#dealing with a little writer's block & school stress/guilt but i try

[rosesradio]

daily writing update

ivory rain: 514

ivory rain total: 53,103

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter eleven

genre: angst, fluff

pairing: season 10 spencer reid x oc

warnings: brief and non-descriptive mention of nonconsensual sex, alcohol consumption

word count: 7k

summary: amelia and spencer are forced apart too early in the morning, right at the start of a very important week.

i sincerely apologize for taking two months to update. school has started again and i haven’t been mentally well, not to mention a nasty case of writers block. so here’s the final filler chapter before shit goes down ;)

as usual, if you would like to be added to the taglist or taken off of it, just send me a message!

SPENCER

The light pouring in from the open windows wakes me up before my ringing phone does. My eyes squint in an attempt to adjust to the brightness as I grab my phone as quickly as possible. I glance down at Amelia on my chest just to make sure she wasn’t woken up. She shifts a bit and moves closer to me but doesn’t open her eyes, thankfully. Just as I suspect, Garcia tells me that we have a case and I need to get to the office ASAP. I thank her and hang up.

“Don’t go,” Amelia murmurs, winding her arms tighter around my waist. “You’re so warm. Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” I pull her closer before I even think about getting up, peppering her face with kisses to make up for having to leave so early in the morning. “If you send me a picture of you drinking tea then I’ll do the same with my coffee, and that’ll make up for the cafe date we won’t have today.”

She smiles, returning a kiss to my cheek, all she can muster up in her sleepy haze. “Sure thing.”

Amelia rolls off of me and gives me the room to get up and start getting dressed. I bustle around her bedroom in search of my clothes and any clean socks. I resort to going through Amelia’s closet and grab the socks she has previously stolen from me. I make a mental note to wash and return them to her. I move on to brush my hair and teeth and when I come out of the bathroom, Amelia is holding my phone out for me so I won’t forget it. 

“Do you know when you’re gonna be home?” She tucks her head into her pillow and bats her eyelashes, giving me this soft smile that makes it exponentially harder to leave without guilt eating me alive. 

But the guilt grows and grows when Amelia’s face starts to fall. Obviously, she wanted an immediate answer of me assuring that I’ll be home in a few hours. But I can’t promise that. We both know that. That doesn’t make it hurt less for Amelia though, especially when tomorrow is so important.

“I don’t know,” I crouch down beside the bed, bringing my hand through Amelia’s hair. Her smile returns and her eyelids flutter, “and I can’t ensure that I’ll be home for tomorrow either. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a smile that I’ve seen too many times for my liking. Fake, disappointed, upset. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll have other anniversaries.”

“But this is our one year anniversary. I’ve never dated a girl for a whole year before! It’s a big deal for me!”

Amelia giggles, reaching for my hand in her hair and bringing it to her lips. “And I’ve never dated a boy for a whole year either. It’s a big deal for me too, but we’ll celebrate a different day.”

“But I’ll be damned if I don’t get back for your exhibit next week. I’ll be there.” 

“It’ll be open for a month, you-”

“But the opening night is a big deal. And I’m gonna be there,” Amelia holds her hand up, pinky out, and tries to keep her eyes from drooping closed again. I wrap my pinky around hers, “I promise.” 

Amelia smiles one more time, a genuine smile, and kisses my knuckles one more time. “Get going, dove. Don’t be late.” She straightens my tie for me and smooths down the shoulder pads on my cardigan. “Tell everyone I say hi. And be careful, please.”

“I will, I always am.”

“That scar on your neck says otherwise.” I roll my eyes at her. “Head out, my favorite crimefighter.”

“I think you’re spending too much time with Garcia,” I quip, leaning over the bed yet again to give her a kiss. “Go back to bed, Lia.”

“How can I when you’re right in front of me and you look so good?” Amelia smirks, although she is far too tired to even keep her smile up for too long.

“Don’t try and seduce me. Go to sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too, Doctor.”

I give Amelia a final kiss and grab my go-bag, leaving as quickly as I can so I don’t give myself the option to run back to bed and scoop Amelia up and kiss her all over. We spent all night last night in bed and I would love to recreate those events this morning, but the serial killers of America have apparently decided that they choose now to split us up. Just wonderful. Exactly what I needed, actually. I make it to one year with the love of my life and we can’t even spend it together. 

Amelia will be stuck at home or she’ll be stressing over her exhibit and I’ll be off in some random state, chasing another killer and comforting another victim. And then, of course, there’s her exhibit. She has been working on these pieces for longer than we’ve been together and I know she is proud of what she created. When Amelia invited me to the gallery, she was so excited and overjoyed for me to come and see her work, albeit a little bit nervous too. But she has had this on her calendar for as long as I’ve known her and has texted me reminders and sneak peeks of pieces and talked my ear off at dinners and cafe dates and phone calls. No matter how many times she smiles at me, I know she is upset that there’s a chance I can’t make the opening night. 

“Kid? What’s going on in there?” Morgan presses his finger into my temple, bringing me out of my blonde-haired, blue-eyed reverie and alerting everyone on the jet of my current state of mind. I swat Morgan’s hand away and try to return to the open book in my lap.

“Oh, come on,” Rossi encourages Morgan’s incredibly annoying behavior. “We can all see that there’s something going on in your head. Case related?”

“No,” I flip the page despite not having read anything on that page.

“So,” JJ joins in, “is it about your home life? Amelia, perhaps?” 

When I stay silent, everybody gets their answer.

“Oh, no, trouble on the home front?” Kate pouts in a way that feels like she’s mocking me. “I’m sure we’d be happy to help you nurse the situation back to happiness.” 

“Yeah, what was it?” Morgan sits down in the seat beside me and throws his arm over my shoulder. “Was she upset you had to leave in the morning before she could get some loving?”

“Chris hates that,” Kate groans and JJ nods along. I open my mouth to respond, to deny that claim, but I get spoken over. “I usually have to do a little bit of extra work to make it up to him.”

“Like,” JJ chokes down a laugh, “being on top extra work?”

“Exactly. Men just wanna lay back, get off without having to work for it, and see women’s boobs. That’s it.” JJ nods along with Kate’s words, and even Morgan is nodding, but that’s not a surprise. My eyes dart behind JJ’s chair and I see Hotch nodding too. 

“That’s clearly not it,” Rossi finally ends the conversation, waving his hands to get them to stop talking. “What’s the issue, Reid?”

“I’ve got another guess,” Morgan pulls back his arms and I think his hands are going to return to his side, but he just snatches the book out of my hand and tosses it aside. “She caught you looking at another girl and now you’re in the doghouse.”

