✔️ Riverdale Imagines ✔️

🟣 ROW 8 SURPRISE 🟣

ROW 8 WINNER IS YOUNG FP JONES.

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It was always the same with him. He called me when he wanted something, then drop me the next day, once he got it.

I admit it, I'm smart, that doesn't mean he should take advantage of me. We used to be best friends, but that all changed when High School came around. 

Marty Martins used women, and I was no exception, despite the fact I should've been. 

I was sitting in detention, sitting in the back row, drawing in my book. I know what you're thinking. 'Oh Y/n, why are you in detention? You're such a good girl.' Of course it was Marty's fault, this time, I couldn't forgive him for what he had done. No one should ever do that to a person.

"Well, what do you know? It's geeky-freaky," the familiar, and taunting voice of Alice Smith spoke. She liked to tease me, a lot, because of who I am, because I'm smart. Seriously, what's with Riverdale hating people who have an ounce of intelligence?

"I heard she was in here because she was caught having sex with Marty," one girl whispered loudly. Her friend chuckled, before speaking. "As if he'd go near that."

I refused to cry, I refused to seem weak in front of my bullies. I was stronger than they gave me credit for. "Or maybe, just maybe, Marty's a lying ass, who just wanted to get the good girl in trouble."

My mind froze as I tried to figure out who had spoken. The voice seemed somewhat familiar to me, but I couldn't place it. "Oh shove it, Jones," Alice snapped at the boy. "You may have changed your appearance, but you're still a bitch, Alice," the boy replied.

A gasp almost escaped my mouth as I realised who had defended me. FP Jones, the most smoking hot, delicious looking man to walk this planet. He was a God, at least he looked like I imagined a God would.

The two continued to bicker, and while they were bickering, the realisation struck me. He wasn't defending me because he cared, but because he hated Alice. He didn't care for me, how stupid I was for even thinking it for a second.

When the detention was finally over, I waited until everyone left, before leaving myself.

I was walking, when an arm grabbed me. I felt my breathing become heavy. Was Marty going to try continue what he started in class? When he put his hands on me.

"Hey, Y/n, I was wondering if you could help me?" I was relieved as I realised it wasn't Marty, but FP Jones.

Wait, why was FP asking me for help?

"With-with what?" I questioned. "Well, you're smart and I'm," he let out a chuckle, before shaking his head. "I'm not. I need help with this Shakespeare shit, I can't even read it."

I was debating whether or not to help him. Then again, he did defend me against Alice, perhaps this is how I could repay him. "Fine, come to my house after school." I got out my book, writing my address on it, before ripping out the page and handing it to him. "Here's the address."

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I am stupid. Why the flip would I allow FP to come to my house? And what the hell would I wear? Should I dress nice, or just normal?

I shook my head, realising I was just over analysing everything, as always. I put on my casual clothes, not wanting to overdress. I sat up the table with a couple of snacks, since he was a boy, he'd probably get hungry.

After another ten minutes, the doorbell rang. He was here, nobody else ever came around and my parents, they were only here on the weekend.

I opened the door, and FP stood there, smiling his angelic smile. "Hey, Y/N, can I come in?" I nodded my head, allowing the boy to enter.

He grinned as he looked at the table. "You got me food?" I blushed, as I started to fiddle with my fingers. "Not exactly, it's just a few things we have laying around."

We sat down at the table and looked over the work. I was surprised to see he wasn't struggling, in fact, he was much more intelligent than he made out to be.

"Okay, what's going on?" I questioned, folding my arms as I looked at the boy. "You didn't need any help, so why are you here?"

He let out a chuckle, before shaking his head, something he does often. "You're oblivious, Y/n, you know that, right?" He turned to face me. "You don't realise what's been right in front of you, all these years, while you were chasing him." The way he said the word him, was as if it were poison on his mouth.

Why would he hate that I liked Marty?

"I don't understand-" "Of course you don't," he snapped. "You thought it was all him. You thought the flowers you got in fourth grade on Valentines day were him. Or the hand made card that made you smile. Even the sweets, you thought it was all him, but it wasn't, it was me."

My eyes widened as I realised what he was saying. FP Jones had been the one sending me gifts. All these years I thought it was Marty, but no, he was just pretending it was him. Everything made sense, that's why I was told the football boys were bad, because Marty wanted to use me.

"I feel sick." It was all too much for me to take, too much for me to handle. "I didn't realise I was so repulsive," FP joked.

I turned to the boy, and what I did next, shocked both of us. I pressed my lips against his in a hard, passionate kiss. He was surprised, though kissed me back just as passionately.

When we pulled away, the two of us chuckled. We were too misfits, and that was why we were perfect for each other, even if we broke up for a few years, we found our way back to each other

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