#Imagine she tries to drop it but it doesn't fall and she's halfway through her dramatic reaction

[sophieswundergarten]

How many times do you think they had Rhonda practice dropping the pencil down the grate? Because, a lot of grates have pretty narrow gaps to avoid important things being lost, and pencils are kind of light, so I'm betting it took at least some expertise to get it through the holes

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 Damian

If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.

And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?

Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.

And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.

But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.

After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.

And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.

And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.

This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.

But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.

He wants to go home.

And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.

And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.

And it's not happening.

But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.

And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.

But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.

And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.

There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.

And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.

This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?

And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.

Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.

And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.

"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.

"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.

And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.

That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.

It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.

[ro-botany]

you mentioned you have thoughts on rkc and lucina and now you HAVE to elaborate. please. i beg of you. og timeline rkc meeting lucina and she knows that this is her father. her real father. and all this time she's been trying to honor his legacy in all she does when it's his body standing in her way. the agonies. THE AGONIES

I was planning to drop a post about Luci in a few days or so, but y’know what? I’m easy to persuade. You’ve unlocked it early. Let’s GO. I'm gonna get halfway to writing an entire fanfic in this answer and no one can stop me.

See. There's nothing saying that RKC and Lucina (our Lucina, that we see in the main game of Awakening) can't have come from the same timeline. All Lucina ever says on the subject of Chrom's death is that there were rumours he was killed by someone close to him. She doesn't specify anything otherwise, and mentioning his death does not preclude him becoming undead.

And the thing that really gets me is that if they're hailing from the same timeline... they had to have met at some point. It would be weirder if they didn't meet at some point, because Chrom was on the front lines of Grima's offensive, and Lucina was also on the front lines a lot of the time. Not to mention the question of how Lucina gets her hands on the falchion to begin with. No, Risen King Chrom and Lucina absolutely met on opposite sides of a battlefield.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Do you know how I think their first meeting in the context of their own world would go?

---

Lucina thought he was dead. The news of his death had reached her years ago, and she'd grieved him. Through all her countless fights against the risen dead she'd hoped—and gods does it seem naive now—that he wasn't among them, in spite of the rumours that he'd been seen fighting in the fell dragon's colours.

And it would be one thing if it were just his body facing her. A monster in the shape of a man like every other Risen. But she sees how his ashen face contorts from fury to outright terror at the sight of her, and the half-formed lie that that thing isn't really her father falls to pieces. The Risen standing before her, clutching his head so hard his claws are scoring his own skin and hesitating like none of them ever do, is Chrom.

His hesitation gives her time to get over her own shock enough to dodge when he runs at her and swings the Falchion anyway.

That battle, that first meeting, is the single hardest fight against the magic binding him that Chrom ever put up. Not his daughter. Not his own daughter. When he's not straining to make his swings into misses or to aim for his own limbs, he's begging her to run, please, he can't stop this. But despite his efforts, he has two decades of fighting experience on her and Grima stepping in directly to make him end this faster. It's all Lucina can do to put up a frantic defence, nevermind find a moment to turn and flee. Until Chrom abruptly stumbles to a stop, drops Falchion, doubles over with his head in his hands and screams for her to RUN ALREADY. She grabs Falchion and then books it.

After an encounter like that she should be inconsolable. But there's no time for weakness in war.

---

The first time they faced off may well have been the last. I imagine Grima wasn't thrilled with the outcome. If putting Lucina down upsets Chrom so much he can fight their influence that effectively... Well, they'll just have to do it themself, because they can't have her running around trying to stop them. Cue the cutscene several years later where Grima tries to kill Lucina in Ylisstol.

It's also possible Grima couldn't track Lucina closely enough or orchestrate the war carefully enough to always keep the two of them from coming near each other. So it's fully possible Lucina saw Chrom again years down the line, and saw how he eventually just... gave up. How he went from actively rattling the bars of his cage to just grimly executing people.

I can only think she must've placed all the blame for his actions onto Grima, even after he started being more of an active participant in battles. She's so fiercely dedicated to honoring her father's legacy, and so protective of his life after she goes back in time, and that aspect of her character gets so much more of a kick to it if you consider the version where she saw exactly what became of him. It's not just a rumour of his death that she's acting on there, she knows his fate and she refuses to let that happen again.

For RK Chrom's part... I think having to fight Lucina and grapple with the knowledge that she's trying so hard to find a way to defeat Grima is worse for him than if she'd just quietly died off screen. He can't just not think about that now. He has to actively hurt her, and keep hurting her, and know that she's clinging to a plan that's complete folly. He is so so very steeped in guilt and regret.

...Man, this isn't even touching on how them meeting in another context might go. Like in Askr or post-credits Awakening or something. That would be a whole situation by itself. But this post is so long already.

These two just kill me. This shit is a large part of why RKC's existence enhances the story of Awakening so much for me. The AGONIES.