JJ groans even louder than before. “I catch Will looking at other women all the time! It’s so frustrating. Like, hello? Your wife is right in front of you, she’s looking wonderful, and she has sex with you whenever you ask! Why are you looking at other women?” This catapults JJ, Kate, and Morgan into an argument about can people still find others attractive while in a relationship, and I’m glad they are off in their own world. 

Somehow, that ‘guess’ from Morgan hurt more than the first one, and JJ’s comments just don’t make sense. Sure, I still find others attractive but I have Amelia so I don’t even need to look for more than two seconds. I’ve caught Amelia doing the same a few times and it doesn’t even need to be a conversation. It’s human nature. And why is JJ having intercourse with Will ‘whenever he asks?’ That’s not right. Both people involved should be happy and in the mood. A few weeks ago, Amelia was in the mood but I was too tired after work, so we just went to sleep. End of story. Why is JJ having sex whenever she is asked? That doesn’t make any sense. It’s all so confusing. I don’t understand any of this. How did I make it a whole year with Amelia? How has she dealt with me for 365 days? 

The arguing gives me something to distract myself with for a little bit, all the way until the plane lands in Miami. I’m lost in thought about the hoard of stupid arguments instead of the ways I’m disappointing Amelia this week. I’m thankful for that, but not so thankful about the accusations from Morgan. 

“Oh shit,” Morgan chuckles as we climb into an SUV, “we never got to talk about your relationship issues, pretty boy. We will on the way home.”

I settle into my seat, putting on my seatbelt and crossing my arms over my chest. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”

“We all know that you’re not really a relationship man,” Morgan continues, and the heat instantly rushes to my cheeks. I’m not a relationship man? What exactly does that mean? “But you know that we’re always gonna be here when you need help with your lady. We’ve all got experience in relationships. We can share our wisdom with you.” 

“Okay,” I respond weakly, “thanks.”

///

AMELIA

///

I stare back at my reflection in the mirror, ridiculing my outfit to no end. Should I have worn an expensive, sparkly dress instead of my double denim jacket and skirt and a turtleneck? But the patterned denim is cool, right? Should I wear a white turtleneck instead of this cream one? Would my silver jewelry look better than my gold jewelry? Should I have left my hair down instead of in this bun? Nothing seems right. Everything is wrong. 

“Lia?” Jenna says. “You’re spacing out.”

I shake my head, ending my self-deprecating daydream and giving her a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I was just wondering if I should change or not.”

“I love your outfit. I think it’s perfect. But if you’re gonna change then do it quickly because we have to leave in,” she checks the clock, “two minutes.”

My outfit is fine, right? Potential buyers won’t look at my outfit and decide not to purchase my work, right? Why the hell am I even stressing so much about something as insignificant as my outfit? 

“Let’s just go before I wind up going naked because I can’t make up my mind on an outfit.” I grab my bag and camera and rush out the door with Jenna at my side, jumping on the train and heading a few blocks away.

The exhibit is already set up when we arrive and for the first time all day, maybe even all week, I actually get excited. My day has been nothing but pure fear and anxiety, nothing close to excitement. But standing here with all my work surrounding me, I finally allow myself to smile. 

“Here you go, my love,” Jenna shoves a wine glass into my hand, drinking her own and looking around. “You’ve outdone yourself with this one, babe. This is truly the best work you’ve produced. I guess falling in love really did have a positive effect on your work.” My cheeks turn red but I hide it with a sip of my wine. “And speaking of love, have you heard from Spencer today?”

“No,” I shake my head, “but I’m sure he’s incredibly busy. When we talked yesterday, they hadn’t closed the case yet.”

The echoey room goes silent for a moment as I distract myself in making sure my artwork is in the right order. I know they are because I was the one who put them in the correct order yesterday, but I just don’t want to face this inevitably sad conversation.

“I’m sorry. I know you want him here.” Jenna gives me an unsure smile. "It’s a shame but I look forward to hearing what he has to say about your art. I mean, I know he'll love it, but he's obviously a little smarter than the rest of us so I'm sure he'll have smart things to say about your pieces and-"

"Yeah," I take another long drink, "I'll let you know."

Some time passes and the exhibit finally opens. Hoards of people show up, including my group of friends. They're incredibly nice and supportive and rave about my work, and it makes me wonder if they'd be any different if Spencer were here. Those thoughts don’t last too long because Beth shows up with her bosses, telling me that after we met at Rossi’s dinner, she talked me up to her bosses about my work and they insisted on coming tonight. She apologizes for the team being away but I brush that off and tell her to enjoy herself. Maybe I should take that advice. 

"Miss Amelia Stark!" I gasp and turn around at the sound of my name, a grin forming on my face.

"Oh my gosh, Penelope!" I grin, immediately pulling her into a hug. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working the case?"

"We closed it," she exclaims, holding my shoulders tightly and shaking just a bit too harsh. "Those lovely people closed their case and we did our paperwork and they're on their way back and so I put this cute dress on and rushed my butt here because I didn't wanna miss your opening!"

"Oh, Penelope," I sigh, hugging her yet again, "you're the sweetest ever. Thank you so much for coming."

"The team all said they wanted to come but I'm not sure when their flight is gonna get in. Spencer was really upset about-"

"It's okay," I cut her off, pulling away and shaking my head. "The exhibit will be open for a month and they can come by whenever. It's fine. Get a drink, come on!"

I drag her over to the bar and she goes running off to find Beth, then just a few minutes later, she's chatting with some other people. I catch her talking to a consistent buyer of mine, a very rich and powerful politician who never spends long at exhibits. He just finds what he wants and leaves. I love Penelope but she has a personality that not everyone can handle. However, when I keep watching them, I realize she is talking me up and trying to convince him to buy more than one piece, and it seems to be working. I remind myself to give her a big thank you later on. 

Another hour passes and everyone seems to be enjoying the exhibit. I make my rounds and chat to everyone I find, and as the night goes on, I feel my mood coming down. The adrenaline from my excitement has worn off and I’m just left absolutely exhausted with my social battery on low. I’m left with the weight of my necklace on my chest, an empty wine glass, and a room full of people who are expecting something from me. I’ve never quite been able to figure out with that something is.

I lean against the wall at the back of the room, staring out at everyone. They’re staring at my work and probably critiquing my life’s work. But the longer I stare, the more my eyesight warps. And all I’m left with is some sick vision of a beautiful blonde woman holding the hand of a little boy, pointing at a painting of purple butterflies, and giggling in the infectious way toddlers do. It’s painful. I used to burst into laughter with him, but now the echoing sound only brings tears to my eyes. My hand comes up to my neck, fiddling with the butterfly. 

