Request: "I adore your writing and couldn't resist requesting more from you. 💕 Could you do one where reader is also a writer and takes up a liking to jughead?"

There was always something a little off about you.

You looked normal. Beautiful, even. Beautiful enough to be a member of the Riverdale River Vixens cheerleaders and a part of the "in-crowd", at least. But something about you was a little bit off. People often made the observation that your head was in the clouds, as if you were off in another world. It seemed the only time you were engaged was following Cheryl's strict commands during practice. During class, you took notes quietly, but even the teachers could tell you weren't paying attention. Your grades were all right, and you were nice to look at, so people didn't mind you too much. You blended into the background of popularity that made up the Riverdale High social scene.

One day, you approached a certain beanie-clad boy, hunched over his laptop in the student lounge.

You cleared your throat, getting his attention. The whole room quieted, shamelessly watching the exchange.

Jughead looked up at you, his eyes widening in surprise. You'd been in the same class since middle school, but never spoken. Ships passing in the night, it seemed.

"Hi, Jughead," you said shyly, playing with the hem of your pleated cheer skirt.

"...hey, (Y/N)," Jughead said slowly, still recovering from his surprise at your approach. "What's up?"

You bit your lip, well aware of everyone staring at you. You weren't used to people staring at you, alone. You were used to people staring at you when you danced with the Vixens, or when you hung out with Cheryl and Reggie at parties, but never just you. Jughead's eyes on you unnerved you the most.

"Will... will you go to Pop's with me?" You stammered out.

Everyone's eyes widened, flitting between you, the beautiful cheerleader, and Jughead, the sullen loaner.

"There's uh, a project I'm working on and I'd really like your help on it," you continued. You tried to smile, extra wide. Your mom taught you to always smile when you asked people for help.

Jughead raised his eyebrows, face tensed in thought. It then relaxed into a slight smile. "Sure, (Y/N). I'll meet you after school?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Thanks so much!" You turned on your heel, scurrying to your next class.

Everyone, including Jughead, regarded the situation with shock. It was the first time you'd talked to anyone about something not related to cheer or a party since you'd began attending Riverdale High. Reggie and Cheryl, the gatekeepers of the social status quo, regarded Jughead with a newfound suspicion.

Jughead himself looked forward to the meeting with keen fascination. It was finally time to see what you, the girl with her head in the clouds, was really thinking of all this time.

When he sauntered into the familiar diner, you were already sitting in the booth you knew Jughead sat at every day. You were perched on the edge of the seat, leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Jughead said again, sliding into the seat across from you.

A waitress took your orders. A burger and fries for Jughead, a strawberry milkshake for yourself.

When the waitress disappeared from earshot, Jughead leaned in. "What is this all about?"

Your eyes flicked back and forth nervously. You reached into your bag, pulling out a stack of papers. You slid it across the table to him, face down.

"What is this?" Jughead said, taking the stack. It was thick, slightly creased from sitting in your handbag all day.

"...it's a story I wrote," you said, looking down. "I... I've been working on it for a long time, and I really want someone to read it, and I know you're good at writing, so I was wondering if you could take a look for me?"

Jughead raised his eyebrows again. He never pegged you to be a writer, though it made sense given your dreamy demeanor.

"Sure," Jughead said with a nod.

Your usually blank expression broke into a full-out grin. Jughead couldn't help but smile back. You normally weren't very expressive, but when you were it was like the whole room lit up, apparently.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" You said excitedly, taking his hands in gratefulness. You blushed, pulling them away.

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it."

You pulled out your cell phone, handing it to Jughead with a "new contact" page open. He entered his number, and you took it back, calling him so he'd have your number recorded as well.

"Text me when you're done," you said, still giddy. "I want to know what you think!"

You glanced at your phone again. "Crap! I'm late for practice." You slung your bag over your shoulder. "Thanks again, Jughead."

"What about your milkshake?" Jughead asked, confused.

"No, silly," you said, rolling your eyes. "That's for you."

You paid and ran out the door. Jughead watched you leave, a funny smile on his face.

"Tell me everything!" You said.

It had been one week since your initial meeting with Jughead. He'd finally texted you that he'd finished reading it. He wouldn't admit it, but he'd actually read it in its entirety the night you gave it to him, but he didn't want to seem too obsessive.

