loved her parents, she couldn’t do it anymore. she hobbled up to her room and collected everything of value. Her art was packed into her bag, with clothing for the night. She would go to Betty or Ronnie in the morning, she would get them to go with her to talk to Kevin. She would need all the strength of her new found friends to approach the sheriff about what was happening. But with them by her side she knew she would be able to do it. She just needed help, and she knew she wouldn’t survive if she kept it going like this any longer. When she had enough for a couple of days she snuck out the window as best she could and limped her way to the drive in, where she knocked on the door. Jughead answered the door, pyjamas on, hair a mess, bleary eyed and exhausted.

“(Y/N)? What are you-“ he started before immediately waking up as he saw the bag in her hand and the bruises on her face. She broke down sobbing at that point and he held her, leading her inside the projector room and holding her in his lap as he mumbled words of comfort to her. He promised her it would be ok, that he was there for her, he held her like a glass doll until she fell asleep in his arms. He was pissed she had waited so long to tell him, but he would yell at her later for holding it back. He would scold her and call her an idiot when she wasnt the broken mess he was holding. He would give her hell, just in some time.

He couldn’t sleep though, and he just stared at her, admiring her face and holding her tighter when she seemed to begin to have a nightmare. He couldnt sleep knowing that this had been going on and he hadnt been able to stop it, that she hadnt felt she could come to him. He pressed a soft kiss to her head that night as he thought she was asleep, mumbling ever so softly about how much he loved her and how he would never let her get hurt again.

What he didn’t know, was that she was in fact awake, and listening to every word. She blinked and looked up at his face as the word love fell from his lips and she watched the colour drain from him, as he began to stutter out an apology and an excuse. She shut him up by kissing his lips, savouring the feeling of his soft ones against her slightly chapped ones. His hands cupped her face as they kissed each other passionately, trying to say the unsaid things through it.

“I love you too Juggie,” she had mumbled as she pulled away and he had smiled softly, resting his forehead against hers.

“You should know its rude to eavesdrop,” he said softly and she rolled her eyes.

“And its pointless to talk to people when they arent listening,” she said and he let out another one of his small smiles. From that point on they were a couple, and he helped her the most when it came time to talk to their friends. They arrived hand in hand on Veronica’s doorstep, Betty and Kevin joining the noirette in answering the door.

“I knew it! My ship is sailing!” Kevin had said dramatically as he flailed his hands and stared at where Jughead and (Y/N)’s were clasped, not able to see the girls face as her hair was covering it and a hood was up. She had wanted to attract as little attention as she could on the walk to the home, knowing that there would be enough attention later.

“Congratulations guys!” Betty had said before engulfing them both in a crushing hug, that made the couple tense up. The hood and hair though, was something that did not go unnoticed by Ronnie, the tensing the final nail in the coffin to make her ask what was wrong. That was when (Y/N) looked up at her friends, bruises now on full display. The mood turned sour and the girl was ushered inside, where she spilled everything. Her hand firmly clasped in Jughead’s, no one noticing the small act of PDA in that moment. They would talk about this when things were settled, for now, the most important thing was keeping Veronica from killing (Y/N)’s mother and father. Was getting the sheriff on the phone and getting her life sorted out.

Betty and Veronica would join her and Jughead in collecting her things from her home, and she would move in with Ronnie, though they all knew she would more often be spending the time at Jughead’s.

It was hard, but she managed it, and she knew this was the first step in getting better. She would be fine, so long as she had her boyfriend by her side, and her friends at her back. She would continue on, leaning on her support system when she needed it. Her drawings were no longer simply memoirs of a broken youth, but a story of strength. Her art books soon filled with pictures of her friends smiling faces, her boyfriend doing whatever he was doing when the muses struck her, images of them kissing or cuddling that she had seen in the mirror. Images of him hunched over his laptop late at night, of him more than anything. They continued to tell her story, going from rock bottom, right back up to where she, and everyone else deserves to be. They became happier.

======================================================

This is my first one obviously, and I would love to know what people think? Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! Hope you guys enjoyed >.< I’m not totally happy with it, but I’m never happy with anything I write so lets just see how it goes xD

#riverdale #jughead jones #jughead x reader #jughead jones imagine

[absurdvampmuse]

Vanilla Milkshakes

And all I knew was that I was in the mood for something sweet…

Jughead was occupying his usual seat in his typical booth at Pop's Shoppe, fingers flying over the keys of the laptop he has had for too long but still hadn't updated since it functioned just fine as a place to write and store his stories on. With concentration creasing his brow and two now-empty cups of the coffee that Pop always freely supplied Jughead with within reaching distance, was how Betty found him. She had spotted him instantly, his colorless ensemble and crown beanie standing out amongst the pops of color and cliques of friends. Betty debated for a few fleeting seconds whether she should seek out his company, but Jughead's particular dose of reclusion was exactly what she wanted. So, she made her way over to him and slid into the booth across from him without making her presence known beforehand or asking.