[mountttmase]

OH GIRL I FORGOT YOUR MASTERLIST STARTS WITH SMUT, WELL LET'S HAVE SOME FUN🤭

An Unexpected Visitor is the first oneee

‘Anything you want to share with the class?’ Your boss joked, catching you with your phone in your hand halfway through a very important meeting. Your face flushed out of embarrassment and also what you’d just seen on your phone. I THINK IT'S BETTER IF SHE DOESN'T SHARE

‘Oh y/n, a Mason Mount turned up saying he had an appointment with you? i couldnt see anything in your diary but he assured me it was meant to be going ahead so I told him he could wait in your office’ she told you. Of course he was here and of course he’d managed to charm the pants off her too in order to get into your office but the way you were feeling right you didn’t want to look at him. LOOK WHO'S HERE

‘Are you serious, Mason? Sending me nudes while I’m in a meeting?’ HE'S SUCH A TEASE

The fact he was sat there, legs spread wide, hands on his thighs and the stupid grin still on his face made you even more furious. Clearly he was in a teasing mood today, only made more obvious by the way he looked you up and down whilst licking his lips slowly in order to try and seduce you. GOD, THAT'S A MYSTIC VISION

‘You’re in my seat’ you told him crossing your arms and he raised his eyebrows at you before standing up from behind your desk and making his way over you you. He stopped right in front of you, his hands on your waist and his breath fanning over your face. You refused to touch him back but you couldn’t help looking up into his lust filled eyes. OUR BOSSY WOMAN

‘You can’t be serious? I’m at work you idiot’ you scolded him and he winked at you in response. ‘Fuck you’ you breathed, a slight chuckle falling from your lips at his brazenness, before you unlocked your laptop to check your emails. ‘That a threat or a promise?’ He enquired but you just ignored him, glancing over your screen before standing up to find a file on the other side of the room. HE IS SOOO SILLY🤭🤭

‘We really shouldn’t be doing this’ you whispered, your mind no longer thinking about the file you were looking for. .... ‘No, don’t stop’ you told him, and you felt him smile against your neck before detaching himself from you. He pulled you by your hand to turn you around, finally planting his lips on yours in a slow but heavy kiss. AHHAHAHA GIRLLLL

‘You forget Mason, we’re in my office so I make the rules’ you told him, slowly spreading your legs so he could get a peek at your underwear and his eyes shot down to look there immediately. SORRY MOUNT

‘So worried about what them lot out there think about you, if only they could see you now’ he said quietly and you bit your lip to stop any moans. ‘I bet you’d love to put on a show for them, show them what a good girl you can be?’ OH🫠🫠🫠🫠

THE SMUTTT

‘Shit, sorry baby. Two seconds and I’m done yeah’ he told you, moving from behind you to pick your underwear up, handing them back over to you with a sheepish grin. He helped you put them back on, dropping a soft kiss on your lips when you were all sorted and you couldn’t help but smile. He was a pain in the arse but he was yours. ‘You okay?’ His whispered, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again, rocking you from side to side. HE IS SOOOOO CUTE

‘Thank you for your time, Miss y/l/n. I’ll be in contact again soon’ he told you, stopping to face you and outstretching his hand for you to shake. You cottoned after a second or two, following his lead and shook his hand whilst giving him a smile. AHAHHAH, JUST A FEW HOURS

‘I’m impressed’ he nodded and you let out a little breath of relief. ‘Productive meeting I take it?’ YOU CANT IMAGINE HOW MUCH

THE QUEEN OF SMUT IS IN TOWN 🤭🤭🤭

I LOVEE THAT, THE WAY THE TWO OF THEM TRIED TO BE DOMINANT BUT COULDN'T LAST CAUSE THEY JUST NEEDED EACH OTHER SOOOO BAD🫠🤭

AS ALWAYS A MASTERPIECE 🌺🩷

LAST ONE OF THE NIGHT FOR YOU TOO

SEE YOU TOMORROW, SAME HOUR SAME PLACE🤭😌

Omg this was the first fic I ever posted 😭 that’s hilarious. She was such a girl boss and he loved getting to see her in charge 😏

But you’re the sweetest ever thank you so much for this i can’t believe I get feedback for all of them

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[anordinarymuse]

could you do a kaz imagine based on “the moment I knew” by taylor swift?? super angst but with a happy ending 🥺 ily thank u

my dumbass thought this was for a diff char and made a whole plot for somebody else rip it's ok though enjoy and ily2 <3

departure.

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Summary : you are grisha btw a heartrender bc i'd want

Warnings : angstyish idk i tried; unedited.

Word Count : 756

A/N : i'm halfway through Crooked Kingdom.

the masterlist.

request here.

You hand your heavy second hand trunks to a sailor on the dock. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, feeling all the heartbeats of those around you pumping at different rates. You quickly open your eyes back up.

Turning back around, away from facing the boat, you study the twisty turns of the Ketterdam that lay in the far distance. The dingy smell of the city lingers in the air, mixing with the salty sea breeze. The mist of the ocean waters dust around you, leaving everything slightly damp.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice shouts, you snap your head to that direction.

"Nina?" Your ask, grinning, as she runs up to you hugging you tight. Masking the scent of cross-contaminated air is the wafting of sweet syrup and waffles surrounds Nina.

"Inej and Jesper couldn't come, something with something. I'm not to sure they didn't reveal anything," Nina's voice is filled with sorry, but you don't mind. You'd already said goodbye to them earlier that day, and if they had come you were afraid of shedding tears.

"When do you have to board?" Nina asks, staring at the large boat.