I wish my mom were here. I wish I could see the look on her face when she sees my work, and I wish she would criticize my drawing skills, and I wish she could meet Spencer, and I just wish she were here. And I wish my brother were here so I could remind him to be quiet and I wish he could question the meaning behind my paintings as I hold his hand while leading him around the room and I wish he could rave about Star Wars with Spencer. I want a supportive family to hug me and praise me and cheer for me when a painting gets bought. I want my family.

"Amelia?"

My head pops up to find Spencer standing in front of me, eyebrows furrowed and hands in front of him, reaching towards me. My eyes widen, almost in disbelief, and I stand up straighter. "Oh my god, you're here!" I throw my arms around his shoulders and he lifts me off my feet in a hug, squeezing my waist. "The way Penelope was talking, it seemed like the flight would take too long,"

"It wasn't too long, I'm here now. What's wrong? Are you okay?" Spencer mumbles into my shoulder, pulling away to give me that same concerned look I always give him when he gets home from a case.

"I'm okay," I try to give him a convincing smile, but he sees right through me.

"Do I need to point out all the reasons why that's clearly a lie?" Spencer retorts. Without asking how the case went, I search his face for injuries. Penelope would have told me if anyone got hurt, especially if Spencer did, but I guess I'm a creature of habit. I always have to make sure he’s okay. "Amelia, baby, I'm fine." He pulls my hands away from his face and holds them in his.

"Guess what? I am too," I give him a better smile than before, twisting my head to kiss his cheek to end the conversation. I debate on promising I'm fine, but I know that's an abuse of something we hold so close to our hearts. Promising is special to us and I don't want to ruin it by lying on it. "Is the team here?"

"Yeah, they grabbed a drink and started looking around. I'm pretty sure they found Penelope and I'm pretty sure she's a little drunk," Spencer is already smiling and it makes me feel better to know he's dropping the subject I clearly don't want to talk about.

"Yeah, I know. I told her to stop drinking and she ran away from me so I’m not sure if she actually did. But I'm glad everyone is here, I wanna say hi before they leave."

"Will you bring me around?" Spencer asks, pulling me close again and already leading me to the beginning of the exhibit. "I know I could just walk the exhibit myself but I'd love an inside scoop from the talented artist herself.”

As Jenna has poked fun at before, Spencer truly has something intelligent to say about every single piece we look at. He can see all the metaphors and symbols in my pieces, but I wonder if that's because he understands art in general or because he knows me too well. But no matter what the reasoning is, his praise and love and comments mean the world to me. If Spencer hated this exhibit then I would have to spend the rest of my days trying to create one that he actually likes.

It takes us a while to get through the exhibit, almost an hour, but the final piece is on the back wall and that's where we end up, holding hands as we stare up at the perfectly arranged pieces of folded paper on the wall.

"So," I murmur, "it's a-"

"A dove," Spencer interrupts, "and it's made out of paper. This is what you destroyed Rossi's books for?"

"Among other books. Mostly books about profiling and crime and serial killers. I printed out a lot of newspapers you've been quoted in, your dissertation, and just things you've written so those are mixed in there. So yeah, this one's about you, dove."

"I love it," Spencer quips, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "I love the whole exhibit if it wasn't obvious enough. Everything is just- it's beautiful. I want this one in my apartment. Wanna hang it up in the living room."

"Well," I move to wrap my arms around his waist, staring up at him, "this one isn’t for sale, not like all the others. So, you know, maybe, one day, when we get a house of our own and we have space, we can put it up."

Spencer grins, fiddling with one of the curls framing my face. "Sounds like a plan."

"Can we interrupt the moment?" Rossi's voice breaks us apart, and I turn my head to find the BAU team approaching with smiles on their faces.

"Hi everyone! Thank you so much for coming! I'm sure you're all really tired after the case and-"

"We wouldn't miss it for the world, kid," Rossi says, pulling me into a hug. "The exhibit is absolutely wonderful. Genuinely some of the best artwork I’ve seen."

"It's amazing. I sure as hell can't do anything like this," Morgan chuckles, gesturing around to the art on the walls. "It's really impressive."

"Well, thank you, guys. I'm really glad you're all here, it means a lot."

"Hey, Dr. Genius!" Jenna is suddenly at my side, giving a small wave to Spencer and then the team, almost spilling her wine, which means she's probably drunk. The team laughs at the nickname as I easily take the drink from her hand, keeping her from drinking any more. "Hey, Lia, Robbie is here and he wanted me to tell you he says six."

"Alright," I sigh and send a smile to the team, wrapping my arm around Jenna’s waist to keep her upright, "I've gotta go deal with some stuff but I'll see you guys later and if I don't, thank you for coming and get home safe."

I squeeze Spencer's hand once more before heading off, searching for Robbie, an old friend of mine who frequently buys my art. We chat for a while and when I turn my head to search for Spencer, I find that he's talking to my friend group. Jenna is there too but that does nothing to calm my anxiety since she is far too drunk to be in this setting. God only knows what they could be talking about. They could be scaring him away or Spencer could be subtly telling them off or literally anything could be going on. But then Spencer is smiling and laughing and it makes me relax, but it doesn't make me wonder any less what the topic of conversation is.

Time rolls on and eleven gets closer, which means the exhibit starts to clear out. By twelve, most pieces have been bought and the room has emptied. Spencer sticks around, thankfully, and sees everyone off. I'm thankful that he lets me hang on him when everyone leaves, and he catches my waist as I fall into his arms at the end of an incredibly long night.

"Do you have to do this every night for a month?" Spencer asks, hands clutching my waist to keep me up, his voice echoing off of the white walls.

"No, no," I shake my head, steadying myself on my feet and nuzzling my nose against his neck, "I don't have to come every night but I try to come a lot. But the first night is always the most stressful and it's the busiest, as you could see."

Spencer hums, moving his hands to rub up and down my back. "How about we go back to one of our apartments and we order some food? I'm hungry and I'm sure you are too."

"Please. Yes. Absolutely," I agree, practically dragging Spencer out of the room. At the mention of food, my stomach starts grumbling. On the walk back to my apartment, we stop at our favorite diner to pick up dinner.

"Well," Spencer follows me into my apartment, flipping on the main light and kicking off his shoes, "that was something very different than I'm used to, but I really enjoyed it."