Jughead's head tilted up only the slightest amount as he regarded the fair-haired and fair-skinned girl, noticing the minor pout her lips held, the redness that lingered in her eyes and the way she kept her limbs close to her body as if she could turn herself invisible by simply doing so. She held onto the silence, not disturbing him until he was ready, something he had always appreciated dearly when it came to her. Finally, after finishing the paragraph in front of him, Jughead met Betty's eyes over his laptop, hands already at the top of the screen so he could push it closed. "You're not looking so lively over there, Betts. What's the matter?"

She pulled up her shoulders, shrugging off whatever she was dealing with because she was having second thoughts about burdening him with it. It was right there in her body language and blue eyes that have always been overly expressive. It still annoyed him to no end when she backpedaled like this. "I don't want to interrupt your creative process."

He closed his laptop with a roll of his eyes. "You wouldn't have sought me out if that had indeed been your intention. Now, tell what it is that has managed to steal your sunshine away."

He didn't formulate it as a question, but more as a demand, knowing that this was the best way to incite her.

Betty crossed her arms on the table, resting her chin on them as she looked up at him, a miserable look dulling the bright blue of her eyes. "I'm not sure how much of this you actually want to hear."

Jughead leaned one elbow on the table, cupping his hand and making a 'bring it on' gesture with his fingers. "Give it to me anyway."

She sighed, lifting her head from her arms. "So, I don't know if you know this, but I've basically had this crush on Archie ever since I was old enough to have them, crushes," she blurted out without taking a breath.

One of his eyebrows quirked up in amusement, though he managed to keep a serious expression on his face. "You holding a torch for the town's heartthrob is news to me."

She narrowed her eyes at the blatant sarcasm in Jughead's voice. Flattening her palms against the table, she made to get up. "Never mind," she murmured. "Happy writing," she added as a lackluster afterthought while getting up. She tapped her nails against the hard surface a few times as she stood there, lost in thought as if she already forgot what she was doing.

The guilt hit him instantly and he cursed silently at himself for not being able to read people better and recognizing the idiosyncrasies that made up Betty Cooper, even though he knew that he was simply not paying enough attention. He felt an influx of disappointment skitter down his spine and his body reacted on impulse as his hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around Betty's wrist, keeping her right where she was. "I'll attempt to reign in my sardonic nature," he offered up somewhat apologetically. "Stay?"

She bit her lip, considering him. In the end, she only nodded and sat back down, crossing her arms and not looking at the boy who had hair so dark it reminded her of a starless night. The lack of light had always suited him. "I know we're only friends because of Archie, but I need you to not be biased."

The words weren't meant to cut as deep as they did, reminding Jughead only of how much his friendship with Archie had changed in the course of months. People weren't always what they seemed, too many sides to them to truly know them unless they bared them candidly and willingly. He scoffed. "And risk my integrity. Plus, you forget that Archie and I aren't exactly besties anymore, though that's a story for another time."

Betty didn't react to his words the way he had expected. She didn't ask for clarification of any kind. She merely stored the information for later and continued on. "I told him, Juggy. About how I feel, everything, just put it all out there."

"His reaction?" Jughead inquired, surprised to find that he didn't have to feign his interest in the answer. Deep inside there was a faint throb that echoed through his entire body, keeping the lines of his body taut as he sat there, waiting.

"Isn't it obvious?" Betty used both hands to indicate at herself and the hints of the distressed state she had been in minutes before walking in here. "He loves me." She shrugged. "But as his closest friend, nothing more. And if I'm being honest with myself, I knew it. I should've just kept my mouth shut." She looked down while wrapping her arms protectively around herself as if it could shield her heart. Betty quickly blinked away the tears.

A feeling of dread wrapped its metaphorical digits around his heart, squeezing hard enough for the pain to resonate. He focused on that emotion instead of on the relief he also felt at her words. "You shouldn't regret being honest," Jughead told her gently. "Yeah, you went out on a limb, but with all the time you two spend together and the mixed signals Archie tends to give off, I don't blame you for wanting to know where you stand."

"In the friendzone, apparently," Betty chided herself. Tears formed once again and she ducked her head quickly, wiping the droplets from her cheeks as they fell.

"You'll be alright in the end. You're strong," were the words of comfort Jughead contributed in a somewhat ungraceful matter since alleviating somebody's pain wasn't something he did often or well. He tended to run. But it was Betty and she didn't waver when it came to standing up for everybody but herself, so she needed him to try for her.

Betty nodded. "I know, I just hate having to be sometimes."

"Understandable." He granted her a timid smile.

Betty nodded again, taking a deep breath. She was about to thank Jughead for listening, but she wasn't permitted the chance to.

"Hey bae," were the words thrown at her by none other than Reggie, the prime colors of his jacket a bright contrast to Jughead's gray tones and Betty's pastel tints.

One of Jughead's eyebrows shot up in, eyes torn from the blond in front of him.

Betty's jaw tightened and her lips pressed together for a split second, annoyed by the football player's sudden and unwanted presence. She tolerated Reggie because how could she downright loathe him for simply being an athlete and popular when Archie was those things as well. Still, she tended to only interact with him when directly spoken to and only when part of a group, which typically included Archie or Veronica. The irony wasn't lost on her, especially considering how seamlessly her appearance allowed her to slip into a stereotype of her own.

