Jughead x reader
In which the reader gets drunk after an argument with Jughead, and he has to look after her.
“You will fail this class if you don’t get your grade up, do you understand that?” My teacher asked me, and I rubbed my face, feeling a headache coming on.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll try harder.” I told him. He excused me and I traipsed through the hallway, running through the seemingly endless list of things I had to do. I had signed up for too many advanced classes and extra curriculars, and I was swamped.
I had to talk to two other teachers and catch up on a project, before I could finally go and meet my boyfriend, and hopefully get something to eat. Unfortunately, this did not go to plan. I knew as soon as I walked into the room that Jughead was angry with me. He saw me enter and was immediately on his feet and walking towards me, seething. I stopped in my tracks and desperately tried to rack my brains for whatever I had done.
“Where were you?” He demanded, and I floundered under his gaze, combing through my calendar in my mind to remember what I had missed. I stuttered, and he shook his head disbelievingly. “You don’t even remember what you missed, do you?” He asked. I opened my mouth, but the answer didn’t come to me.
“Um… Was it…” I started helplessly, but couldn’t finish. He looked away from me.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter.” He began to turn away from me, but I desperately ran around him, blocking his exit.
“No, Jughead, please… I’m sorry, I’ve been so caught up in my work. Just tell me what it was, please.” I begged him, holding my hands out to stop him from leaving. He sighed.
“My presentation. You were going to practice it with me before the lesson.”
My stomach dropped as I remembered. Jughead had been so nervous for it, and had only calmed down when I promised to rehearse it with him and help him. I closed my eyes, hitting myself for forgetting something so important to him.
“Jug, I am so-“
“I had to do it without you, Y/N. You promised you’d help me.” He said angrily.
“I know, I know I did. I had to talk to my teachers and I just got caught up.” I tried to explain myself.
‘Yeah you said.” He snapped. “Look, you’re my girlfriend, and I only trusted you to practice it with me. I needed you, and you weren’t there.” My breath caught in my throat at his words. He was right.
“Jughead…” I started, but didn’t know what to say.
“Whatever.” He muttered, pushing past me. “See you.” And with that he was gone. I stared at the space he had left, berating myself. I sighed, picking my bag up and walking to my next lesson. All through the class, I reprimanded myself over and over, wishing I had done today differently.
After school, I saw him leaving and wanted to catch up with him, but I had to go to a tutoring session. I watched helplessly as he walked away from me again, wondering how I would make it up to him.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could have done things differently. I could have set an alarm on my phone, or just been more organized, and Jughead and I would probably be together right now. The stress of the argument with Jughead and my workload, as well as my general anxiety built up when I got home, and I had to forget, so I took a bottle from my parent’s cupboard and started drinking. I didn’t know what it was, but it burnt my throat, made my eyes water, and worked quickly.
I grew flustered and warm, the alcohol and my thoughts overwhelming me, and so I walked into my dark backyard, letting the cold air float over me. I sat on the icy stone steps of my garden and tried to drink my reality away as the sky darkened. It didn’t take a lot of alcohol for me to start crying. I raised my hand to my forehead, clenching my teeth. How could I have done this to Jughead? He had been there for me so many times, and I let him down. I continued drinking, drowning in my guilt and misery. My self-deprecation reached a climax as I vividly replayed the day’s events in my head, Jughead’s words running over and over in my head.
I needed you and you weren’t there
You weren’t there
You weren’t there
You weren’t there
The late-night air grew freezing, but the hot liquid inside my body made me unaware of my numb appendages and chattering teeth. That was until my trembling fingers failed to properly grasp the neck of the bottle, and it slipped out of my grasp and onto the dark stone. It shattered violently and glass flew everywhere, startling me and snapping me out of my thoughts. I opened my mouth, my eyes wide at the amber liquid spreading out across the steps. I felt a sharp pain in my hand and looked down to find a small piece of glass caught in my skin, with a trail of blood leaking out. I pulled it out without thinking, ignoring the pain as I struggled to stand. I needed to talk to him. I needed to apologise. I jumped up and ran up the steps, stumbling when I reached the top. My head felt hollow and I think my hand was still bleeding but I couldn’t tell. Find Jughead.
I found myself at the drive in, where I knew he’d be. I blundered towards the door of the screening room. I was sober enough to know that I was drunk, but my thoughts weren’t clear.
I knocked anxiously on the door, leaning against the wall and feeling utterly desperate. After a few moments, the door swung open and there Jughead was, in all his glory. His hair was a mess and he was in sweatpants, his feet bare and his eyes tired. As I soon as I saw him, the floodgates opened. In my intoxicated state I began desperately rambling and crying at the same time.