"You met my friends," it's too much for me to hold in anymore, but I don't look up as I take my shoes off and shrug off my denim jacket. I just blurt it out and keep my eyes down to avoid this confrontation that I just started.

Spencer chuckles when he takes off his own jacket, hanging it up beside my own. "Yeah, I did. "

I start to head towards the stairs, pausing to make sure he's following me and when he’s on the step right below me, I start my ascent. "And? What'd they say?"

"Do you want the profiler answer or the regular answer?" I genuinely think over that question as I walk up the stairs. Normally, I wouldn't want the profiler answer. But I'm curious what the true intentions of my friends are and I know the profiler answer will give me that. And so, I tell him that. "Well," Spencer begins, reaching across me in my closet for his own clothes, "honestly, they seemed very hesitant to be around me when I first went over to them. Jenna had brought me over and introduced me, and none of them seemed like they really wanted anything to do to me. But we started talking about your art and they started to ask me my interpretation of your pieces like they thought I wouldn't find meaning in any of them. Once I told your friends about some of them, that's when they started to open up and actually be nice."

I roll my eyes and pull out a set of pajamas for myself, stripping myself of my own clothes. "They're so annoying. Spencer, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, not a big deal. Honestly, I've dealt with ruder people who've said worse," Spencer pulls off his sweater and replaces it with another, sitting on the bed when he's changed into his pajamas. "But really, babe, I'm so proud of you. The exhibit was amazing."

Changing my mind on clothes, I grab Spencer’s discarded sweater and put it over my sweatpants. "Thanks, Spence."

"I'm gonna go make some tea. Do you want some?" Spencer runs his hands through his hair and heads towards the stairs, not even waiting for the confirmation he knew he would get from me.

Once I'm completely redressed, I take out my contacts and wrap myself in a blanket, tiptoeing down the stairs. I catch sight of Spencer in the kitchen but I walk right past, opening the unlocked balcony door as quietly as I possibly can. I sneak out and sit down on the armchair there, drawing my knees to my chest and letting out a heavy breath. I try to let out all of the negative energy I’m bottling up, but it doesn’t quite work.

"Amelia," my time outside is short-lived as it usually is because Spencer is interrupting me in just a minute, "I finished the tea, and I put dinner out."

"Okay," I whisper, nodding slowly. I move from the chair and breeze past my boyfriend, into the kitchen where there are two cups of tea and containers from the diner. I hear Spencer close and lock the balcony door before closing the curtain, following me further into my apartment.

I sit on the counter with my box of food in my lap and my cup of tea beside me, Spencer sitting at the island, and awkward silence occupying the other chairs. This silence is so different from the others we’ve sat through. This feels tense and unsure with a bit of fear sprinkled in. I know it’s my fault because I acted so weird at the exhibit, but I just want it to be over. Spencer isn’t saying anything, and it doesn’t seem like he will any time soon, and there’s only one thing I can think of to say to break the painful silence. 

"Um," I keep my eyes down, stabbing my pancake over and over to attempt to make intricate designs with the four holes, "whenever I have exhibits or galleries or showcases, it makes me miss my family."

Spencer is silent for a moment, probably thinking over my words in his head and wondering what the right thing to say is. The joke is on him though because any further conversation is guaranteed to make me cry. There is no right thing to say. Everything is wrong. "Your family? Like, your biological family?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I just-” I actually eat a small piece of pancakes to force down the lump in my throat, “I wish my mom and my brother could see my work. I love my foster family with all my heart but, I just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself," Spencer interjects. "You want your family and there's nothing wrong with that."

I bury my face in my hands, letting out a shaky breath as the tears pour out of my eyes like an uncontrollable flood. I hear the chair scrape against the floor and then feel my takeout box being moved away from my lap, followed by Spencer's warm hands on my legs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I apologize, shaking my head at myself and trying to push him away. "I just-” he grabs my hands, preventing me from hitting his chest, “I don't want you to leave me," I wrap my arms around his shoulders as tight as I can get them, as if squeezing him will ensure that he sticks around forever.

"I don't know how many times I have to remind you that I'm not going anywhere," Spencer whispers back. "I know you've lost a lot of people in your life but I'm not gonna be one of them. Hey, we talked about buying a house today, love. I'm in this for the long haul with you and you know that, right? I'm right here."

"Okay," I mutter, pushing my face in his neck. "Thank you. I’m sorry for making you say that again."

“I’ll tell you whatever you need, as many times as you need it. I’ll never get tired of reminding you how much I love you.”

I smile gently, nodding along to his words, bringing my hands up to his hair. And in the quietest words I can muster up, I say, “okay.”

“Why don’t we,” Spencer turns away and grabs my container that he moved aside, “go eat in bed and then go right to sleep? It’s late and-”

“And you have work tomorrow,” I finish for him, taking the food from his hands and dragging myself to the stairs.

“Actually,” Spencer is at my side in a second, “I requested the day off for tomorrow so we can celebrate our anniversary.”

I whip around, stopping halfway up the stairs and grinning at him. “Really?”

“Really,” he echos, grabbing my waist and walking me up to bed. “I felt really bad about missing it so I ensured that we won’t be interrupted tomorrow. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” I fall back onto the bed and toss my food aside, pulling Spencer on top of me by his tie. “You wanna make it up to me and don’t wanna be interrupted? Did you have anything in mind, Dr. Reid?”

“Maybe a couple of things. I could start making it up to you now.”

“That sounds like a perfect idea.”

///

SPENCER

///

"Spencer?" Amelia shouts from upstairs, her voice faint as I'm lacing on my converse by the front door, already in my jacket.

"Amelia?" I yell back in the same tone, and when I tie off my second shoe, I grab her black heels from the ground before standing. I lean against the door and watch as she comes hurrying down the stairs, socked feet silent as she ties a black ribbon around her curly ponytail.

"Have you seen my shoes? I can't seem to-" she looks up at me holding them out to her and freezes, a smile coming to her face. "You're just the perfect man, aren't you?"

I laugh as she takes them from me, leaning down to step into them. "Just got a pretty good memory."

"Pretty good is underselling yourself, dove," Amelia stands up straight, now a few inches taller as she puts on her small backpack and tucks her keys in her jacket pocket. “Ready to go?”

“Are you?” She sticks her tongue out at me for my sass, taking my hand in hers and dragging me out of the apartment.

There are a million things we could do on our mock anniversary. We spent the whole morning debating what to do and couldn’t even decide. So we decided to do the only thing we could agree on- a cafe date. We decide that we’re going to get coffee and then wander around until we find something to do. It’s really a horrible plan, the worst we could come up with, but it’s fitting. We never make plans because there’s always the potential for my job to ruin them, so no plan today is weirdly perfect and it just makes sense. 

