#i HATE ov lucky girl's design

[mustasekittens]

💫lucky girl🔮

alt versions!!

[schyven]

Rating: G Word Count: 2825 Pairing: KanaDiaMari, ChikaRikoYou (mentioned) Summary: Holidays are stressful.

A/N: Happy belated holidays, @illichi! I heard that some people unfortunately didn’t receive their gifts for the @lovelivesecretsanta2017, so I volunteered to give another gift and got you! I hope you enjoy this!

    Kanan had a love-hate relationship with the holidays, specifically the gift-giving ones. When you had a stupidly wealthy significant other, shopping for them could extremely difficult and frustrating and soul-crushing. Unfortunately for Kanan, she had not one but two stupidly wealthy girlfriends to shop for during the holidays, which meant double the challenge, double the frustration, and double the soul-crushing. With almost every holiday season, Kanan was faced with the exact same problem: What the heck do you get someone who could simply buy what they want, when they want?

    Thanks to a deadly combination of procrastination and her tendency to run from her problems, Kanan found herself in a state of panic with only a week to get both Dia and Mari Christmas gifts. With absolutely no starting point, she knew she needed to turn to her other friends for help. Which was how she found herself sitting at the small table in Chika’s bedroom with Chika and You.

    “A gift for Dia and Mari?” Chika blinked at her for a moment before she tried to think of something. Crossing her arms over her chest and screwing her eyes shut in concentration, Chika hummed thoughtfully as she racked her brain for ideas. Beside her, You glanced up from her needlework and shot Kanan a curious look.

    “Isn’t Christmas in a few days?”

    “You, I came here for help, not to be criticized,” Kanan grumbled, shooting her a glare. You simply shrugged and turned back to the dress she was sewing.

    “Have you tried asking them what they wanted?” she asked, completely unhelpful. Kanan simply continued to glare at her, to which You shrugged in response. “Sorry, I don't really know them as well as you do.” For someone who was supposedly sorry, You certainly didn't sound or look like it. In fact, she looked rather amused by the entire situation.

    “It's hard coming up with something they’d want. They both have the money to just...buy whatever,” Kanan explained with a frustrated huff.

    “Who’s that μ's idol Dia loves so much? Why not get her another poster or something?” You suggested.

    “Dia’s got everything.”

    “Even the rare merch?”

    “You. We’re talking about the person who somehow got μ's original training schedule!”

    “Point taken.”

    They fell into silence as You continued with her sewing and Kanan tried to brainstorm gift ideas for her girlfriends. She lasted a total of two minutes before she gave up.

    “Chika, you've been quiet. Please tell me you have an idea?” Desperate, Kanan looked back at her other friend, who'd been lost in her thoughts since the beginning of the conversation. When Chika remained quiet, clearly still thinking, Kanan heaved a sigh and slumped forward, burying her face into her hands in frustration. “Why is this so hard!?” came her muffled shout. You chuckled, taking further amusement in her distress.

    “I’ve got it!” Chika abruptly shouted, leaping onto her feet with her fists in the air. The other two started at her suddenly burst of energy, and You cursed under her breath when she accidentally pricked herself with her needle. “When it comes to gifts, you gotta give them something from the heart!”

    “‘From the heart’?” Kanan asked.

    “Something that holds meaning, duh! And I've got just the idea!” Chika beamed at her before she scrambled towards her desk. From its messy surface, she fished out her lyric book and tossed it and a pen onto the table. “You can write them a song and perform it for them on Christmas!”

    “But I can't write music!” Kanan whined. Chika rolled her eyes.

    “Dude, you’ve got the main lyricist of Aqours right in front of you—who also happens to be dating Aqours’ main composer!” she shouted. “And one of their costume designers!” she added when You cleared her throat in mild annoyance.

    “... You guys would really do that for me?” It was actually a really good idea—a great idea, even—but Kanan didn't want to step over any boundaries by asking any of them to help her compose a whole song.

