Cole Sprouse Imagines

❝That's My Girl❞

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Reader
Word Count: 2332
Warnings: None

Description: — Just a typical Boy/Girl best friend relationship (imagine). Y/N & Jughead Jones are best buddies for several years and with that much time and created unforgettable memories, they also tend to be dating as well—for three months, exact. For as much as they want to keep their relationship unflashy and a little bit exclusive, too, their circle of frivolous friends keeps it candid for themselves which, by the way and honestly, the duo don't mind at all. The both of them seem to blend their friendship and their love intimacy for each other and that is what they treasure the most.

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[ Jughead's POV: ]

Does the rainbow have its colors to make it look lively or the colors itself found a name to make them look lively? It's confusing but really colorful and that's what exactly I'm feeling whenever I'm with her.

I might be the guy who's known as the "gloomy kid" here in Riverdale—which is true—but things kind of changed and got all twisted around when Y/N and I confessed to each other. It's not some lame confessing session that most teenagers see in romantic movies, it's a sincere scene with full of honesty in it and accurate love. Of course, I'm gladdened and I could feel more than just that. It's like a fortune cookie concept, in just one snap of a finger pluck, you will suddenly feel renewed and freshened up with great things ahead of you.

Today, she texted me to come over at her flat and it's eight o'clock in the freaking morning. It isn't general for her to do that, usually, she'd be still asleep at this hour and would prefer to wake up at late mornings—probably mid eleven, almost afternoon. I have no idea why she hits me up for such a thing or at least some very important stuff is/are needed to be dealt with but the only way to find out is to meet her as soon as possible.

Once my legs finally made it to her parents' grizzled freehold house—there she sat patiently at their front, grassy porch at the top of a long-lengthen Red Birch storage cabinet. It's laying on the ground in a landscape and she's seating above it like a jolly kid that's about to be tricked and murdered by Pennywise.

"Hey, Juggy, you made it." Y/N beams as soon as she sees me. She stands up from her seating position, bringing me into this lumpy side hug that she always gives whenever we see each other.

She's never girly, not-so-fragile type of girl that it almost made me think she's a tomboy—not in an actual statement, in other terms, boyish. And yeah, I sort of got used to it, all of her gutsy-manful gestures toward me and it's literally fine. Even though things between us changed, her unique sense of expressing herself naturally will never change and I like that. I don't think I'm not going to be able to discover what and how it feels like to personally interact with her feminine side—I wonder if her cheeks would become red if I ever said something so cliché but affectionate words in front of her in a middle of a lovey-dovey moment. Go slow, maybe someday.