"Don't call me that," Betty retorted, aware of how halfhearted it really sounded. Reggie was a nuisance but mostly harmless.

Reggie directed a wide grin at Betty while signaling to both her and Jughead with his index finger as he formed his own conclusion, "You two on a date or something?"

Jughead rolled his eyes. "Because it's impossible for a male and female to form and sustain a platonic relationship." And he truly meant what he was saying, although he also heard the feelings that were lurking near the surface.

"Uh, one always ends up humping the other," Reggie pointed out, the sarcasm lost on him.

"That's quite the imagery there, Mantle," Jughead replied, sharing a quick look with Betty.

The blond let out an exasperated sigh, though managed to hold on to her characteristic composed demeanor. "We're not on a date, Reggie. Just hanging out. Is there something we can help you with?"

Jughead shook his head at her, but it was a fruitless gesture. Reggie had already taken the opening, his grin expanding. "Maybe you can," he said, sliding into the booth next to Betty while slinging one arm around the back so it was resting behind her. "As you know I am quite a popular commodity amongst the ladies."

"In your humble opinion," Jughead remarked.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about that, Forsythe," the other boy shot back, although he didn't spare a look in Jughead's direction, his focus instead on Betty. "But the pool's looking a little shallow these days and then I came to the realization that we," he paused to point at Betty and then at himself, "never went out before."

Betty straightened in her seat as she felt Reggie's fingers toying with the edges of her ponytail. Her blond locks slipped from his hold. "I don't date much."

"Well, you should," Reggie voiced his opinion. "You're hot, Betty. You think you're hiding it from us with all those clothes…"

"It's a blouse and a pair of jeans," Betty specified.

Reggie ignored her words and she wondered if he was indeed so clueless or that he was merely steering the conversation so that he would ultimately get what he came for. "Showing a little skin is preferable, just putting it out there for our date."

He ended with a smile that was charming enough and was meant to disarm, but Betty was jaded. She knew the intent behind his shiny exterior and was holding out for something more, even though she also recognized that this wasn't one of those romance novels she sometimes indulged in. "I'm not going out with you, Reggie," she declared to him candidly.

"Come on, Betty," Reggie tried again, leaning in a little closer to her while his gaze turned too leering for her comfort. "I'll make it worth your while."

She placed a hand on his chest, stopping him from thrusting himself into her personal space even further. "I think I'll pass," she said with just a tad more force behind her words.

Reggie's expression was incredulous as he took in what she was saying. "Is it cause of Forsythe here." He cocked his thumb at the beanie-donning teenager. "Because I always thought he preferred the—"

"You would," Betty cut him off sharply.

Reggie's eyes widened and the lines of his body tensed. "Someone's getting defensive." He nodded. "I see what's going on here. Does Archie know? Or are you double dipping, Cooper?" He clucked his tongue, leaning in close once more so only Betty could hear the following words. "So prim and proper when you're secretly a real sl—"

The word never fully formed, something Betty was grateful for because she would have lashed out, even though they were only intended to hurt at the moment and didn't really hold any meaning at all. Jughead got up and had his hands on Reggie's jacket before the other boy could react, pulling him from the booth with unexpected force. "That's enough," Jughead announced, letting go of Reggie the instant the boy was on his feet, a firm believer that violence only exacerbated situations. "She said no, so take the hint and meander off."

"Whoa whoa." Reggie put up both of his hands. "No need to get handsy. Save it for your girlfriend," he added with a wink. He adjusted his jacket. "If you need any pointers, come find me." He chuckled, giving Betty one final look before walking off.

Jughead waited until Reggie had left the diner before sitting back down.

"Thanks, Juggy," Betty acknowledged. "For listening as well, and not picking a side," she finished the list.

Jughead nodded, smiling at her.

Betty's face revealed a wisp of a smile as well, one she tried to get the attention off of by lowering her gaze and reaching for a menu. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Unless you have to get back to your writing, of course."

"I can make time," Jughead gave her the answer she was hoping for, not ready yet to leave his company.

Betty's eyes didn't so much as skim the menu since she knew it by heart. She put it back in its place while signaling one of the waitresses. "A large basket of fries and two milkshakes." She eyed Jughead.

"I've always been prone to vanilla." A vanilla milkshake had never tempted Jughead as much as it did right at this moment.

"Two vanilla milkshakes, please," Betty continued, unable to hide the faint pink color that had spread to her cheeks.

Something about Jughead's words felt intimate as if they were meant to contain more than a simple milkshake flavor. As if the flavor was somehow associated with her. All she could picture were his lips around the straw and she didn't know where to look.

Therefore, after their order came, both Betty and Jughead sipped their milkshakes and ate their fries in a contemplative silence, his mouth full of vanilla and her mind full of him.

#Bughead #betty/jughead #betty x jughead #jughead jones #betty cooper #fanfiction