    “Well, Chika seems eager to help,” You said. “And I'm sure Riko will be more than happy to help out. It obviously means a lot to you.”

    Kanan glanced between the lyric book and her two friends, still hesitant. She thought about it, contemplating on whether they'd have enough time and if it was really okay for her to ask this of them, while Chika and You smiled encouragingly at her. After a few minutes, she made her decision.

    “Thanks, you two. I really appreciate that you're willing to help me write a song for them,” she said.

    “Of course we’d help! You're our friend!” Chika replied, red eyes sparkling with excitement now that she's gotten the ‘okay’ to help. “Let’s get Riko over right away so that we can get started!”

    “Are you sur—” Before Kanan could finish, Chika barreled over to her balcony and shouted over the railing.

    “RIKO! COME OVER! WE’VE GOT A SONG TO WRITE!”

---

    Mari loved, loved, loved the holidays! She loved the festive atmosphere, all of the merrymaking, the time spent with friends and family—everything about the holidays were absolutely wonderful!

    She did have one qualm, however—Just one. And that was the “no expensive gifts” rule that Dia absolutely insisted upon and enforced as though it were law.

    It just wasn't fair, if you asked her. How else was she supposed to show her lovely girlfriends how much she loved them if she couldn't shower them with presents!? No fair, Dia, no fair!

    Usually, she'd simply break that rule and get them something really nice (Dia certainly didn't complain that one time she received that limited edition Eli figurine for her birthday!). However, as much as she loved getting a rise out of Dia, she decided to play by the rules for once. After all, she'd been away from them for two years and she wanted to forge as many positive memories with the two of them as humanly possible, for the rest of her life.

    Thanks to that, though, she had a dilemma: What was something “cheap” that she could get either of them and still express her love for them?

    And so, she turned to her fellow Guilty Kiss members for some help.

    “You're shopping on a budget?” Yoshiko had every right to sound skeptical. Of all people to be shopping on a budget, it obviously wasn't Mari “I could buy you Antarctic” Ohara. When Mari had suddenly dragged her and Riko to Numazu’s shopping center, she hadn't been expecting it to be some half-baked prank. “And I'm a angel blessed by god—Stop pulling my leg! The great Yohane sees through all your lies!”

    “It’s true! It’s true!” Mari insisted with a pout. “Dia’s being a big meanie and said we’re not allowed to get each other expensive gifts!”

    “That certainly sounds like her,” Riko chuckled. She spared the shops around them a quick glance before directing her gaze back onto Mari. “Might I recommend getting them something practical?” She jumped back when Mari whirled around and jabbed a finger at her.

    “That's booooooring!” she shouted in English. How dare Riko suggest something like that! Her beautiful girlfriends deserved something more exciting! “It needs to come from the heart, Riko! Something that screams passion and shiny!”

    “‘P-Passion and shiny’?” Riko asked, nervous. From their time together, she's learned the hard way that “shiny” could mean many, many things to Mari, and to have “passion” included in the package could only mean trouble.

    “Of course, Lily!” Yoshiko jumped in. This, of course, only added to Riko’s anxiety. “When it comes to gift-giving, the gods and spirits demand only the most sincerest of offerings! Think, Lily, wouldn’t you rather be given a gift to aligns with your heart’s desires?”

    “I-I can see what you're saying, but I also don't see the harm in a gift that’s prac—”

    “What did You and Chikacci get you for your birthday?” Mari demanded, trying to get some gift ideas. Almost immediately, a red-hot blush covered Riko’s face and her hands shot up defensively in front of her.

    “N-N-Nothing!” she shrieked, voice several octaves higher in her flustered state. “They didn't get me anything!” Her shouting drew some stares, and Yoshiko huffed in annoyance.

    “We both know those little demons got Lily dou—ACK!” In a flash, Riko had the younger girl in a headlock.

