Friends

Friends

I feel like I’ve been stabbed

I thought they were my friends

Like Oli said: “True friends stab you in the front”

But are they actually true friends?

I sometimes wonder if that was just my perception

It hurts to see them now turn their backs on me

While I clutch my wound, the warm stickiness dripping through my fingers

They didn’t even notice

And I know I will probably crawl back to them

Even though I have been hurt time and time again

My body, when I drink way too much alcohol for what I'm used to: Go ahead and destroy your liver. I don't fucking care.

My body, when I drink 2 cups of black tea in the evening: How dare you?! You're going to regret this, bitch!

A single oxide

You walk on the same street

Away from me merely a few feet

I reach out my hand

But you disappear

So close but yet so far

Soft waves of chestnut brown silk

That frame a face with skin pale as milk

Ice blur spheres that scan the crowd

While you smile your pretty smile so proud

I see you on the other side of the street

With your friends having a meet

My head in the clouds and always alone

I’m see-through - like a ghost to you

So close but yet so far

My heart jumps and flutters with love and happiness

But it aches and isn’t only full of bliss

Longing for him and his warmth next to my body

But he will never love me

In my thoughts I see you with another girl

Holding her hand, doing a twirl

Just her on your mind

Not a single thought for a girl like me

So close but yet so far.

Lost and Found Part 2 ~ Jughead x reader

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1,744

Warnings: none that I know of

Summary: The reader isn’t living with her parents any more and is looking for a place to crash. She meets Jughead. 

A/N: This takes place during the first season, around episodes 4 to 7.

Over the next few weeks the two of us avoided the other not sure what we thought of the other person’s presence. And every time we did coincidentally met the other we eyed him dis-trustingly and quickly carried on on our separate ways.

It was a late Sunday afternoon. The weather was already turning a little cooler – the end of summer in reach. I had decided to spend the day exploring the school and sketching. That was the reason why I was sitting on the edge of the flat roof of the school building.

My feet dangling in the air and the sun rays warmed my face. My hand moved swiftly over a page of my sketchbook, which was resting on my lap, depicting the landscape seen in front of me. Trees, the setting sun, a few houses. In simple moments like this I enjoyed life. Being alone, occupied with my own thoughts, doing what I loved – in my eyes that was the ideal way to spend my time. On days like this I didn’t have to spend my thoughts on problems and burdens.

The sudden squeak of the big metal door, that led onto the roof, tore me out of my pleasant daydreaming. I flinched and almost dropped my things. Turning around I saw Jughead standing in the door frame his laptop under his arm. “What are you doing here?” Standing up I collected my things, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was sketching. What about you?”.

Considering his options whether he should tell me his oh so mysterious secrets for a few moments he finally settled on sharing. “I’m writing a novel.” So that’s what he was doing when I saw him at the diner. I wondered what he was writing about, but I didn’t ask, not wanting to push the boundaries of this conversation and our ‘relationship’ - whatever exactly it was. “Well, have fun.” - Small talk never was my strong suit.

I walked past him – or at least intended to, but me being me I instead bumped into him, dropping some of my things one of them being my sketchbook. Falling to the floor it just had to open on the page with the pencil sketch of him. As quick as humanly possible I picked it up closing it. To my incredibly amazing luck he had of course still seen it. Just a quick glance being enough for his trained eyes. “What was that?”, he inquired. “Nothing”, I replied defensively. “Why did you sketch me?”

“You’re not the only one with secrets”, I said and rushed off not wanting to actually tell him the reason. Yeah sure, I liked to capture the mysterious and he was mysterious as hell, but I also had ulterior motives, that I didn’t even want to admit to myself. He was plain and simple beautiful and I might have some feelings – not anything big, let’s rather say interest – I had some interest in him and in his mysterious, secretive ways.

From that encounter onward we tolerated each other. We would spend time in the same room without running off, sitting on the roof top both of us searching for inspiration. Our behaviour grew less defensive and a little more trusting. I wouldn’t call ourselves friends, ‘cause there was no way we were that close, but if I had to put a label on this relationship it would most likely read ‘acquaintances’. While Jughead was still quite quiet, not overly friendly and on the fence, I started to really enjoy his presence even if it was just accompanied by silence.

Furthermore I actually started to find pleasure in bothering him, whether it was giving him weird nicknames or stealing his crown like beanie. The only thing I didn’t dare to mess with was his laptop and novel. The way he took it so seriously he might one day become some sort of professional writer. I loved annoying him for the confusion it caused him was just too hilarious.

Having fun bothering him meant popping up out of nowhere where ever he went.

So that was what I was doing when I walked into Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe one dreary evening. Greeting the waitress I ordered myself some dinner and walked over to Jughead who was more or less hiding behind his laptop monitor. Sliding into the booth so I sat across from him I cheerfully greeted him: “Hey there, mystery boy! How’s the novel going?”