“So,” Amelia chirps as we sit down at our normal table, warm drinks in hand, “How was the case?”

And we just fall into natural conversation after that. I pivot away from the conversation about the case and we talk about the exhibit, then our favorite type of tea, then argue over where we think the best vacation spot would be (Amelia says somewhere in the Caribbean whereas I would want to go Iceland), and then we rehash the argument about what we should do today. Still, no decision. 

And as we’re talking, I glance behind Amelia’s seat and suddenly my attention is off of my girlfriend. A few seats away, there is a couple sitting in a booth. They are sitting on the same side of the table and the girl is curled up at the guy’s side, legs draped over his and her head on his shoulder. She is positively beaming, staring up at the guy with a giant smile on her face. He looks down at her with the same expression and then they kiss, and I can even hear their laughs from here. She looks happy. She looks like Amelia does when we’re together. But I don’t look like that guy and he seems to be doing good with his relationship. I’m not like that. So is Amelia really happy with me, even though she looks at me with stars in her eyes? Maybe not.

“Spence?” Amelia’s voice breaks me away from my staring, and my head snaps over to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I answer too quickly, drinking my coffee and not even grimacing at how hot it is, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” She twists around in her seat to look behind her, to see what I see, but she turns back with furrowed brows.

“Yeah,” I take the last sip of my coffee and stand, holding my hand out for her. “Ready to go?”

Amelia tilts her head to the side like an adorable, confused puppy but takes my hand anyway. We leave the cafe and walk down the street, silence falling over us. I pull Amelia closer to me and she curls into my side, holding onto my arm and laying her head on my shoulder, the same way that girl did to the guy beside her. But she never looks up at me with those stars and my shoulders slump forward, the corners of my mouth pointing towards the ground.

“Ooh!” Amelia points across the street to a bookstore that I frequent. “Let’s go there.” And without giving me a chance, she pulls me off the sidewalk and into the store.

It’s perfectly quiet in the store, hopefully quiet enough to hush the blaring thoughts in my head, and it’s empty too. Amelia wanders off right away, disappearing down an aisle that I never go in. So I look through books alone, picking out a couple and tucking them under my arm. But being alone quickly gets boring so I go searching for my girlfriend.

I first go down the aisle she went down and find her right away, sitting in front of the endcap with her sketchbook in her hands and the pencil flying across the page. Not wanting to interrupt, I sit across from her and put my legs in front of me, right beside hers, and start reading. She puts her left hand on my leg, a silent acknowledgment of my presence, and keeps drawing. 

I try to read but I just can’t focus. I’m too distracted by the sound of Amelia’s pencil and Amelia’s touch and the bow in Amelia’s hair and Amelia’s gorgeous smile and the smell of Amelia’s perfume wafting between us and Amelia’s dress and just Amelia. She is filling my senses so intensely that it’s painful and I have to put my book down before I lose my mind.

“Amelia,” she hums, not even looking up at the sound of my voice. “Am I-” she looks up at the start of my question and her eye contact makes it so much harder to force out my words. “Do you-”

“Do I?” she parrots, waiting for me to finish the allusive question. She looks back down at her sketchbook.

“Have you ever had sex with me when you didn’t want to?”

Her head snaps right back up. “Excuse me?” 

“Like,” I fumble for the right words to explain myself and it all just comes out wrong. “Do you think it’s bad that I still find other people attractive even though we’re dating? I definitely wanna be with you and no one else but does it bother you that I find other people attractive? Because I don’t wanna be disrespectful and if it bothers you then I can try to stop but it might be hard because the chemicals in our brain make-”

“Okay, okay, stop,” Amelia puts her sketchbook down and scoots closer to me, putting her hands on my cheeks. “Spencer, I am insanely confused. What the fuck are you talking about? First, you asked me if I have sex with you when I don’t want to and now you’re talking yourself into not finding other people attractive. Please explain.”

So I recount everything that JJ and Kate said about their husbands and then what Morgan asked about me. The confusion never really leaves her face as I explain but I keep word vomiting, only finding comfort in her warm hands on my face.

“Okay, let me clarify something for you,” she pulls my face closer to hers, so close that I can smell the green tea on her breath. “I have never had sex with you when I didn’t want to. I can promise you that. And you finding other people attractive doesn’t bother me. Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean you go blind around attractive people. It’s okay, Spence. Don’t listen to them. They always try to help but make things so much worse.”

But I’m not convinced, staring down at my hands in my lap, willing away tears so I don’t make a fool of myself in the middle of a bookstore I love so much and in front of the woman who I would lay down my life for. “Do you think I’m bad at relationships?”

“I wouldn’t be dating you if you were,” she responds quick enough for me to actually believe it. “I mean, I hadn’t been in a relationship before you so I don’t really have anything to compare you to. But you make me happy and I love you and that’s all that matters, right?”

“Sure.”

“Spencer, look at me,” my eyes slowly travel up to hers and she presses her lips to mine. Soft, warm, strawberry flavored. But it swiftly makes my pain and confusion and fear melt. I bring my hands to her waist and pull her body against mine, and I feel her smile against my lips. “Now, you listen to me, Doctor Spencer Reid,” I chuckle at her use of my full name, and she grins right back at me, “I love you, okay? I don’t want anyone else. You make me happy. Fuck whatever Morgan and JJ said. What we do in our relationship may not work for them and that’s fine. It works for us and that’s what matters. Do you love me?”

I furrow my brows at her. “Yeah, of course I love you. Why would you-”

“Then that’s the end of the story.”

She drops her arms and grabs her sketchbook, reclaiming her seat against the bookcase across from me. She gets right to work, scribbling away and erasing mistakes. Just like that, with a kiss and two gentle touches, she forces my insecurities away and makes me feel more loved than I ever have before. The woman I’ve spent an entire year with is right in front of me and continuously swears she loves me, the same way I do to her. She doesn’t want to be with anyone else. She only wants me. She might be the only person in the world who wants me. And at this moment, I decide that I’m okay with that. If Amelia is the only person in the world who loves me and wants to be around me, then I can die happy. She is all I need. She is the only one I want.

With one more glance at her enchanting, magnificent, gorgeous smile, I pick up my book and continue reading.