"Soon," you reply, taking a glance at your watch. Nina, for some reason, seemed angsty. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"I do. I have an appointment thing that couldn't be switched," Nina responds sheepishly, her cheeks turning a light pink, "Have you seen Kaz?"

You bite your lip at Kaz's name, you hadn't seem since you told him when you were leaving. You were almost sure he was trying to avoid you, but you had no idea why, "I haven't."

"I'm sure he'll at least say bye," hesitance is lined in her voice. "I'm so sorry but I have to go now. I'm going to miss you so much, Y/N."

Nina pulls in for a second hug and you whisper, "Me too, Nina, write me if you can?"

"I will, promise," she squeezes you tight before letting you go, waving as she hesitantly walks away, "Bye!"

"Bye!" You wave you arm in return, watching as Nina starts as a figure then turns to a speck of nothing.

You sigh, your heart feeling heavy. When you turn back to look at the boat, a tug makes a you almost regret the decision of leaving Ketterdam. But when you think about it for a moment longer you know that you have to get back to Ravka.

Turning back around to get last looks at Ketterdam, you stare at the path that leads to the dock. You envision Kaz walking down the gravel road but you bite your lower lip when he doesn't appear.

One of the sailors walk past you and your voice is shaky when you speak to him, "Can we wait for a moment?"

The sailor looks down at his watch and looks back at you lacking any sympathy, "All I can give you is five minutes."

You nod, shoulders dropping. You stand and wait at the edge of the dock, not wanting to board to the boat quite yet. If you did Kaz not saying farewell would feel too real.

Is he really not going to come?

I should've known better.

How could I let my hopes get so high?

You feel sorry for yourself as you turn your heel, taking the two steps it takes to get aboard the ship. The bell to begin untying the boat from the posts rings, and it only makes you feel worse.

You lean against the railing of the deck, so far you almost fall off. Your eyes subconsciously study the dock, wishing Kaz would just appear.

You can hear the taunting of sailors when you really do almost fall of the side of the boat but you do your best to ignore them.

When the second to last bell rings your stomach turns, and disappointment ensues. However, as you take a last glance at the dock a shadowed figure in the far distance is running, better hobbling.

"Kaz?" Your voice high in disbelief, you can feel the drop in you jaw as the unmistakable Kaz Brekker, gloved hands, fedora and all, makes his way across the gravel path to you on the deck of the boat.

"Y/N," he replies softly not flinching when you hug him, holding him tight in your arms not wanting to let go.

"What's that?" You ask, eyeing the sturdy leather box Kaz holds by the handle. Kaz's expression remains the same but the feeling of suspicion arises.

"My luggage."

**********

taglist : @marimorena06 @missryerye @agirlwholovescoffee @nicole198205 @blackpinkdolan @gabitanaka47 @psychowanarchist @siriuspvdfoot @hufflepuffflowers @thatguppienamedbae @peachykeen3502 @missryerye @kaslupin @ayla-1605 @chazzyb73 @youngblood199456 @oranee @silly-little-bl0g @bobbyjohnsonbeat @jasgreen101 @will-to-live-who @erinblack003 @bellatrixscurls @krishavania @wh0re4blaise @thegirlwhocriedlupin @mrsaliciamalfoy @wwweasleystan @modernvellichor @westantheweasleys @lolaperezb @savagelysarcasticslytherin @zaraskyla @v4l3nt1n44 @sirisuorionblack @rinbyo @xdancinggurlx @lupinsravenclaw @hogwarts-boys @inglourious-imagines @siriuslyslyslytherin @kykymyeon @amwitherspoon @the-abyss-gazed-back @eunoia-kth @kaqua @grishaverse7 @aus10-matthews @losers-club6 @chewiethecatus @i-padfootblack-things

[boop-le-snoot]

BUTT-DIAL? NO, BOOTY CALL | tony stark

explicit, 5,4k words. wrong number text, family shame & wedding drama that isn't even his and a ruined first date. despite the implications of the situation, both reader and tony are very entertained. meet-ugly series, part three.

[no y/n, no "you", no name, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

💚 masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq 💚

Another sunny day spent wasted in a conference room full of boring, old, conceited chairmen. Tony Stark vehemently refused to commiserate with them, their boring speeches and blunt, straightforward thinking. Sitting through a meeting was like walking on nails barefoot: painful, pointless. Mind-numbing.

His phone beeped loudly and he reached into his pocket, pretending to not see Pepper's disapproving look. Both of them knew he was hoping for a sudden Assemble call - that would surely get him out of the meeting - but as much as he hoped, they never struck at the right time.

Except, this time it wasn't a call for assistance, and neither it was an automated spam message with Pizza Hut promo codes. Tony's eyebrows drew close and his lips upturned as he read and re-read the obvious rant written on his screen, typing up his answer before he managed to resist the morbid curiosity that was fueled by his boredom.

Whoever it was, they were justifiably angry and the whole situation was almost too comical to be true, except he'd known people exactly like the runaway bride, selfish, greedy and stupid. He totally understood the woman's desire to just go and load up on tequila shots somewhere - so he bid her a haste farewell, all the while snickering to himself.

"It's Rogers," Tony offered in the way of explanation to a glaring Pepper, locking his phone away and settling in to continue pretending he was listening as another old, crusty white man offered his input on topics he was too much of a dinosaur to even really know about.