“Jughead, oh my god, I had to find you, because- because I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot, and I hate myself and I don’t even know what time it is, but I messed up and I have to fix it.” Hot tears were streaming down my face, and I was struggling to take breaths between what I was saying. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth to say something but I couldn’t stop talking. “I was so, so stupid to forget about your thing, your presentation, I wish I hadn’t done that, and I just really need you to listen to me and I need you to forgive me. I’m an idiot, and I hate myself but I need you.” I stopped talking and continued crying, vaguely aware that most of what I had just said had been unintelligible.
“Okay, okay.” Jughead’s calm voice broke through my stupor as he grabbed my arms and pulled me inside. He pushed me gently onto his bed and kneeled in front of me. I tried to calm myself down but I couldn’t seem to slow my breathing.
“Are you drunk?” He asked me in a deliberate way, as if he already very well that I was. I didn’t answer but just stared at the floor, my breaths uneven. He sighed, standing up and moving around the small room. He came back with a glass of water and put it in my hand, making sure my fingers were tightly grasped around it before he let go.
“Hey, what happened to your hand?” He caught my hand gently and brought it towards him, studying the cut and frowning. He looked up at me, but I just shrugged helplessly, unable to answer him. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I’ll get something for that, just… drink this.” He sounded disappointed, and I was reminded of how much he was supposed to hate me at that moment. I threw back the water, downing it in the hopes that it would stop how I was feeling. I set the empty glass down and put my head in my hands, feeling sick and dizzy all of a sudden.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had let Jughead down, and tears began to slip down my face again, my whole body shaking. I heard him exhale as he sat down next to me on the single bed.
“Y/N.” I screwed my eyes shut, trying to shut him, and everything else I was feeling out. “Y/N.” He said louder, and I looked up at him, sniffing. He held up what looked like a bandage. “Give me your hand.”
I held my arm towards him and he delicately took my hand in his own. I watched him as he cleaned it, but he didn’t look up at me once, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. I didn’t even wince as he poured alcohol on it, the burning sensation nothing compared to the pain in my head. He finished, gently pressing a bandage onto the cut and making sure it was stuck down properly before finally looking up at me. I left my hand in his as he stared at me, his light eyes studying my face before meeting mine. I took a deep breath, determined to make him hear me this time.
“Jughead.” I tried to force the whirlwind of thoughts in my head into coherent sentences. “I am so sorry.” My lip shook and tears built in my eyes again. “I let you down, and I have no excuse. You… you needed me and I wasn’t there.” A tear slipped from my eye and rolled down my cheek. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” I looked him in the eye, trying to get across how serious I was. There was quiet for a moment as he looked at me, nodding his head ever so slightly. He was still holding my injured hand, and started lightly rubbing my knuckles with his thumb as he smiled tenderly at me.
“It’s okay.” He whispered, and I took a sharp breath in. I briefly wondered if I had misheard him.
“Are you sure?” I asked unsurely, my eyes wide. He chuckled quietly.
“I’m sure.” An emotional smile spread across my face at his words, and I gripped his hand tightly as tears continued to run down my face. I desperately attempted to wipe them away with my other hand, but to no avail. He shook his head at me, smiling.
“Come here.” He murmured, moving his hand from mine to reach for me. He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, his hand on the back of my neck. I put my hands on his chest and relished the feeling of being close to him. When we separated, I leant into him automatically and he put his arm around me. He shifted his body along the small bed, leaning back and bringing me with him so we were lying down, me against his chest. We lay silently as I listened to his heartbeat and tried to calm myself down. He began softly playing with my fingers, being careful to avoid my wound.
“What did you do to yourself, hm?” His lips ghosted my forehead as he whispered the question to himself. “I never wanted this.” I closed my eyes.
“I know. I’m sorry.” His chest vibrated underneath me slightly as he laughed softly, and it brought an instinctive sleepy smile to my face.
“I think you’ve said that enough for one night.” My face was pressed against his body in the quiet room, and I felt my senses numb as my head grew heavy and my breathing slowed. He might’ve said something else after that, but I wouldn’t have known, as I slipped into a drunken, emotionally-exhausted sleep. I knew I would feel like death in the morning, but it didn’t matter. I had him, and I wasn’t going to let him go again.
a sad drunk
aaaa this was fun to write (
it’s really bad though sorry)
btw in this imagine Jughead is still living at the drive in, because I thought it worked better than Archie’s house