Admittedly, the story was amazing. It was a fantasy epic about another world, centered around a girl who fought monsters. Though he didn't know you well, he could tell you'd modeled the protagonist's personality after your own, and he found himself learning more about you through reading the story. While you were quiet in-person, you were witty and clever. While you were shy in-person, you were bold and had a good heart. Jughead wondered how such an interesting person had gone unnoticed all this time.

"It was... incredible," Jughead said.

"You're lying..." you moaned, covering your face with one hand.

Jughead laughed. "No, I'm being completely serious." He took your hand like you had one week before, and you blushed just as strongly. "It was one of the best things I've read in a while. You're really talented."

You smiled. "Thank you, Jughead. That means a lot."

He pulled out the papers handing them back. "I made some notes on the word choice and some dialogue suggestions..."

You snatched it out of his hands. "Yes! This is great!" You hugged the papers to your chest, tucking them safely in your bag. "Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

Jughead tilted his head ever so slightly. "Have dinner with me?"

Your face reddened. "What?"

"You ran out last time. I feel like we should get to know each other if I'm gonna keep working together."

You sighed. "Oh. Well, okay!"

This time, you stayed (much to Cheryl's anger) and shared burgers and fries. The strange boy with the strange girl, though he learned, you weren't as strange as you let on. Like the protagonist in the story, you were clever, witty, and bold, with a good heart. He found himself smiling, just as he had when reading it.

At the end of the meal, you pulled out another stack of papers.

"What is this, now?" Jughead asked, taking the stack with amusement.

"The next part of the story, silly," you said, rolling your eyes.

He gestured to the papers in his hand. "You wrote this all in one week?"

You shrugged. "No, I typed it."

Jughead laughed at your confusion. "All right. I'll let you know when I'm done."

You grinned, taking his hands. "Thanks!" You paid your share, running out the door to your next activity.

Jughead stared at his own hands, where yours once were. He was going to have to start editing your papers a lot faster.

Jughead was sitting in the student lounge, going through a second read-through of the second part of your story. This week was preparation for regionals, and you found yourself bogged down after school with practices, so you'd agreed to meet with Jughead during free period to discuss the edits.

As his eyes scanned the pages, Jughead unconsciously found himself smiling and even chuckling at the things you had wrote.

"What are you looking at, loser?" Reggie said with a grunt, standing over the boy.

"None of your business," Jughead said curtly.

"Does it have to do with your girlfriend?" Reggie sneered, with just a hint of jealousy. He grabbed the papers, two of Reggie's friends holding Jughead by each arm to keep him back.

"What is this? Some kind of nerdy story?" Reggie said with a laugh. He started to read your writing aloud, in a silly, girly voice. Everyone in the lounge stopped what they were doing to hear Reggie read.

"Stop it, Reggie," Jughead pleaded.

"Who the fuck wrote this trash, anyways?" Reggie asked, throwing it on the ground.

You pushed through the group of people, quickly gathering the papers off the ground and restacking them. You were crying.

"They were mine," you said, voice cracking. Everyone stared at you. You weren't used to people staring at you, alone. You wiped the tears with the back of your hand, running from the room.

Jughead found the strength to pull himself from the two jocks. "Look what you did," he said, glaring at Reggie.

He followed after you.

You were sitting on a bench outside the school entrance, crying and clutching your papers like a doll.

"Hey," Jughead said, voice soft. He sat next to you, wrapping an arm around their shoulders.

You looked into his eyes, sniffling. "I knew everyone thought I was weird, but it was okay because none of them knew the real me. But now they do, and they still think I'm weird." You cried into the crook of Jughead's neck.

He rubbed your back in circular motions, shushing you. "Screw them. I read that story too, and you know what?"

"What?" You whimpered.

"I think you're amazing. Better than anyone else in that damn room," Jughead said.

"I'm weird," you insisted.

"You brave. You're kind. You're smart, not to mention beautiful," Jughead argued.

You smiled gently. You'd stopped crying, though you didn't separate yourself from his embrace. "Thanks, Jughead. I care about your opinion more than anyone's."

He laughed. "Well my opinion is the best, so..."

You raised an eyebrow. "What was that about thinking I'm beautiful?"

Jughead blushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The two of you laughed and you reached into your bag, pulling out another stack of papers.

"What is this?" Jughead asked, though he knew well by now exactly what it was.

You grinned. "The next part of the story, of course."

Jughead grinned back, looking forward to the next part of your written story, and the next part of your story, together.