He couldn't stop thinking about the incident over the days, the story making him snort more times than he could count as the memory randomly crossed his mind in the lab, at the coffee pot or during dinner. So when a message came through from that very same number, the smirk snuck up onto his face before he even read its contents.

A brief crash course in memes from Parker had turned out to be more useful than ever. Irritating Rogers with pictures got old very fast, however, in moments Tony got rendered speechless they proved to be the perfect substitute for trying to articulate all his thoughts on the matter.

Celebrity appearance, she said? More likely than one would think. The engineer had nearly doubled over in a fit of laughter when she'd texted him that; obviously, the woman had no clue who she was texting with and he decided to further indulge in his curiosity by asking for her name: Friday did the rest.

A phone number and a name, ten minutes, and all her social media were free for him to stalk. Investigate- uh, observe. With little effort, Tony found both her and her brother, the unlucky groom, and the runaway bride and even her step-dad. On paper, they all looked like average middle-class families. Nothing seemed amiss.

It didn't mean anything, but Tony caught himself thinking about the woman. Perhaps it might have been the mischievous gleem in her eyes that was easily spotted in every picture or perhaps the raunchy sense of humour not much different from his own. Pretty, witty and smart - what's there not to like?

"So that's why you've been going around, smiling like a middle-schooler with a crush," Natasha's voice whisper-shouted in Tony's ear as the spy discreetly peered over his shoulder into his phone. He had the chat pulled up, debating on starting a casual conversation-

"Jesus Christ, Romanoff, somebody needs to put a bell on you," Tony snapped, startled, pressing the button to lock his phone immediately.

"Uhuh," The redhead replied, side-eyeing a snickering Barnes. "Who is she?"

Tony rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a blush starting to creep in. He felt like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and the rest of the team acting like children wasn't helping the matter. "I got a butt-dial text about some wedding drama. Some chick's brother's fiance was fucking her own stepdad and ditched the wedding for her old man."

Stunned silence settled briefly into the room as Romanoff's eyes widened and Barnes choked on his orange juice. Serves him right, Tony thought, and continued his coffee-making process in quiet irritation.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Wilson half-laughed half-yelled. "You gotta spill the tea, man, this sounds too good to be true. Stories like that just don't fall into your hands."

With a sigh, he recounted the woman's story and read the texts aloud, silencing his snickering enough to be able to keep a straight face - but not for long, Rogers decided it was the time for another one of his Captain America Is Disappointed In You speeches and Tony himself couldn't even disagree.

Now that he thought about it, he came off as a kind of asshole. She and her family was going through something traumatic and he went and treated it like free entertainment. Which, to be fair, it was, but she didn't deserve to be treated like a circus clown. She actually seemed like a good sister and friend.

"Just text her," Natasha rolled her eyes at him, grabbing the coffee pot out of his frozen hand. "You're not Steve, you can keep a decent conversation via text."

Being compared to Steve and his pre-historic messaging habits really did a number on Tony's ego; the eyeroll he gave Romanoff was truly out of this world, all but teleporting him to his lab where he tried to find a way to approach the woman without coming off as incredibly creepy, as if the fact that he'd stalked her on social media didn't already put him firmly into the weirdo category.

Most likely, Tony would have spent many many days on overthinking before just grabbing one of his suits to make a truly impressive landing on her small balcony downtown; thankfully, fate had intervened and saved him from making another epic mistake. He'd made a note to ask Thor about it sometime, settling down with his tablet and popcorn bowl to watch TV on the team's movie night.

Or, more precisely, Tony settled in to watch the drama unfold as the various members of the team fought tooth and nail for the film that they wanted to watch. He never cared about it much, dozing off halfway through most of them - his teammates had the worst taste in movies - so he didn't bother joining the scuffle except when it was Peter's turn to pick. For obvious reasons.

"If you can't decide I'm gonna have someone else pick a movie," Natasha rolled her eyes, equally fed up with fully grown adults acting like spoiled toddlers.

With a stutter of his breath, Tony's hand reached for his phone as he had an Idea.

Seconds tickled as the "typing..." bubble appeared and disappeared multiple times. She must think he's just a thirsty frat boy; Tony's brow furrowed, but the curiosity was far too strong in him. Something about her vibe, her feisty nature captivated him and kept him thinking about her.

The agreement came as a surprise. In the two minutes the woman had spent thinking up her answer, Tony prepared himself to be rebuffed gently, or, worst case, be called a creep. But no - she agreed, but not before vehemently insisting that if he would end up being a creepy serial killer, she would haunt his ass for the remainder of his life.

Friday couldn't come soon enough. Tony spent most of the day loitering between his lab and the penthouse, glancing at his phone every now and then to make sure she wouldn't cancel on him last minute. The engineer wanted to see the witty, no-filter-having woman in the flesh.

And see her, he did. He'd pulled up in front of the hole-in-the wall Ramen&Bar place Clint had been raving about weeks prior - contrary to popular belief, Tony was perfectly fine with going to places that didn't have Michelin stars - and leaned against the door of his Audi R8, eyes immediately taking note of the figure calmly walking down the street, head tilted down where she was typing up a reply to him.

Tony smirked as she lifted her face up to see him, mouth immediately falling open. The shock was obvious; it lasted mere seconds until her shoulders dropped and she sighed almost... In disappointment. He frowned.