TAGLIST

@bxnnywriting @babybloodstonebones​ @blameitonthenight21​ @feralreid​ @anepiphany​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrrywildflower​ @penemily​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @blakes-dictionxry​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​

[cruzrogue]

Enter My World

Kinda lost steam to this story… It was created because I had writers block for a gift story (Olicity FanArt/Fic Appreciation Exchange) which is called Home is a Gift and the words to this story came easier then. But I still think about it… so here is an update. I have basically the next chapter down. That next chapter will focus on Moira/Felicity (subject to change) like this one was suppose to be more focused on Tommy/Felicity but landed being more Oliver/Felicity.

It also posted on A03

Anyways I hope you like.

previous chapter 5

Chapter 6

Tommy is busy repainting one of the model airplanes his sister gave him. Red and black being the colors he prefers for this one in particular he’s working on and not the sky blue with yellow flowers. He hears the heavy footprints of his best friend entering the workshop off the garage he is using.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Liccy gave me her planes. Repainting them.”

Oliver is looks at the other two planes off to the side with one that is totally painted in different shades of pink another he actually helped paint its grey with blue patches.

“She gave you her planes. Why?”

“Oh dude, you should see her room. It’s like totally empty.” Tommy points to some boxes. “All that is from Felicity’s room. She now trying to get my mom and dad to sign off on her new wardrobe but my parents aren’t haven’t it.”

“What’s in those boxes?”

Dipping his tiny brush into some more red ink he just tells his friend, “Go look for yourself.”

Oliver pushes some boxes around and opens the lid to see some videos. Grabbing one he looks at Tommy who is intently painting slowly not to mess up. “She’s getting rid of all these movies too? She loves them.”

“Loved. Do you think I should put red on the tip of the wings or leave them black?”

“Loved?” Oliver moves to look at another box of stuff so far, he is confused he looks back at Tommy and just says, “Red tips would enhance it better.”

“Cool thanks, and I swear if I believed in pod people, I would so say she’s one of them.”

“Tommy?” Oliver’s voice has a tremble which his best bud doesn’t catch on to. “Can we talk about your sister.”

Tommy stops to now notice his best friend standing a few feet away from him looking expectant of something. “Um sure. I thought we already were?” Seeing his best friend look sheepish kind of already suggests where the subject is heading. “Is this about liking my sister?” The nod Oliver gives answers that question. “Do you still like her? Like, like her?”

“Tommy, I’ve always liked your sister, but yea I care for her a lot and your dad said somethings…”

“My dad? Okay am I the only non-pod person because this is all just weird. When did you have time to talk to my dad? You just got here.”

“I took your sister home from the party.”

“The one you disappeared from. The one your jealousy showed?”

“You saw? Why didn’t you…”

“No! I heard about it! What I didn’t know is that you had a talk with my dad. About Felicity!” His tone a little agitated. “I can deal with guys like Max Fuller, Ollie. What I can’t deal with is my best friend not respecting my wishes.”

“What about what Felicity wants?”

“Really? You, who shunned her. She isn’t your first choice.”

“Are you upset that I chose you over her?”

Tommy looks at the plane he is working on and back at his best friend. “No. I’m not actually mad at you. I’m pissed with myself. I’m the reason she’s miserable.”

“What?”

“Oliver! There are six boxes, six boxes of Liccy’s stuff right there behind you. She stayed with me the night the painters came. Made me promise not to tell anyone and she admitted to me why she really wants to change.” He sighs and admits.

“Are you going to spill?”

Tommy grumbles. “She thinks she’s a dweeb. I mean she is but that isn’t the point. The point is she thinks it.”

Oliver shakes his head his buddy isn’t being much help. “You mind if I go speak to her?”

“If she’ll talk to you. Good luck.”

*****************************************************************************

Oliver has walked up these stairs many times. It is on the way to Tommy’s room which is across from his sister’s room. He stops at the door and he can hear blaring music. Knocking once… twice… three times and waits for acknowledgment. When he doesn’t get any, he knocks again.

“Felicity?”

The music is still blaring and he takes a moment to look at the closed door wondering if he should knock again or leave. Choosing to knock. He bangs his hand against the door and he can hear the sound playing in the room lowering and soon after the door opens.

His mouth drops at the sight. Felicity just looks surprised and says his name.

“What… what are you wearing?”

She looks down at her ensemble before looking at Oliver. “It’s a replica of the school’s cheerleading outfit. I’m going for try outs this coming week.”

“Why?”

“Why? What kind of question is that?”

“I mean.” Oliver is stumped.

“Did you knock on the wrong door? Tommy’s is that one.” She points.

“Funny!” He lets out a Ha. “I came to talk to you.” Now Felicity looks at him weird.

Figuring that it could be the noise so she asks, “Is the music to loud? I’m just practicing.”

“No. Its fine.” Oliver scratches the back of his neck. This is getting ridiculously awkward quickly. “Can I come in?”

“Um…” she looks back at the mess of her room. She nods and steps aside letting him in. “Why are you here?”

Oliver looks around her sparse room devoid of the busy sweetness he has equated to her quirkiness. “What happened in here?”

She blows air from her nostrils she doesn’t need or feel like she needs to explain herself. Especially to a boy she can’t stop crushing on even when she belittles herself for doing it. Shutting the door to her room she turns to him. “Can’t we just leave it to I’m growing up?”

“We can. But…” He thinks a little to get the right words, “Why the drastic change? Did you really give up on everything you use to love?”

“Please tell me you didn’t come here to guilt trip me? I don’t need another brotherly love advice. Tommy is more than enough!” She starts to pick up her discarded clothing around her bed.

“First, I need to apologize. You were right.” Felicity has no clue about what he is talking about and it shows on her face. “But I do think it something that can be fixed.”

“Oliver, what are you talking about?”

“About us.” He lets out a sigh, “About you and I and what we mean to each other.”

“There is no us. Tommy told me that you were serious with some girl, that you couldn’t even go to that event at the science museum so I…”

“I lied to Tommy.” Felicity makes a startled gesture. “I didn’t know how to behave around you and so I lied and told Tommy and I didn’t even think of the consequence I mean him telling you would-be worst-case scenario but…”

“You lied about seeing a hottie? You tell Tommy everything.” Felicity just can’t believe everything she thought about Oliver Queen being in a relationship could be a lie.

“That’s the thing, I told him that I liked you and the chain of events led us away from each other. Felicity, I’m miserable without you in my life.”

“That was your choice.”

“Don’t I know it.” He looks at her bed that’s holding a pile of discarded clothes. Thinking that if she gets her way, she’ll start go the route of being a carbon copy of everyone else. “Won’t the hectic schedule of being a cheerleader interfere with the math club?”

“If… It is a big if, if I can actually pull it off. I choose being a cheerleader over some stupid math thing.”