Raising his eyes, looking at me sternly he then ignored me and continued writing his manuscript. Not being very bothered by his reaction or rather the lack there of, I proceeded talking about this, that and the other – about how my day was, about a new book I read, about the weird three-legged dog I saw on the way here. I talked about literally anything and everything hoping to spark a conversation – to no avail. Well, his loss, ‘cause I was an amazing conversational partner.

A few hours of one sided conversation later the two of us were ready to head ‘home’, walking side by side down the dark streets of Riverdale. “By the way”, I turned my head to the side to look at the slightly taller boy, who in turn looked at me. “I’m thinking of finding myself a new place to crash. The possibility of being noticed is to high if we both stay”, I carried on a hint of sadness laced into my voice. “Hey, you’ll finally be rid of me. Aren’t you happy?” Trying to lighten the mood I chuckle (not a fullhearted one) and elbowed his side. As oh so often Jughead stays quiet. Giving up to make him respond we continue to walk in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Reaching the school building we had to climb up a tree and sneak in through a window on the first floor, that luckily someone had forgotten to close, as the entrance doors had been locked. “What an adventure!”, chuckling I finally broke the quiet that was slowly but surely growing a little awkward.

Thanks to the fact that he was taller than me Jughead’s steps too were somewhat longer than mine and I had to slightly pick up the speed of my steps to hold up with him. When we arrived at the staircase leading to the ground floor of course something had to happen that could literally only happen to me – I tripped over my own two feet. Naturally something like this had to occur to me, I was the clumsy one after all. Dropping things for no reason, running into people – things like that were more or less already a part of my daily routine.

Jughead, who was standing at the open spot where the stairs turned, turned around in surprise when he heard the surprised noise I made. Of course he would be surprised, stumbling over his own feet wasn’t something that was likely to ever happen to him. He always had a safe step, was agile like a cat never loosing his footing. Not only was he agile but he also had an air of elegance about him, the same that our feline friends have.

To my misfortune I wasn’t able to catch myself and stop myself from falling so I closed my eyes and braced myself for the unavoidable impact – a sharp pain I knew too well.

It wasn’t quite true that I never was noticed, most of the time I wasn’t noticed. But there were some off days when I actually was detected – well, never in a good way. Days when the jocks – Reggie and his bulldogs- seemed to be in the need to bother someone. I, for an instance, had been a target of their actions a few times mostly resulting in them violently shoving me to the floor.

The hard impact never seemed to come. Instead I felt something soft touch my face and something warm wrap around my waist. Opening my eyes again I look up and see Jughead’s beautiful face right in front of mine. Shocked I take a step back. Jughead who had caught me and whose arms still had a tight grip on my waist didn’t expect my move which ended up in both of us toppling over.

Luckily Jughead caught my fall again. He was sprawled out on the cold and grey PVC floor. I had landed on top of him.  Embarrassed about the position we were in and how close our faces were – only a few inches apart from each other – I buried my face in my (h/c) hair and pushed myself up on my arms.

In the meantime Jughead had propped himself up on his forearms. After muttering different versions of ‘I’m so sorry’ and ‘This is so embarrassing’ I finally brought up the courage to look at him again only to meet his mesmerizing eyes starring at me a hint of something I couldn’t quite comprehend in them.

His gaze shut me up mid sentence. Being this close to him, feeling the warmth that radiated off of him, his breath on my cheeks – not in a creepy, endangering way but in a very comforting one – all this caused my ‘interest’ to kick in. I felt the heat rush up to my face, blushing. My heart started thumping like I was running a marathon, my breath speeding up as well due to the close proximity.

For a second or so I thought I saw a light blush creep onto Jughead’s rather pale face but as soon as I blinked it was gone. It felt like we were sitting like that on the cold floor starring at each other for hours. In reality we probably only had been in this position for a few seconds. At that moment it seemed like the attractive boy was slowly but surely leaning into me causing my heart to beat faster and I collected up all of my courage and eliminated the distance between us by lightly pressing my lips to his warm ones.

But... he didn’t kiss back. Maybe it was because he was surprised by my reaction, surprised that I liked him back, maybe he didn’t like it – I don’t know what his reason was. The only thing I knew in that moment was that I was super embarrassed – it was so cliché – that I quickly pushed myself up off of the ground and rushed off.

Lost and Found ~ Jughead x reader

Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Word count: 1,359

Warnings: none that I can see

Summary: The reader isn’t living with her parents any more and is looking for a place to crash. She meets Jughead.

A/N: This takes place during the first season, around episodes 4 to 7.