"I jinxed it, didn't I? Here's my celebrity appearance," The laugh was a little nervous and quite sardonic. "Hi, Tony, nice to finally see you."

He smiled, unsure, quipping back easily. "Let's face it, I'm not the worst famous Tony out there." Opening the door of the building for the woman, she stepped in eagerly enough, eyes immediately falling on the bartender and the few dimly lit tables in the back.

"Not by any means," She turned towards him, walking backwards. Tony met her stare; it was just like he'd imagined it to be, curious, mischievous and a little daring. She didn't even attempt to play subtle, raking over him from head to toe. "Not at all, I think," She gave another teasing smile, finally turning around, addressing the bartender and rattling off her order without as much as looking at the menu.

Tony couldn't stop staring. He was aware it was creepy, she was aware of his clever brown eyes barely paying attention to their surroundings or the beer or the food. The woman just quirked an eyebrow every time she caught him. His curiosity couldn't wait any more. "Why aren't you freaking out?" He blurted out, cursing himself out almost immediately after the words left his mouth.

"My almost-sister-in-law was fucking her own stepdad," The woman deadpanned. "I ran out of fucks to give, sorry." She thoughtfully chewed her food, briefly looking to the side. "Not to sound like an asshole, but don't you have enough people fawning over you? Doesn't it get old?"

Tony nodded, choosing to stay silent on the matter besides offering an amicable, "That's valid."

The mischief lit up again in her eyes. "You look taller on TV," She snorted, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at his face full of outrage. He sputtered, muttering something about audacity of some people, which made her only laugh harder. "Here's a pro tip from my 4'11 bestie: when someone calls you short, you snarl at them and say you're fun-sized. She swears by it," The woman remarked conversationally, grinning a two hundred watt smile.

Tony was glad at least someone was enjoying their little... Date. "And you know all about fun, don't you?" He aimed for grumpy; it came out as teasing. His famous smirk made a return appearance as he watched her throat bob.

The atmosphere between them had changed at some point; the same old routine of teasing and dancing around each other, but this time, Tony all but purred in satisfaction, finally meeting someone who was an even match to his wit and charm.

"I do," She replied with that cocky confidence, her devil eyes lighting up, lingering on his face. "Got a problem with that?"

The plate was pushed away, napkin falling into the food carelessly as he gestured for the waiter to bring the check. "As a scientist, I cannot confirm whether a theory is true until I have direct evidence," The bullshit flowed easily from his mouth, but the woman appeared to be amused by it - for a change. "M'fraid I'm gonna need that evidence," His fingers drummed on the table, impatiently, inches away from her hand.

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Her voice dropped, she was fully aware of what she was doing by calling him that. That, and those deep, magnetic eyes made Tony's trousers feel a little too tight for comfort.

His phone rang loudly, dissipating the atmosphere they had created with a shrill noise. Captain Cockblock struck again.

Fumbling fingers, Tony tapped the green icon, shooting an apologetic look to the woman. "Rogers, there better be another alien invasion or I'm revoking your phone privileges," The woman chortled, taking a sip of her beer, trying hard not to seem like she was listening in and failing spectacularly at it. "Today, out of all days? Can't Strange fill in for me?" The engineer palmed his face, running a hand through his neatly done-up hair. It would be covered in soot and sweat in an hour anyways. "Fine, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Romanoff better be hauling Barton's lazy ass out of Bed-Stuy." With a frown, Tony poked the red icon and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, looking for all and all, like an angry adolescent.

The woman, however, didn't indicate any signs of displeasure. Her hand timidly reached out for his, giving it a brief squeeze. "Go, save the world, Mr. Stark," Her smile was sympathetic. They both stood up at the same time, Tony watching her incredulously as the woman untied a scrap of red fabric from around her neck and placed it around his wrist, tying the fabric with a loose but, frankly, pretty knot. "I like that bandanna, would be a shame if you didn't return it," She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Tony snorted, fondly rolling his eyes, before beelining for the door, activating his Iron Man suit on the way out. Turning around before take off, he noticed her throw a couple of crumpled bills to the server who was too busy ogling him.

He forgot to pay for dinner, Tony realized as he made his way to the other part of the city. Well, fuck, he would definitely have to see her again.

---

An alien invasion during her first good date in ages - scribble, scribble, sigh. She couldn't do much more than that - just as she thought her string of bad luck had ended, the world turned around and flipped her a juicy bird, all but laughing straight in her face. Like that already wasn't enough, oh no, she groused as she spied the debris and random abandoned cars on her way home - it looked like some portion of the battle had been close to her home and only the sheer mental exhaustion that resulted from her life being turned upside down during the last month prevented her from having a full-on freak-out in the middle of the eerily quiet street.

Truly, the fucks she had to give had been expired.

The gloomy mood was interrupted by a cry - for help or of outrage, she didn't know, but the kindness in her, the very values she'd been raised with didn't allow her just to walk by, and with another resigned sigh, she tucked the nice blouse she'd put on for the date under her warm sweater and set off in the direction of the sound, finding the culprit in little under a couple of minutes.

