#notimminent

Even on a warm day like today, the water at the creek was always startlingly cold. Just so much as putting two feet in would make your bones ache and crave the warmth of the sun beating down on the rocks, and yet people continue to submerge themselves in it anyway, teeth chattering and goosebumps covering their bodies. Boris wasn't one to feel the need to police people and tell them what they could or couldn't do, because he really didn't care and didn't follow the rules that authority set either, but in this case with Emma it was different. He didn't want her getting herself hurt.

𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝚆𝙰𝚂𝙽’𝚃   𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳   𝚃𝙾   𝙷𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙽   ;   in   fact,   it   should’ve   been   the   other   way   around,   wednesday   taking   the   role   of   protecting   emma.   instead,   she   found   herself   taken   as   a   small   feline   by   her   collar,   a   small   grunt   leaving   deathly   pigmented   lips   instinctively.   there   were   many   notions   running   through   her   mind   and   frankly,   none   of   them   were   courteous   in   nature   —   in   fact,   her   mind   has   been   tainted   with   unmannerly   approaches   to   letting   the   other   know   she   wasn’t   enjoying   it   one   bit.   not   to   mention   the   ego   hard   built   over   almost   two   decades,   crumbling   down   in   a   sheer   moment   of   negligence.   but   one   must   pay   for   such   horrendous   mistakes.

obsidians   dart   to   the   side,   like   arrows   aimed   before   shooting,   innerly   judging   emma.      “   you   cannot   be   serious,   ”         this   cannot   be   happening,   she   thinks   to   herself.   the   first   stage   had   settled   in,   denial.   she   was   out   for   jericho’s   next   serial   killer,   who   would   have   also   been   her   mystery   shrouded   stalker   —   she   was   supposed   to   gather   more   information,   or,   if   luck   had   finally   stumbled   upon   her,   catch   the   killer   herself.         “   emma,   let   me   go.   this   is   your   final   chance.   ”         she   uttered   through   gritted   teeth,   unblinking   stare   fixated   on   the   hindrance   that   took   a   shape   and   form   on   its   own.

   It’s unbearably quiet in this room. Of course, the expectation is that each student has their head bent over a book, being studious little angels. But truthfully, Eddie has no interest in some watered down version of historic events. Plus, he’s already done his English homework in class---not that anybody would believe it. So, he sits at one end of the table, twirling a pencil between his fingers and eying the clock on the wall. Enduring thirty more minutes of this seems too much. 

Of  all  the  things  a  masked  superhero  has  to  worry  about,  entering  his  bedroom  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  probably  doesn’t  sound  like  the  most  difficult.  But  in  his  sleepy  Queens  neighborhood,  eyes  were  always  darting  outside  the  windows,  looking  for  the  latest  hot  gossip  that  could  be  spread  around.  Peter  waited  in  a  tree  nearby,  a  chemistry  notebook  open  in  his  lab,  reading  and  taking  notes  until  the  sun  dimmed  and  it  was  time  to  go  home.

One  foot  in,  one  foot  out,  pushing  his  mask  up,  Peter’s  head  was  still  on  the  tree  and  with  organic  chemistry,  it  was  only  a  startled  sound  which  made  him  look  up  and  realize  he  wasn’t  alone.  ❝  Emma!    ❞  The  shock  sent  him  careening  back  outside  the  window,  right  on  top  of  Aunt  May’s  gardenias.  A  blur  of  red  and  blue,  he  quickly  climbed  the  wall  back  and  entered  the  room,  closing  the  window  behind  him  and  tugging  the  curtains  tightly.    ❝  This  isn’t  what  it  looks  like?    ❞  Footsteps  start  up  the  stairs,  Aunt  May’s  gentle  voice  asking  for  him  and  asking  if  Emma  is  going  to  stay  for  dinner.  Looking  between  Emma  and  his  still  costumed  body,  he  proved  himself  a  liar  and  used  his  web  to  close  the  door  before  Aunt  May  could  see  him.        ❝  Okay,  maybe  it  is  what  it  looks  like.  ❞

‘  i’m  begging  for  you  to  take  my  hand  .  ’

He’d  remembered  the  last  words  Emma  spoke  to  him,  the  way  the  two  of  them  had  stood  at  the  old  drive-in  theatre  he  wanted  her  to  see.  Before  bringing  her,  Jughead  hadn’t  returned  in  years,  and  even  then  he’d  been  a  senior  in  high  school,  which  at  this  point  in  his  life  was  almost  a  decade  ago.  So  much  time  had  passed,  so  much  life  lived  —  much  of  it  regretted,  much  of  it  celebrated,  but  not  enough  of  it  making  amends  and  tying  up  loose  ends.

Not  that  Emma  had  ever  been  a  loose  end.  In  fact  she’d  been  the  strongest  knot  of  his  younger  years,  always  a  person  he  could  trust,  even  with  some  of  the  darker  pieces.  Things  he  even  hid  from  Betty.

Now  he  was  back  in  Riverdale  at  the  request  of  Archie  Andrews.  Jughead  would  always  return  if  he  suspected  there  was  hope  in  saving  his  hometown.  It  didn’t  have  the  same  glamour  and  noise  as  New  York  City,  but  that’s  precisely  why  he  loved  it  so.

The  text  message  he  sent  to  Emma  Decody  was  hopeful  and  kind,  telling  her  she  was  welcome  to  meet  him  at  Pop’s  for  a  burger  if  she  wanted  to,  if  their  friendship  was  anything  she  was  interested  in  reminiscing  over.  Well,  he  hadn’t  worded  his  text  to  her  exactly  like  that  —  it  was  more  a  ‘  Hey,  it’s  Jughead.  I’m  back  in  town.  Haven’t  seen  you  in  a  while  —  I’ll  be  at  Pop’s  if  you’d  want  to  stop  by  ?  ‘  and  that  had  been  that.

    “ hey — i’m sorry to hear about your mom. i was kinda gonna say we could adopt each other’s parental figures – my dad already loves you and you always said you were sure your mom would more than tolerate me – but you now have an avenger dad and… well, ”   she trailed off as her eyes averted to the floor next to her. she didn’t mean to be so awkward, she was just so used to bonding with kate over shared interests and she’d made this stupid fantasy in her head that kate’s mom would lowkey adopt her because she’s better than norma bates ever was but that’s not happening. she should console her friend but a weird part of her wants to, for some reason, bond over having shitty mother figures which, like, read the room, decody, now is not the time.  “ i can listen if you ever want to talk? i don’t really have any experience with moms… or good mother figures… so i can sympathize and kind of empathize… if that’s something you need. ”

           An Avenger Dad.  Was that what he was?  The thought brightened her mood for a split second, but it wasn’t nearly enough to keep the crushing weight of what she had done ... and why she had done it from crowding her thoughts.  The lump in her throat was hot and painful, and she found herself rubbing in frustration at the corner of one of her eyes with the heel of a hand.   “No it’s --”  Her voice was rough, catching on that lump,  betraying her, and lips pressed thin for a moment, still trying to plug the dam of negative emotions.  “It’s fine.”  It wasn’t fine.  “I’m fine.”  She wasn’t fine.