Looking around the small and dusty little hut I collected the last few of my belongings, stuffing them into my backpack. Lately I was living in this old and abandoned hut on the outskirts of Riverdale. It was hidden by a grove of trees so that it wasn’t easily visible from the street that led by. I really liked the place, it was quiet and peaceful, a safe haven of my own, but no matter how idyllic it was I had to move. Over the years of being abandoned and not taken care of the building, it had become rather unstable. Just a few days ago when I left for school I was almost hit on the head by a loose roof tile. So I finally made the decision to find a new place.

Walking over the little table under the old glass window I reached for the picture that was lying there. I sighed when I saw it. It was a photo of me and my parents. It was already bent from being carried around without a frame. The last time I saw my family must’ve been almost a year ago. We had a huge fight about morals and how my dad should get a grip on his life which ended in me deciding to leave. I wouldn’t live in a household where alcohol was drunk like water.

After finally being finished I carefully sneaked out of the shed not wanting anyone to see me. I hadn’t told any about my living situation and I wanted to keep it that way. The pity. Seeing it in their eyes whenever they set them on me – I hated it. It was not like I was a damsel in distress. I knew exactly what I was doing and I did not want or need their pity. To be completely honest, I actually kinda enjoyed my new lifestyle – moving from one place to the next, never knowing where I would end up or what I would discover. It was fun. Adventurous. Thrilling. Exciting. Reminiscing about everything I’ve experienced so far, I made my way to the best diner in town.

When I arrived at Pop’s I entered and ordered a coffee. Receiving my drink I moved past the tables and sat down at one further away from the door. I often came here. I loved sitting in silence and observing all the different customers. Sometimes it were just teenagers hanging out after school, trying to forget all the stress exam season held for them. Other times it were families with annoying children crying for desert. Once in a while I even saw a few Serpents quickly passing by.

This time when I looked up I noticed that most booths were empty as it was already late – the sky outside quickly darkening. The closest booth that was occupied was a few tables down on the other side of the aisle. Sitting there next to the window was a guy my age, wearing a grey crown shaped beanie, on the table in front of him there was a laptop. He had raven, slightly curly hair and mesmerizing light blueish-green eyes. His eye brows furrowed in concentration as he focused on the words he was writing.

I had seen him around a few times, mostly in school hanging out with Archie, Betty and the new girl – Veronica Lodge, the popular raven haired girl. His name was Jughead Jones.

Although he was friends with them, was a part of their group he was an outsider. He was different, dressed differently, had a different view of things. Being quiet and keeping to yourself, like he often did, didn’t make you popular – didn’t make people like you.

And believe me I know what I’m talking about. For I too am an outsider. I am the girl in the back of the class, the girl that everyone forgets about. The quiet one that has no friends. Normally I enjoyed going more or less unnoticed that way I didn’t have to spend my time with talking to people or something like that. But sometimes I hated being that girl. Sometimes I just wished I could be like Betty and Veronica, be ‘normal’ - whatever exactly that was.

I was ripped out of my gloomy thoughts by the waitress asking whether I wanted anything else, so I ordered another cup of coffee. When the woman went to get my drink I focused back on Jughead. He was still concentrated on the text he was writing, still typing in the separate letters with such a passion I hadn’t seen with anyone in a long time. Wondering what he was writing I kept observing his actions. He seemed so mysterious, that was what I liked about him.

When my order arrived I thanked the lady and reached for my backpack and took my sketchbook and a pencil out. I liked sketching, it was sort of therapeutic, it helped me sort my thoughts and I often came up with good ideas. In hope of getting an idea of where I could stay next I started drawing the handsome boy I had never actually spoken to.

Once in a while when Jughead looked up from the monitor he caught me starring at him. Replying with a look of suspicion he then turned back to his work. It was obvious that he didn’t trust people easily.

After a few silent hours sitting there with my pen in hand, I had finally thought of a place to go and was on my way to the only more or less safe place I could think of at the moment – Riverdale High.

The next morning I awoke in the stuffy little room I found at school. It was located towards the front of the school near the entrance. The supply closet wasn’t really used any more – at least I hadn’t seen anyone ever enter the room and the dust that had collected on the shelves supported my theory.

Still tired I stretched and bumped my hands on the rather low ceiling. 6:00 am – it felt like it was a lot earlier than that. I had to get dressed and ready before school started, so I moved over to my back pack and took out my clothes. Grabbing my grey jeans and black long sleeved shirt in one hand and my toothbrush and some other toiletries in my other hand I made my way on to the main hallway.

Recalling the where the showers were situated I remembered that the women’s showers were located on the far end of the building while the men’s were right around the corner. I knew I should take the long way to the female one but who am I kidding here, it’s way too early in the morning, I was lazy and I was the only person here at this ungodly hour. So my decision was pretty obvious and therefore quickly made.

I turned the corner to the boy’s tiled facilities and stopped dead in my tracks. Unlike I expected I actually wasn’t the only person here. There, standing only a few feet in front of me, he was.