    “No one asked you!” At this point, Mari concluded that she was making zero progress towards her goal for the evening, and all of their shouting was starting to draw a crowd of annoyed shoppers. Deciding that Riko and Yoshiko were too busy wrestling with each other to be of any help, Mari wandered off to look at the stores for some gift ideas (which she probably should've been doing since the beginning). Looking at the various items on display, she sighed and frowned at the lack of anything noteworthy.

    It took all of her willpower to skip over the pricier stores.

    Riko and Yoshiko eventually caught up with her, both disheveled and annoyed from their fight. They walked alongside her as she browsed the shops, occasionally pointing out suggestions. Riko remained adamant about practical gifts, pointing out school supplies for Dia and workout clothes for Kanan. Yoshiko offered more unique suggestions, presenting lucky charms and trinkets for either of them. Nothing stood out. Nothing was good enough.

    “We still have about two weeks before Christmas,” Riko eventually said, exasperated. They had been looking around for almost two hours now. It was getting late, they had school tomorrow, and they still needed to work on their homework. “Why don't we come back another time and try again?”

    Mari was about to concede defeat when her suddenly caught sight of a small, unassuming, shop in the corner of her eye. Whipping around, she dashed over to it, much to Riko’s dismay and Yoshiko’s surprise. The shop was nothing special. Small, plain, and easily overlooked. However, what caught her attention were the small dolphin and penguin plushies sitting on display.  They were small, barely bigger than her hand, and lumpy.

    They were perfect.

    “Are you serious?” Yoshiko asked, eyeing the misshapen plushies with a look of disgust.

    Oh, she was deadly serious.

---

    If it weren't for calendars and her friends’ adoration for the holidays, Dia would honestly forget about a majority of them. It wasn't that she detested the holidays or had bad experiences with them—On the contrary, her friends and family made them enjoyable enough. She just simply couldn’t be bothered with them.

    That is, until this year.

    “You’re overthinking things, sis,” Ruby reminded her for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

    “You don’t think I’m rushing things?” Dia asked for the umpteenth time that afternoon. She had gone to a small jewelry shop in Tokyo an entire month before Christmas to purchase gifts for Kanan and Mari. She had taken Ruby and Hanamaru along with her to 1) help her navigate Tokyo’s mess of a transit system and 2) assist her with picking out her gifts.

    They had also been brought along with moral and emotional support.

    “It's not cheesy or cliche?” Despite her sister and Hanamaru’s gentle tones and warm smiles, Dia still felt incredibly anxious and uncertain. She nervously eyed the display case in front of them.

    She loved Kanan and Mari very much—This, Dia was absolutely certain about. However, what she wasn't so certain about was whether or not she was making the right decision. When one considered the two year gap they had in their relationship, they've only officially been “together” for a relatively short amount of time.

    The last thing she wanted was to rush things.

    Dia had spent hours, days, weeks, and almost a month thinking over this decision. She'd done her research, and obtained the information she needed. Kanan and Mari deserve nothing but the best, after all. However, would she scare them off with her eagerness?

    Perhaps she needed to reconsider.

    “It’s kinda cheesy,” Hanamaru said. Dia was moments away from simply leaving the store. When she turned around, however, she saw that Hanamaru had a gentle smile on her face (as opposed to the teasing smirk she'd envisioned in her mind). ”But Kanan and Mari wouldn't be bothered by that.”

    “...You really think so?”

    “Dia,” Ruby abruptly spoke up, voice firm. When Dia winced at her stern tone, she placed a comforting hand on her arm, coaxing Dia to look at her. Ruby’s expression was absolutely resolute as she said: “They both love you so, so much.”

    Dia stared at Ruby silently, letting her words sink in. She then called for over an assistant, turning her back to Ruby and Hanamaru just in time to miss their celebratory high-five.

---

    For a song that was written, composed, and choreographed in a week, Kanan thought she pulled off a decent performance. Of course, Chika, You, and Riko had all been a huge help, and she would be sure to thank them all again when she had the chance. For now, she had to survive the crushing hug Mari was giving her.