Oliver is taken back with that and without thinking he sits on her bed. The girl he has known loved all things about mathematics and the world of science. She pulled him in with how she saw the world. Now he truly is puzzled.

“When did math become senseless?”

“When your mom showed me another way. I want what your sisters have.”

“What? Why? I love my sisters but why would you want to be like them? It’s not like Emilia knows what she wants. She’s figuring it all out. She has her own passions.”

“Well at least she isn’t a dork.”

“Whatever you think my mom showed you is just a piece of any puzzle. Gosh Felicity, you have so many good traits that my baby sister is jealous of. Bet you didn’t know that.”

“Oliver! Please you want me to believe…”

“As cute as you look in that uniform.” He’s been trying not to look at her when she moving erratically in her pacing around her room. “I would really appreciate if you stop twirling its distracting.”

“Well that proves my point. My dorky clothes would never get that kind of comment.”

“Oh, you are so wrong!”

“Oliver can you stop lying to me?”

That makes Oliver finally snap. “I’m not. For someone who is changing so much don’t pretend to know me either.” That brings a silent pause. “Listen, I know you are upset with me. I’m sorry I hurt you. Really, I am. But I also can’t sit here and tell you that I like your change because it’s the dork you hate that I miss. The one who could ramble about statistics and have me eating out of her palms. You have no idea how awesome you are.”

“Then why did you stop…”

“I stopped because… because my thoughts of you weren’t…” He stresses this word out hoping she gets it. “Friendly. Your brother could see it. He was, is only interested in keeping you safe. I get that. That is why I stepped back.”

“I don’t get why you need Tommy’s permission for anything. It infuriates me.” That actually gets him to laugh. “It’s not funny.” He continues to chuckle. He figured out Tommy. Tommy placed all that stress on him to see what he would do. It’s weird. Before coming to see Felicity, his best friend told him that he didn’t think his sister would be so heartbroken. He wants her happy but he doesn’t want to see an even higher cost of his sister being hurt in the long run because after all Oliver is still a few years older and interests change.

“Have you actually seen any of this through my perspective?” The look on her face gives him the answer. “Right there is the reason. Felicity, I’m still a kid myself. It took me a few sit-down adult conversations before I knew why I held back on us.”

“You thought about us?”

“I really… really like you. I really do.”

“There’s a but there, right?”

“Yea, you might hate what I’ll say next but my mom really helped me see this.”

“Oh god, she doesn’t think I’m perfect enough!”

“What? No! That’s…” there is a solid knock on the door. Without either of them answering the door opens and both kids are surprised by who is standing in the hallway. Oliver says surprised, “Mom?”

[beaniesandmilkshakes]

ash and smoke (2/?)

previous part

summary:  A civil war is brewing between the north and south sides of Riverdale, being fueled by none other than the mayor Hal Cooper. When Betty meets the mysterious Southside Serpent Jughead Jones at a party, the revolution is only just sparking. It isn’t until the town is burning to ash around them that they confess their love, but by then it might just be too late.

author’s note: so sorry for the delay in updating, my computer broke and i hit the fateful writer’s block once it was fixed, but i’m back! i also made a spotify playlist based around this fic. the songs aren’t in a particular order and some don’t even have to do with the plot, mainly just for the aesthetic of the story. so please give it a follow if you’d like! enjoy xo!

read on ao3

masterpost

Jughead Jones watched as the Riverdale High girls drove off. Probably heading back to their non-mobile homes with two stories and a white picket fence. He thought to himself, before heading back into the party.

 He didn’t normally socialize during Serpent parties, but when he caught wind that three northside girls had crashed, Jughead decided to come out from the shadows to see what they wanted. Of course, he hadn’t expected to see Vince trying to feel a blonde up when he came downstairs, but his anxiety spiked once he realized who exactly the girl was.

 Now that she and her friends had driven off, all Jughead could hope for was that the Cooper girl didn’t tell her dad about the house.

 “Hey Jug, I’m in the mood for a smoke, wanna join me?” Harvey Kinkle moved his way through the crowd, his signature charming smile in place. Jughead shrugged in response.

 “Sure,” The two boys headed to an empty room upstairs, opening the windows and lighting up their cigarettes. Jughead exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it disappear into the night sky.

 “Hey Harvey, when’s your homecoming game again?” Jughead asked, flicking the ash on the end of his cigarette.

 “This Friday, actually,” Harvey responded, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”

 “What?”

 “Jug, the past five years I’ve known you, I’ve never once heard you take an interest in anything involving physical activity.” Harvey laughed, nudging his friend. “Does this have anything to do with those Rivervixens crashing earlier?”

 “Well, what if I just want to come and support my friend, who just happens to be playing his first game as captain?” Jughead sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, his beanie having been thrown onto a chair across the room. Harvey rolled his eyes.

 “Whatever you say Jug.” With that, the two fell back into a comfortable silence, Jughead’s daydreams of those soft green eyes looking back at him filling his mind.

  By the time Friday rolled around, Betty was absolutely exhausted.

 Homecoming week was a whirlwind of decorating the fieldhouse and dealing with an even more uptight Cheryl Blossom for an extra two hours a day. The homecoming game was the Vixen’s annual chance to show up the Greendale Giants, and seeing as it was lead by none other than Cheryl’s “mortal enemy” Sabrina Spellman, the Vixen’s routine had to be flawless.

 “Betty, you have bags under your eyes,” Alice Cooper noted dully, sipping her tea. Betty clenched her fist, which had more crescent-shaped wounds than usual, the stress of the past few days building up little by little. Polly noticed how her sister tensed and cleared her throat.

 “You can borrow my concealer Betty,” She offered, shooting her a warm smile. Before Betty had time to respond, Alice interjected.

 “That won’t be necessary Polly, Betty’s much paler than you.” Betty pursed her lips and Polly stared at her lap, mumbling an apology. “Just make sure you fix yourself up before the game tonight, Betty. You wouldn’t want to look weak in front of the entire town, would you?” There was an edge to her mother’s voice that reminded Betty of when her father was campaigning for mayor. ‘Remember Betty, just smile and wave. ‘Don’t speak unless spoken to. If you act out you make our family look weak.’

 Betty swallowed and nodded, “I’ll pick up a concealer during my lunch hour at the drugstore.” Alice nodded and turned to Polly to ask about where she and Jason will take their homecoming photos, signaling that the previous conversation was over. She had been displeased to find that Betty hadn’t found a homecoming date, and would be going stag for the second year in a row. Another reason to be called a failure to the Cooper name.