Jughead.

When I walked in he looked up at me in surprise only to meet my shocked expression. Jughead was standing at one of the sinks, a toothbrush in his mouth. He was shirtless, only wearing grey pants with his typical suspenders. I had to admit that he was definitely good looking, more muscular than I would’ve suspected. His head wasn’t adorned by his signature grey hat – I had never seen this much of his gorgeous locks. After spitting out the foam and rinsing his mouth he leaned on the edge of the sink.

I was still rooted to the floor watching him cautiously. “What are you doing here?”, he questioned raising an eyebrow. At that question I crossed my arms defensively in front of my chest. “I could ask you the same”, I replied defensively. Silence answered me. Of course he wouldn’t. So I gave in, “I’m crashing here. Got a problem?”, and carried on to the showers without waiting to hear his reply.

Strong and Desirable ~ Aramis x reader

Word count: 835

Warnings: a little bit of violence

Summary: The reader works in a pub and is being bothered by some drunk customers, but she knows how to take care of them.

A/N: What do you guys think of this ‘You’-perspective? It’s the first time I ever used it and I’m not quite sure if I like it or not.

The four musketeer friends were sitting in one of the many taverns Paris had to offer savouring the company and ending their successful day with the enjoyment of some drinks.

For a while now Aramis had been watching the gorgeous girl serving the drinks. She was wearing a simple brownish-beige coloured dress, her sleeves rolled up to prevent them from getting dirty or wet. Some of her skirts were tucked under her bodice making it easier for her to walk in between the tables and benches. The hems of her skirts were fraying from dragging on the floor. Her long (h/c) hair was in a simple up-do, a few stray strands framing her face. The girl had a wit about her.

Aramis couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you. Even when his comrades included him in their conversation he constantly glanced at you. He couldn’t understand why and how such a beautiful girl would work in such a rough and dirty establishment.

You had noticed the stare of the handsome musketeer sitting in a corner chatting with his friends. You had never seen anyone quite as attractive as he was – the leather uniform that fit his frame tightly, his luscious dark brown locks that framed his face, the elegant beard he wore and those mesmerizing brown eyes that caused you to melt internally. You were wondering whether he would call you over at some point to bring him and his friends some more drinks so that you could start a conversation with him. But in the meantime you had to be satisfied with his watchful eyes.

“Hey! Missy!” The shout tore you out of your thoughts and reminded you of your job. Looking in the direction of the shout you saw a somewhat older unshaven man sitting at a table with equally unkempt men waving for you to bring over some more drinks. Quickly grabbing a new jug of ale you made your way over to the waiting guests.

“Finally”, one of the men commented as you filled their cups with the aromatic liquid. You had gotten used to the rude comments of drunkards, so you just ignored him. As you leaned against the table to reach the last cup you suddenly felt someone’s hand on your butt. One of the men was feeling you up. For a second you froze but recovered quickly. The man’s friends noticed their companion’s doing and cheered him on. When you pulled away he stood up hooking his arm around your waist pulling you close. He stank of alcohol.

Aramis saw the commotion from across the room and quickly stood to come to your aid. You saw Aramis’ movement from the corner of your eye. The concern was written all over his face. What a gentleman and romantic he must be. You thought it was sweet of him to want to come to your aid but you didn’t need his help. This wasn’t the first time that you had to deal with handsy drunkards.

Without turning to the man who had his arm slung around you you took a calm, deep breath before you elbowed his guts with all your strength causing him to double over gripping his stomach. This made Aramis stop in his tracks. He hadn’t expected that. You turned around to the man next to you and kneed him full force in his privates, causing him insufferable pain that would remind him to never mess with you again. He let out a screech of pain and dropped to the floor.

You reached down and snatched the almost full money pouch from his belt. “Thanks for the tip”, you said smiling fakely before you left to carry on with work. During this transaction the tavern had grown silent. The four musketeers, especially Aramis, were impressed and surprised.

About an hour later it was already dark out and the musketeers had enough enjoyment for the evening. The four of them stood up to leave. As Aramis finally waved you over like you had hoped, Athos, Porthos and d’Artagnan had already left, making their companion pay for them all.

You walked over to him, an empty jug in your hands, a small smile on your lips. Aramis looked down at you. “Can I give you a tip without being brought to my knees?”, he asked jokingly before chuckling. His words made you blush and look away a little embarrassed about your behaviour earlier. Looking back at him you replied: “Yes.”

In a swift motion he handed you a few coins and then, to your surprise, gently pressed his lips to yours. Before you had comprehended what had happened Aramis had already pulled back and was halfway to the door.

“I hope next time the tip is a little more elaborate”, you called out to him while grinning. When he turned around you saw a glint in his brown eyes telling you he knew you didn’t mean the money. You couldn’t wait for the next time to come.