    “Oh that was so shiny, Kanan!” the blonde shrieked in her ear. “You've had me swooning the whole time!” Kanan returned the hug with equal fervor, lifting her slightly off the ground and burying her nose in soft blonde locks. Dia watched them fondly from her spot on Mari’s bed. Kanan and Mari remained locked in the hug for a few moments before Mari practically sprang free with a loud gasp. “I need to give you your gifts!”

    She pushed Kanan towards the bed, motioning for her to sit before scrambling over to her closet. As Mari dug around in her closet, Kanan scooted closer to Dia, intertwining their fingers together and offering her a warm smile. Dia returned the smile, though it seemed a little stiff. Before Kanan could comment on it, Mari plopped down between them, nearly crushing their hands and giggling uncontrollably. Without a word, she thrust a carelessly wrapped box into each of their hands, yellow eyes gleaming with excitement and expectation. Dia tilted her head in confusion before carefully unwrapping her gift. Kanan, on the other hand, tore through the wrapping paper quickly and popped open the box.

    They found lump, misshapen stuffed animals in the boxes.

    “So! What do you think?! They’re shiny, right?!” Mari asked, practically shaking in her excitement. She nudged their shoulders with her own, prompting them to respond.

    “I’m surprised you actually listened to me, for once,” Dia admitted, with a small smile. She lifted the penguin plush she’d been gifted, carefully turning it over in her hands as she inspected it. It was surprisingly very soft. “Thank you, Mari. I will treasure it.”

    “Mari.” Dia and Mari turned to Kanan, and found her close to tears with the dolphin plush squished to her chest. “I love it! It’s so soft and cute I could die!” With one arm, she pulled Mari into another hug, who eagerly returned it with a laugh. They then turned to Dia, causing her to stiffen under their expectant gazes. Dia fidgeted a bit, clearly nervous.

    “Before I give you my gift, I would like you both to know that I love you both very much,” Dia began. Kanan and Mari straightened up, caught off guard by Dia’s serious tone. She took a deep breath before continuing: “We’ve been through so much together, and I am so happy to have you two by my side once again. I would like to remain by your sides.” Dia reached into her pocket and fished out two small ring boxes. With a deep, calming breath, Dia offered them the boxes, opening them to reveal two rings with red, green, and purple stones. “We’re too young to consider marriage, but I can at least promise myself to you two until then, and I would love it if you two were to do the same.” As she finished speaking, she averted her gaze to hide her flushed face and not subject herself to their reactions.

    Her gift had them both completely speechless.

    Suddenly, Mari tackled Dia, nearly knocking the rings from her hands and causing her to cry out in surprise as she pulled her into a tight hug and buried her face into the crook of her neck.

    “Yes! Oh my god, yes yes yes!” she yelled, voice choked up with tears. Before Dia could respond, Kanan swept them up in a crushing hug.

    “Yes!”

    They eventually pulled back and allowed Dia to slip the rings onto their hands. She also took out a third box, revealing that she had also gotten herself a ring to match theirs. They spent the rest of the night cuddling and showering each other with affection.

---

    “Hey, wait a minute! No fair, Dia! I thought you said no expensive gifts!?”

    “What is or isn't ‘expensive’ is subjective, Mari.”

    “...damn you, rich people...”

[agirlhasnonamehotd]

Designated Driver

Mark x MC

With appearances from Cole, Horatio, and Ben

(I’m so sorry I’ve been missing from the LH world. It was Homecoming week, and I’ve been swamped with work… but I managed to write this short fic. I’m still working on rewriting Chapter 3 of Book 1…but enjoy this in the meantime!)

It’s 3:00 a.m. when you finally get the call. You roll over and grab your cell phone.

Mark.

“Babe?” you answer sleepily.

“Wha…what…d-don’t call me baaabe”

There’s rambling in the background. You recognize Ben and Cole’s voices.

Oh, boy.

“Hello?” you say patiently.