Freeing the trapped civilian wasn't easy but, thankfully, neither it required super-strength or any kind of heavy machinery. The man thanked her and with him in tow, both of them set off to inspect nearby nooks and crannies. Logic won that day - if there's was one person, there could be more.

Hours later, sweaty, sore and bruised, the woman greedily chugged the water bottle someone had passed onto her as the amount of medics and firefighters had finally reached the threshold of when her help wasn't needed anymore. While her date and his colleagues fought whatever nasty that thought NYC was a sandbox battleground for their amusement, the woman found herself helping out with retrieval & evacuation of the civilians that didn't make it out of the neighborhood before the heat of the fight reached it. There were no deaths registered as of then and deep inside, she felt proud, knowing that she had contributed to the statistic at least a little.

Her phone was dying, her body was covered in dirt and scratches from head to toe and the bruises were beginning to ache. Tony's worry-worting was cute but the tiredness overcame her, making her brain sluggish and her demeanor short, so she hastily pocketed the phone, trailing over to the closest man in uniform she could spot.

"Sir?" She addressed him, eyeing the unfamiliar logo on his jacket. "Can I go, please?" She pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the makeshift medical station.

"I'm going to have to see your ID first," He replied apologetically, tapping away on his tablet.

With a sigh, she dug through her purse, giving it to him and using the brief moment of respite to smooth back her hair and dust off her clothing. There was a cloud of concrete and dirt surrounding her.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet, Mr. Stark left strict instructions for you to be picked up by him personally," The agent gave the ID back with a suspicious glint in his eye.

"Oh c'mon," The annoyed whine escaped her lips before she registered it. "It was our first date," She offered to the puzzled agent, only succeeding in making him lean back and inspect her with a raised eyebrow. "Bye," She replied none too kindly, walking off to find a place to sit down.

The time passed in a strange way. The aches and pains and exhaustion made it stop, and if someone would have asked her, she wouldn't know how much of it has passed until her eyes reluctantly cracked open at the sound of a familiar voice, coming to see a pair of expensive shoes covered in dust. At least she wasn't the only one that looked like she'd taken a roll through someone's gritty attic.

"Morning, you Tasmanian Devil," Tony sounded jovial, all things considered.

"Hello to you too, Tin Can," The woman greeted him on par, without missing a beat.

"Now, now," He offered her his hand, which she took gratefully, before pulling her to her feet. "I come with peace offerings. Your building is under quarantine and I've got a perfectly good bed and a shower with thirty settings on it at my place. Whatcha say?"

She only pretended to think about it. Her reply was haste. "I don't make a habit of going into strange dudes' towers but I'll make an exception this once." A shower and a bed sounded heavenly.

Finally getting the chance to look at him, Tony appeared to be unhurt but equally exhausted and dirty. A few scrapes on his face and arms, he was missing his blazer, and had a weary tone to his face. Some parts of his Iron Suit were still on him - like the chest plate - but besides that, he was whole. The red of the bandanna she gave him was equally dirty but still neatly tied around his wrist, just like she left it.

"How's your relationship with heights?" He asked her and all she could do was blink, watching curiously as his body was enveloped by the red and gold, crawling over his skin like a swarm of shiny termites. That was all the warning she got before the metal arms - quite literally - sweeped her off her feet. "Faster this way," She could hear the nonchalant shrug in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. "Now hold on."

Awe and fear culminated inside the woman but the weariness had long since surpassed comfortable levels and all she did was give a weak nod and close her eyes as Tony lifted off, gusts of wind making her skin break out in goosebumps and her hair stand up wildly on her head. During the short trip her eyes fluttered open only once just to close back up immediately - all she saw were clouds, white and fluffy, like marshmallows, and the shining beacons of NYC skyscrapers somewhere far away.

The paralyzing anxiety fully dissipated only when her feet found purchase on the tiled floors, Tony's arms never ceasing to support her swaying frame until the breaths she took were her own and not the result of her fluttering heart and muted panic. "You with me, Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, Weird Science," She mumbled. "Thanks for the heads up," The annoyance had to find a way out and that it did.

"You're welcome," The cocky smirk returned to Tony's face as his suit receded, leaving him barefoot, dirty jeans and a torn tee. He stretched with a sweet groan, gesturing towards the door. "Friday will direct you towards the showers. Feel free to grab a t-shirt from the closet."

The woman nodded, too awestruck by the man and his hospitality, eyes darting all over the tastefully decorated room, the expensive knick-knacks scattered everywhere, the absolutely enormous sloppily made bed. Tony Stark liked to live luxuriously - even the shower was a state of the art technological wonder.

Dirty pants and dusty blouse went flying somewhere in the back of the bathroom as the woman stood up on her tippy toes, reaching for the sky, stretching her sore muscles. The glass wall of the shower had began to fog up from the hot water. The knock went barely noticed by the woman who jumped as Tony's voice startled her out of her daydream.

"Forgot I ran out of towels here..." He trailed off, voice dropping as he spotted her only in her underwear. She turned, responding with a lopsided grin, spying the stack of fluffy grey in his arms, the arc reactor in the middle of his bare chest. He smirked, "Damn. Can I join you?" Giving her what only could be described as a respectful once-over.

