The Reader and the Writer (Part 2)
Part one here
Anon requests: can you please do a part two of “The reader and the
writer”? i’m shook, lost and now stressed over who she really is
The Reader and the Writer is amazingggg! Are u gonna do a part 2?? I wanna read more!!
could you do a part 2 of the reader and the writer, i’m obsessed!!!
Is there going to be a part 2 for The Reader and the Writer? Can there be a part 2? I loved it by the way :)
PART TWO OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE OMFG
Omigod, I love your Reader and Writer imagine soooooo much, are you going to write a part two??
OK PLEASE WRITE A PART TWO TO THE READER AND THE WRITER IS WAS SO GOOD!
Wtf?!? The reader and the writer is honestly amazing! I love it 😍 2pt maybe? I wanna know what happens with the reader and Jason
I love love love the reader and the writer, if you aren’t too busy could you please update it with a second part soon? I can’t bear to be left for days without knowing what Jughead found 😂 thanks x
Will there be a part 2 of “the reader and the writer”? Its really good! I hope you will write more of it!
I love this new jughead imagine ! Are you writing a part 2 ?
OH MY GOD PART 2 ASAP
I really love your writing! I’m very excited about part 2 for the Reader and the writer
part 2 of “The Reader and the Writer” ?? it’s greattt 😭
please do a part 2 of the reader and the writer!@@@ I need more!
Can you please do part two or the reader and writer?!?! It is so good!!
The reader and the writer was amazing and i got too attached. Part 2 please if you don’t mind.
Pairing: Jughead x Reader
Description: A confrontation ensues between the reader and the writer
Word count: 887
A/N: I’m glad you guys liked the first part so much! Enjoy part 2!
(Y/N) didn’t return to Pop’s. Every night, Jughead sat in his normal booth typing on his computer, but his eyes constantly flicked up towards the entrance. His friends noticed his shift in attitude.
“Jug,” Archie sat across from him, “you gotta snap out of this.”
“Out of what?” Jughead asked monotonously, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine, Archie.”
“I know you like to sit here and brood all mysteriously,” Veronica interjected, “but this is sad. Just call (Y/N).”
“(Y/N)?” he scoffed. “This isn’t about (Y/N).” When the entire table sent him disbelieving looks, he sighed and looked out the window. “I already called her.”
“How many times?” Kevin asked with a smirk. Jughead sighed again, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
“Every night.” Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin all shared a knowing glance. “I know what you guys are thinking and no, it’s not like that. I’m not some pathetically smitten person, okay?”
“Okay, Jughead,” Betty said, but rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”
To say (Y/N) felt guilty would be an understatement. From the moment she stomped out of that diner, regret gnawed at her inside out. Without the consistency of her nightly stops in Pop’s, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She spent every night after school in her room sulking. Every night, her phone rang, lighting up with Jughead’s name. She was tempted to answer it every night, her finger hovering over the answer button, but then she turned away and ignored his call. (Y/N) missed Pop’s: she missed the delicious foods, the quiet yet comforting atmosphere, and the person who sat across from her in their usual booth.
One day, Jughead sat with an uneaten burger in front of him, laptop closed. Today had been an especially slow day, both in Jughead’s mind and Pop’s. Suddenly, a jingle of the bell signaled that someone new entered the diner. Jughead sat up a bit to see who it was. When he identified the new customer, he perked up immediately. Grabbing a book, he shot up and walked over to the table where she had just sat down.
“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he said, slamming down the book in front of her, “is an author from the 18th century. She wrote four novels, all of them published under an alias at first. It was not until two hundred years later that the true author was discovered. She has been dead for over two hundred years, and she is most certainly not you.” (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes.
“What, I can’t have the same name as someone else?” she fired back, but there was a waver in her voice. Jughead glared as he sat down across from her.
“You see, I would think that, too,” Jughead responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I searched for you online, and I couldn’t find anything on you. Not one thing.”
“I like to keep my life private. I don’t publish stuff about me online.”
“Yeah, but there’s something about everyone on the world wide web if you look hard enough,” Jughead explained, his voice accusingly sharp. “Now I have two theories: one, you’re a very experienced hacker, and you’ve gone and wiped all information regarding you off the internet; or two, you’re hiding something, and you’re using a dead unpopular author’s name to keep your real identity a secret. Personally, I’m choosing the latter, considering how well-read you are.” (Y/N) stared at Jughead with sad, wide eyes. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I wasn’t,” she whispered. Jughead clenched his jaw and shook his head.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, standing up. He began to walk away when (Y/N) shot up from her seat.
“I was born in Riverdale,” she called out to him. Jughead stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.
“I was born in Riverdale,” she repeated slower. Jughead neared the table and sat down across from (Y/N).
“So I-,” she started, “I can’t- I can’t just tell you everything.” Jughead rolled his eyes and began to push his chair out when (Y/N) placed her hand on his, her eyes silently begging him to stay. “If you care, you’ll trust me.”
“What makes you think I care?” Jughead demanded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t move his hands out from under hers.
“Because you called?” she offered, causing Jughead to sit up a little straighter. “You called me every night, Jug.”
“I was worried,” he muttered, looking away. (Y/N) smiled, patted his hand, and stood up.
“Keep writing, Jughead. See you around.” Spinning on her heel, (Y/N) grabbed her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and exited the diner. Jughead’s eyes followed her figure out until the door closed behind her. Then he pulled out his laptop and started to furiously type.
“And so, a little light shined on the dark mystery of Riverdale’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) like the calm before the storm. The writer becomes the reader, the reader becomes the read. I found myself hooked on her just from a little information, like a drug addict craving his fix. New girls can never hide in a small town like Riverdale, but God, I knew (Y/N), in all her enigmatic splendor, would lurk in the shadows of this town for as long as she possibly could.”