“H…shhhh, quiet you guuuys…. Hi is this Uber?”

No, jackass, this is your girlfriend-you want to say. However, in the depths of the early morning hours, you’re feeling particularly wicked. Your mouth curls into a mischievous grin.

  “Why yes, it is,” you reply, “Do you need service?”

“WHOA…whoa, lady,” Mark slurs his warning, “Calm down with the service…we need…rides.”

“Okay, sir. Where are you?”

“We’re…guys, where are we?”

You sit up in bed and roll your eyes as you hear the three of them trying to make sense of their surroundings. You know where they are – Mark told you he was having boy’s night at the usual spot.  You also know he must be shitfaced if he confused your number for the Uber App.

“We’re…at….at the Double Tap,” he finally answers. “Be there shortly,” you say

Once you hang up you rub your hands together. You feel like you did when you were five in a candy store:  This will be a treat. From your closet you pull a pair of glasses and a blond wig – part of last year’s Halloween costume. You put them on along with an old college sweatshirt. One look in the mirror, plus knowing how wasted they are, confirms they won’t notice a thing.

Driving to the bar you are in good spirits. It’s not often you get an opportunity like this. When you get there, you see them.

It’s hard not to.

 Ben, Mark, and Cole all attempting to breakdance on the sidewalk. Chaperoned by Horatio. You know it’s horrible. You know. But you pull out your phone and take a quick video. Blackmail.

 When you get out of the car and approach them, Horatio does a double take. You put your finger to your lips and wink; he understands.

 “Uber transportation for Mark Collins?” you say in a bored, tired sort of voice.

 Mark gets up from a bad attempt at floor rocking and nearly falls back over. He looks at you sideways and blinks several times.

 “That’s…that’s me,” he points to himself, “I’m …. that dude.”

 You point to your car and directly avoid Horatio’s stare. If you look at him you’ll dissolve into a giggle fit. This is too good. You watch the boys stumble towards your car. Ben tries to open the car door. And tries. And tries.

 “Ben,” Horatio calls to him, “that’s the gas compartment!”

 Ben looks at it for several seconds before moving his hand to the actual handle. He opens the door and throws it open with such force it makes you flinch. The three practically climb over each other to get into the backseat. When they close the door you see Cole press his face to the window. Horatio then turns to you.

 “Dani, what are you doing?” he asks.

“If I must be D.D,” you explain, “I might as well have a little fun.”

 You expect Horatio to express dissent. However, when you turn around and Cole now has his ass pressed to the glass he nods.

 “Are the child safety locks on?”

“Nope, I want to see at least one of them tuck and roll from the car,” you respond in jest.

“I want to hear this tale tomorrow,” he says to you with a small smile.

 You give Horatio a pat on the shoulder and go back to the car. Once you ensure your passengers are wearing seatbelts (it takes Mark three tries and a pinched finger) you head first to Ben’s place.

 “So, gentlemen,” you begin casually, “did you have a good evening?”

“Oh…we…. yes. That’s a yes,” Ben nods vigorously.

“We…are…we’re….” Cole laughs at himself “motherfucking legends. Youuuu…. lady… are driving….l…legends.”

 In the rearview mirror you see Cole attempt to high five Mark. Instead, he hits him in the face. Mark screams bloody murder.

 “OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW, dude…,” he cries out, “that hurt…you…you broke my face! How will D…D…Dani like me now?”

 At this you smile. Mark’s face is fine, but he claws at it as if he’s been mauled.

 “Mr. Collins, who is Dani?” You ask curiously.

 The back seat gets quiet. You see the three boys look at each other.

 “Dani’s my girl…person,” he says with a drunken grin.

“But you’re not like…exclusive, are you, handsome?” you say suggestively.

 Ben scoffs from the backseat. Cole looks outraged. But Mark? Mark gets this soft look on his inebriated face.

 “I…a-am…off the…market,” he stutters, “We are…ex…ex… you can’t have me.”