Tired as she was, her sense of humour and wit didn't go down for a much needed nap just yet. "I don't know, you tell me. Can you?" Turning back around, the woman made a short show of unclasping her bra and tossing it in the general vicinity of her dirty clothing pile. She'd worn a cute matching set of undies that day and the fact didn't go over Tony's head, she was sure.

The door clicked shut just as she raised her face to the stream of water, feeling calmer with each second, muscles relaxing themselves as the hot stream washed away the dirt and the dust off her body.

"And I thought this evening was ruined," Tony's voice insinuated from behind her. A hand reached for the soap, his body heat scorching compared to the steaming water. He stayed just a few inches away, enough to feel him, enough for her body to respond and crave more. "It's nice to be wrong for a change. Refreshing."

The woman hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through her wet, knotted hair. "First decent evening in ages. I wasn't gonna let some uninvited Predator knock-offs ruin it for me," She was more than a little peeved at the space invaders interrupting her nice date. Tony was a great conversationalist, it was easy to talk to him and he had a brilliant sense of humour. Not to mention the obvious, he was easy on the eyes.

"That's the spirit," The voice was closer now, almost in her ear. Even though her eyes were closed, the woman was aware he was reaching for something, letting him butt her hands out of the way to lather her hair, scrubbing at her scalp meticulously, until the sounds that left her mouth bordered on embarrassing. Once that was done, Tony moved onto her body, running his hands over her back, the outside of her hips. "M'not stepping over, am I?" He asked quietly, touch faltering every time he brushed over a scrape or a bruise.

"No, you're doing great, Tony," It wasn't exactly conventional - sharing a very intimate shower after an interrupted first date, but then again, nothing about this man was conventional and her life had already been turned upside down no less than twice recently. The woman didn't lie, the gentle, caring touch felt soothing.

Arching her back, she lifted her arms to repay him with the same, raking her fingers through his hair, leaning into the shudder that ran throughout his body. It was nice to bask in whatever they had going on, so the motion to face him was almost reluctant. Water droplets stuck to his eyelashes and his eyes were tired but not in a way that suggested he'd kick her out first chance.

Their kiss was sweet, slow, like they already were familiar with each other in a special way. The woman tugged on his lip with her teeth - such was her character - and he pressed closer to her, raising a hand to hold the side of her face. In muted curiosity, she couldn't help but wonder if there ever had been someone that waited for him once his battles were over.

Tony's eyelashes, the very same that had no business being this long on a man, fluttered against her cheek as they stood under the shower, letting water wash away the day.

"I've always wanted to kiss in the rain, like they do in the movies. This is the closest I've gotten," She whispered, gently kneading the arch of his shoulders. "Feels better than it looks, to be honest."

Tony snorted, reaching for the knob to turn it off. "Cheesy," He teased her, wrapping a warm, fluffy towel around her body. Both people made quick work of drying themselves, exiting the fogged up bathroom, making way into the bedroom, padding soft on the carpet and falling down on the bed carelessly.

"I'm the queen of cheesy one-liners," The woman raised her eyebrows, scooting under the sheets next to Tony who opened his arms wide, a smirk on his face. She didn't give him the chance to reply, slotting her lips over his instead and groaning as their heated bodies once again rested against each other.

She ran her hands over Tony's defined pecs, glossing over the arc reactor, raked nails over his tummy, eating up the sighs leaving his mouth at the gesture. He was a beautiful man, she wasn't going to lie to herself. The warmth that settled low in her belly grew, spreading throughout her limbs and temporarily overshadowing the exhaustion.

The engineer, too, was quite excited - his erection poked her hip - and content to be steered to her wishes by the hand in his hair. Groans and sighs left his moist, parted lips as his eagerness bled into his hands, grip firm and steady on the panting woman's hips.

Adrenaline did something to her body, caused it to ache sweetly, a hunger to be satisfied only by a lover's touch. And touch she did; her mouth tasted him, alternating sucking gentle marks onto his throat and nibbling on the skin stretched thinly over his collarbones. Tony's sighs grew in depth and volume with every silent action of worship.

No inch of his body was left untouched, the woman was an all-hands-on-deck kind of lover, happily making her way down until soft lips wrapped around the crown of his cock, making his hips arch into it, hands fisted in the soft white sheets. "You devil," Tony gasped out, limbs turning to jelly, watching the woman all but devour his cock.

She popped off minutely, a trail of sticky saliva running down her chin, sticking to his glistening cock. "The power of Christ compels me?" With a smirk, her tongue trailed from his balls to the very tip, paying extra attention to the frenulum, making Tony shudder and gasp out an embarrassed laugh.

"Uh-uh," Stripped of his usual snark, he was but a man at her mercy.

"It's not very compelling," The predatory stretch of her lips widened as she took mercy on him, giving his cock a few slow tugs with her hand. Her mouth, her hand and his cock were dripping. "Gonna let me do all the legwork, Mr. Stark?" She sat up straighter, inadvertently drawing his eyes to the apex of her thighs where the woman's sex glistened in the dim light, lips swollen and inviting.

It sounded like she was mocking him, teasing him, egging him into a lustful frenzy none of them had the energy for but craved anyway. Tony Stark wasn't the one to back down from a fair challenge so he relented, flipping them over with ease, landing between her spread legs, eyes drawn to the momentary bounce of her breasts. Tony wasted no time in suckling a hard nipple into his mouth, humming in response to her choked-off moan of surprise.