 “You know mom doesn’t mean what she said, we’re the same skin tone for God’s sake!” Polly sighed as the two drove to school twenty minutes later, Betty staring out the passenger’s seat window.

 “It’s fine, Pol. She’s always been like that with me, and in three years I’ll be off at college where she can’t control me anymore.”

 “Yeah, well next year I’ll be off at college and I hate to think of what kind of sick mind games she’ll play with you when I’m gone,” Polly reached for her sister’s hand and the two shared a look of sorrow. The Cooper sisters had always been close, never having the petty sibling rivalries that the movies depict. Betty wouldn’t lie and say the thought of her sister leaving next year was heartbreaking, but she would never dare admit it out loud. If she did, Polly’s loyalty would force her to stay home, attending the community college and leaving behind her bright future, adding another thing to the long list of guilt Betty would hold with her.

 “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl now, remember? And besides, I’ve got Veronica and Cheryl, not to mention Mom finally caved and got me meds at the start of the year.” It had taken years of begging and countless “episodes”, but Alice Cooper had finally made an appointment with a psychologist two towns over to get Betty a prescription for anxiety medication. Although the dosage was still small, Betty had felt the effects almost immediately.

 Polly sighed, pulling into the school parking lot, “Whatever you say Betts, and remember, I’m always a phone call away.” Betty laughed.

 “You’re making it sound like you're leaving tonight,”

 “I wish, but it’s never too early to start reminding you,” The oldest Cooper daughter winked at her sister and the two made their way into school.

  “Alright bitches, tonight needs to be perfect,” Cheryl smiled at the group of girls crowded in front of her in the girl’s locker room. The Vixens went on in three minutes during halftime, and the game was currently tied. Tension was high not only on the field but in the stands too.

 “She really needs to learn how to give better pep talks,” Veronica whispered to Betty, who bit her lip to suppress a giggle.

 “Those Giant sluts need to learn that we’re superior, nevermind the fact that they’ve beat us at regionals twice,” The redhead glared at Ginger, who notably fell flat on her face in an attempt to do a triple backflip two years in a row. “Anyways, let’s get out there and show Sabrina and her tragic excuse of a squad what us Vixens are made of,” As the girls started to shuffle towards their places, Cheryl shouted one last order. “And remember, amp up the sex appeal!”

 Betty took a deep breath, Cheryl’s final words ringing in her ears. She could be sexy, right? After the number of hours being shown the exactly the right way to move her hips, flaunt her breasts, and use her best assets, sexy should come naturally to her.

 “Ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the Riverdale High Rivervixens!” Dilton Doiley’s voice boomed over the PA, and the music started to blast as the crowd cheered. Betty tried her best, letting her body move to the music. She plastered on the fake smile she had mastered since she was six-years-old and moved her head so her ponytail bounced to the beat. When the routine was finished, Ginger had landed her backflip successfully and the Riverdale stands were on their feet. Veronica shot Betty a knowing smile, and the blonde blushed.

 “Amazing job girls, but as always, it could have been better. Shiela, your form was less than impressive, and Ginger, that backflip cut it too close. One more fuck up and you're out.”

 “Cheryl-” Veronica started, before Betty put a hand on her shoulder, a silent signal to back off. While it was the best performance they’d done by far, there was no use in arguing with Cheryl Blossom. The girl was always critical about everything.

 “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you Aspirante Puta. Alright, everyone get out of my sight.”

 “Perra,” The raven-haired cheerleader mumbled before turning back to her friend. “Wanna grab some concessions and wait for Archie to get out?”

 “Sure, just as long as my mom doesn’t catch me eating any carbs.” Betty shrugged.

 Luckily, the Coopers had left after halftime due to a “very important meeting” Hal had to attend in the morning, leaving Betty to eat all the soft pretzels she wanted. As she turned to go find Veronica, who had run off to wait outside the boy’s locker room, she locked eyes with the last person she’d expect to see.

 “Ah, so the cheerleader sneaks a pretzel, how scandalous of you,” Jughead Jones was leaning against the bleachers, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. He wasn’t wearing his serpent jacket, but Betty figures he’d be stupid to show up in a gang uniform to a northside football game.

 “Uh, what are you doing here?” Betty asked, cringing at how rude her words had come out.

 “Friends with the Greendale captain, and I just couldn’t miss the chance to see his team in action.” His excuse didn’t ease Betty’s nerves. “Relax, I’m not going to kidnap you, I just wanted to talk to the pretty girl who crashed my party again, and apologize for my asshole friend, again.” Oh, Betty thought, feeling guilty that her first instinct was to fear him. Jughead seemed a lot nicer than Cheryl had made him out to be.

 “Well thanks, and I’m fine, so uh, apology accepted.”

 “You won’t mind if I ask a question that’s been confusing me since I first saw you?”

 “Uh, sure I guess?” Betty bit her lip as Jughead ran his hand through his hair.

 “What was the mayor’s daughter doing at a southside party? Because if you went last weekend to find some danger, I’d suggest you stay away.” That wasn’t exactly the question Betty had been expecting.

 “It was a dare, sorry if we ruined your party but Cheryl really likes pulling us into stupid shit.” Under the field lights, Betty was able to make out his features more clearly than in the dim house, and she noticed the small freckles that dotted his tanned skin. As soon as he noticed her staring, though, she looked away quickly, a slight blush spreading across her cheeks. Jughead was more attractive than she remembered.

 “B!” Veronica called in the distance, snapping Betty out of her thoughts.

 “So…” Jughead rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to end the conversation.

 “Wanna get a milkshake at Pop’s sometime?” Betty blurted out, slapping her hand over her mouth once she realized what she had just said.

 “I mean, only if you want to,” She stumbled over her words and Jughead smirked. Though his stance would state otherwise, there was a flash of pain and longing in his eyes before he spoke.

 “Maybe one day, till then stay out of the south Cooper, you never know what kind of snakes will bite,” Before Betty could protest he was walking off towards a bleach blonde Greendale cheerleader and Veronica was at Betty’s side, Archie trailing behind her.

 “Hey, we’re going to grab some celebratory milkshakes, join us?” Veronica smiled, her eyes flitting to the raven haired boy across the field.

 “Sure!” Betty said as enthusiastically as she could without sounding fake. She shot Archie a smile and the three friends walked towards Archie’s beat up truck.

 Veronica turned to Betty and whispered, “And once we’re alone, you're going to explain why the hell Riverdale’s own Holden Caulfield was doing talking to you,” Oh lord, Betty thought. It’s going to be a long night.