“Dani’s the bestest,” Ben adds in, “trust me, I kinda know see when…M…Mark and her were…well before they were …”

“Ben Ben Ben,” Cole spits out, “do…don’t talk about that time you bent Dani ov- “

“WHOA!” Mark interjects holding his hands over his ears.  You are intensely grateful for this.

“Guys…guys…” he says. He then looks at you through the rearview mirror. Though his eyes are bleary from the alcohol, you see purpose in them.

 “Dani…. Dani’s like…my bff…and my gf…she’s…like…. she’s like my….”

“Sex goddess?” Cole fills in with a hiccup.

“Well…that tooooooo,” Mark agrees, “but she’s so…. special…and I just love her…so so much…”

 You hear a sniffle from the back seat. Ben. With a tear slipping down his face.

 “That’s…. sooo beautiful man,” he murmurs as he wipes his face.

“Yeah…but…but let’s not forget that boooodaayyyy,” Cole sings drunkenly, “she’s so scrumptious- OW”

 Mark punches Cole’s arm. Hard.

 “Don’t… you talk about her like that.”

 You feel Mark’s eyes on the back of your head.

 “L…listen lady,” he says pointedly, “I’m fl…fl…it’s cool you think I’m attr…hot, but…I’m a one-man woman.”

 It takes everything in you to refrain from laughing.

 “I understand, sir.”

 Shortly after you arrive at Ben’s apartment complex. He tips you, and crawls up the steps to the front door. After three attempts with his keys he finally gets in. From there it’s a short drive to Mark and Cole’s place; most of it is spent with the two attempting to sing the theme song from Cheers. It’s mostly gibberish. Finally, you reach their complex. You stop the car and turn around in your seat.

 “This Dani sounds like a lucky woman,” you muse.

“No….wroooonggg…” Mark declares with a forceful head shake,  “I’m luck…lucky. She’s my world.”

 He looks at you and then at Cole, who is fumbling with the door. At last Cole gets it open and the two exit with difficulty. You get out to watch them – afraid of them falling down the steps. As they open the door Mark turns and waves.

 “Nighty night Uber lady!” he exclaims.

 And then he’s gone.

You stand out there a few minutes; pull the wig from your head. A huge smile spreads across your face. Laughter and a good joke were your goals for the evening. Instead, even in his drunken state, Mark’s left you with that warm, fuzzy feeling of which he is a master.

 Eventually you get back to your place and crawl into bed. You find it hard to sleep, though, because his words replay in your head.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next afternoon, Mark appears at your door. He’s in sweats, holding his head, looking a little worse for the wear.  You open the door wide and watch him walk past you and plop down on the sofa. He groans when his head hits the pillow.

 “Rough night?” you ask him.

 His only response is to nod and pat the cushion beside him. You follow his gesture and as soon as you’re beside him, his head is on your lap. He places a hand on your knee and lets out a content whimper when you massage his temple.

 “I…will never drink again,” he mutters.

“Well, that’s a lie,” you laugh, “what happened?”

“Cole …. seven rounds of red Herring.”

“None of you pulled a Jack of Hearts, did you?” you tease.

 Mark groans again.

 “Dani…I love you,” he replies, “but for that I kind of hate you.”

 You smile down at the precious, hungover, hunk of man.

 “Anything else happen?”

 Mark opens his eyes and squints against the light, deep in thought.

 “Yeah…actually,” he muses, “our Uber driver hit on me.”

 You do your best to sound surprised.

 “What?! Was it a dude?!”

“No, a chick…blond….and she asked me if I was available, sorta,” he tells you.

“Oh, that’s awkward,” you respond with a chuckle.

 Mark turns over on his back and looks straight up at you. He reaches up and touches your cheek; presses his fingertips to your lips.  You kiss them gently.

 “It was, but …I told her I have the perfect woman. I don’t need anyone or anything else.”

 The words warm your heart all over again. Mark sits up momentarily to kiss you; then flops right back onto your lap. You spend the afternoon caressing his face and playing with his hair as he slips in and out of slumber. It hits you as you watch him smile in his sleep. Whether Mark is drunk, hungover, or sober… You’re certain. You are his world just as much as he is yours. Life will always be amazing with him in it.

[juggieheadcoopers-blog]

Interstate Love Song (Chapter 1)

Betty Cooper is a down-on-her-luck college student who is in danger of losing her spot on her school’s newspaper. She’s given one last chance to prove herself by conducting an interview with the lead singer of an up and coming indie band, Archie Andrews. When she’s thrown next to a freelance photojournalist who is the opposite of Betty in every way possible at the concert, things go sour in the worst ways when their most prized possessions get packed up with the band’s equipment and they’re forced to travel the road together to retrieve them. 

A/N: This is like a mashup of different AU’s (road trip, enemies to lovers, college, etc) that was loosely based on a request by an anon lol. Not sure if I should continue it or not so let me know what you think! (Chapter 2 is already written!)

–

Greendale - Crash Into Me

Betty Cooper had just spent the last ten minutes scrubbing the mustard stain out of her pair of lucky white slacks with the ripped-off-corner of the last bit of paper towel on the roll in the ladies bathroom. The mustard stain had been the result of a careless fan maneuvering his way from the busiest food stall, to the merchandise booth - his camera in one hand, his Italian sausage in the other, and his focus on anything other than the path in front of him. As fate would have it, Betty had been heading down that very same path in the opposite direction, at the exact wrong time. 

One shoulder bump and a trip over a much-too-oversized combat boot later, the condiment-soaked meat product went flying in the air and onto Betty’s favorite pair of pants that she only wore when she had a very big, very important day that required an extra bit of luck. The scruffy-haired miscreant didn’t even apologize for possibly ruining the only article of clothing that brought her any shred of hope for successfully keeping her sanity in an interview like the one she was conducting today, and instead mumbled something about wasting three dollars on the now-asphalt-heavy food item, and headed into the auditorium without another glance in her direction. 

Out of sorts and unsure of where she was going, she stumbled through an unlocked, unguarded, gate that happened to lead backstage and into the one room where she needed to be most - Archie Andrews’ dressing room. Silently praising the gods in charge of the luck in her lucky-white-slacks, she removed her trusty red day planner and charged forward, a few feet away from the reason she had stepped foot into this god-forsaken concert in the first place and the big break she was sure to receive after she wrote this kick-ass article. Taking a deep breath - inhale ten seconds, exhale for five - she lifted her fist to knock on the door and -

“Miss?” A booming voice coming from behind her startled Betty into lowering her arm as quickly as it had shot up, the knowledge that she had just been caught in an act of misconduct causing her palms to sweat in a way that she had never experienced before. “You can’t be back here.” 

“You don’t understand,” she told the husky man with the thin strip of hair along the top of his hairline, her voice surprisingly strong for the way she was screaming at herself to surrender on the inside. “I’m with the Riverdale University Daily Gazette and I’m supposed to be doing an entire column on local superstar Archie Andrews who used to-”

“That’s an interesting story, really,” he deadpanned, his stony face showing no sign of remorse for kicking her out of the one and only place she needed to be at that very moment. “But you still can’t be back here. Now, I suggest you find your way to your seat before I’m forced to take you there myself or remove you from the premises.” 

“The disrespect for straight and honest journalism these days is unbelievable, I swear,” she muttered under her breath, shoving the organizer back into her almost-designer handbag and marching her way back through the same gate she came in, her swinging blonde ponytail nearly smacking the security guard’s nose as she passed him. 

Her thoughts jumped from one crazy scenario to the next as she strategized ways for how she was going to find her way backstage again after the concert, making her way through the slightly inebriated, slightly odor-ridden crowd of concert-goers and into the auditorium where the show was about to start. 

“Excuse me,” Betty told the annoyed group of business majors already seated at the end of her row, pointing to the empty seat six or seven seats down and tiptoeing her way past them. “Yeah, I just need to squeeze through here - yep, right there - thank you!”

Betty collapsed into the hard plastic seat that her college’s newspaper had paid for unsuspectingly, placing her purse delicately on her lap and removing her planner once more from inside, flipping to the small notebook at the back of the organizer and removing her pencil from the side pouch. 

“A little dressed up for a rock concert, don’t you think?” 

Betty turned her head to find the Italian-sausage-flinging-bandit sitting in the seat next to her, his unbrushed hair falling into his eyes in what Betty thought was an annoyingly attractive manner, and his camera held in front of his right eye as he captured the screaming gaggle of teenage girls standing in the front row attempting to storm the stage before the security guards at the front safely removed them and went about their business. 

“I’m not here to partake in senseless activities that the average college student clings to in hopes of finding where they belong in this big bad world of mistakes and confusion like some people,” Betty informed him, adjusting her Peter-Pan-collared sweater and flicking her nose up and away from him. “I’m here on business.” 

“What a coincidence,” he told her, his mouth dropping open in mock-surprise as he pointed the camera in her direction and clicked the button without warning. “So am I.”

“Please, what kind of business could you possibly be administering at a concert other than,-” Betty rolled her eyes, but then quickly turned to him with wide eyes as the realization settled into her expression. “Oh my god, are you a drug dealer?”

“Hot damn, she found me out,” he hollered, throwing his hands into the air as he let his camera hang by the strap around his neck. “You heard it here first, folks, I’m Greendale’s very own Scarface - get the finest blow from this side of the river right here!” 

“Alright, then why are you here?” Betty shushed him, her eyes flicking down to the flannel shirt tied around his waist like he had time traveled back to the 90′s and had just stumbled out of a Nirvana concert. “If you’re not dealing drugs or enjoying the musty atmosphere of bad decisions and cigarette smoke, what kind of business could you offer in a place like this?” 

“I run a music blog,” he admitted, holding up his camera to her as if she hadn’t noticed it by now and flipping it over so that she could see it from every possible angle. “I travel to concerts documenting my experience - the fans, the music, the ove-priced merchandising. I capture the entire thing with my camera and then I share it with everyone else who couldn’t be here to enjoy it with me.” 

“So you spend your whole life skipping from town to town like a poorly dressed nomadic bunny,” Betty scoffed, scrunching her nose up in disgust as she watched the opening band make their way onto the stage. “Sounds irresponsible.” 

“It sounds like I’m actually enjoying my life,” he shot back, turning to glare at her shiny-black heels and hundred dollar manicure like it was the foulest thing he had ever seen. “Better than being a stuck up Priss whose only problems range from how much Daddy left me in the trust fund, to what car I’m going to drive to my boyfriend’s mansion next weekend, the Porsche or the Ferrari?” 

“You don’t know me,” she snarled, her cheeks red with anger as she resisted the urge to reach across his body and rip that camera off of his neck so she could smash it into a million pieces on the concrete. 

“Well thank god for that,” he mumbled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, the concert is starting and I’d rather not listen to your irritating voice throughout the whole thing so do me a favor and don’t talk to me.” 

“Happily,” she huffed, turning away from him dramatically by crossing one leg over the other and facing her body so that it was as far away from him as possible. “But for the record, I’m doing this as a favor to myself and not you because I don’t want to talk to you either.” 

“Nice mustard stain by the way,” he told her, his eyes flitting down to the faded yellow blob on the white fabric covering her thigh and smirking. “Really completes the outfit.” 

Forget the camera. She was going to kill him. And she was going to make it slow and painful and she was going to enjoy every last second of it. Or at least that’s what she thought about from the time the band stepped on stage, to the second they exited through the large velvet curtains after their final encore. She hated him. And if she never had the pleasure of seeing that smug look on his face ever again, she would have been the luckiest girl to ever walk the planet from that point on, stained slacks and all.