"Tony," Her body arched into his touch, tender skin hot under the callouses on his fingertips.

"Yes, demon, dear?" A lopsided grin and laughter in his eyes preceded the wet stripe Tony licked down to her navel. "Wasn't there something about not telling demons your name? Guess you have power over me now," He trailed off cheekily, soft breaths puffing over her mound.

The woman bit her lip, peering down to rake a hand through Tony's hair, snagging a fistful to gently steer him towards her pussy. Tony's smile was one of satisfaction as he obediently followed her silent order, nosing along the line of her cunt, dipping his tongue to run slow, sloppy lines through the soaked folds.

"Fuck," She mumbled, spreading her legs without shame. "Yeah, right there," Her fingers turned white at the agility of Tony's tongue on her clit. He was swift and relentless in pursuit of the spots that made her moan and clench around nothing. The moisture of her sex soaked his goatee but he couldn't care less.

He growled when she attempted to withdraw, wrapping his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her still for his pleasure, wringing noises that increased in volume with every stroke of his tongue on her sex.

"Tony- please, Tony, I'm gonna-" The warning was brief; her back arched as a broken moan found its way past her moist, parted lips, her pussy spasmed, dripping all over his face and the sheets.

The engineer hid his smile against her thigh, discreetly wiping the obscene amounts of moisture she produced. It wasn't very long until her hands, slightly shaky, were tugging him upwards to meet his face in a rushed, graceless kiss. There was an equal lack of finesse in the glide of his erection along her sex.

"Okay?" He mumbled into her ear, lining himself up with her fluttering cunt.

"Please," She gasped, her hands pushing his hips onto her, eagerly lifting up to accept the sweet intrusion.

There was a quiet stutter in both of their breathing, hearts thudding against their ribs as he finally bottomed out, the thickness of him nestled snugly inside the rippling muscle. The pace he started out was agonizingly slow and inexplicably sweet, neither of them wanting to end their coupling prematurely but not being able to hold back the need that consumed them both.

"Fuck, you're so good to me," Tony's mumbling was overshadowed by the slick sounds coming from the place they were joined. "Gonna fill up this pretty pussy."

The woman keened at the idea, digging her nails into his ass, pulling him further into her.

"You'd like that?" He picked up the pace, blunt tip of his cock catching up with the tail end of her previous orgasm and re-lighting the fire in her belly anew.

"Yeah, Tony, please," No trace of the previous coyness in her voice, the woman was more than ready to beg, murder and steal to feel the man come undone in her arms.

It didn't take long, not with the adrenaline making their blood sing and the chemistry they shared. The brutal pace of Tony's hips quickly grew sloppy and erratic, the tightening of her inner muscles egging him on. He chased his release with deep, powerful thrusts that had the bedsheets rustle pitifully and beads of clear swear drip down his forehead.

As soon as her body arched once more, Tony let go of his control, slotting himself deeply into her spasming heat, cock throbbing as he painted her insides white with his seed, groaning incomprehensible compliments and profanities through his teeth. Chest heaving, the engineer couldn't do much more but let himself carefully fall onto her chest, aftershocks making him twitch when the woman began running a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're doing this again," He decided, still breathless but already a step ahead. She laughed.

Tony Stark taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @downeyreads @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @slothspaghettiwrites @bluecrazedandbeautiful

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Hello doll, it's Minty! 💚 I saw your requests are open and I simply had to dance into your inbox! I would adore a Bad Batch Western AU fix with Crosshair and the sentence prompt "If that wound doesn't kill you, then I will". I love you friend! 💚💛💚💛💚

Crosshair – Dust and Blood (TBB Western AU)

Summary: Every story need a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is the beginning, and it starts with a man who calls himself Crosshair.

From the sentence prompts:

22. “If that wound doesn’t kill you, then I will.”

Word Count: ≈1535 words

CW/ TW: Angst? Idk if you could say it’s angsty - it’s not happy that’s for sure but angsty? Idk anyway; western stuff, wounds/ injuries, (death) threats, pain, scars, blood

Tags: @mintywriteswritings @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s (thank you again for the help!) @dusk-dawn-and-stars @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad @equalityforcats

@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023

Notes: This is so exciting for me you can’t even imagine; thank you Minty for the request! I’m really happy to dive a bit more into the stories of the boys, and Crosshair’s arc is one I’m really happy to explore ^^

Also feel free to check Little One – Highly Suspect (you’ll find out a lot of their songs help me dive into that AU)

Dust.

This is how everything started, and how everything would end. He knew it the moment he jumped down his horse, a grimace of pain twisting his face as the dry coat of blood on his ribs ripped open once again. He tried to take a deep breath but stopped halfway, the pumping in his head becoming too strong to focus on anything else. He almost tripped on his feet, grabbing the beige mane of his companion to keep himself up; which made the horse neigh.

“Sorry, pal.” He barely muttered, unable to do more than loosen up his grip a bit.

Above him, an old sign falling into pieces, and a barely readable inscription on it; bleached by the constant exposure to the sun and the occasional rains.

Marauder Valley.

He walked through the entrance of the abandoned village – if one could call it a village – and wandered next to his horse, looking for shelter and a new shirt. His was tainted with red; dark and dried, smelling like iron and sweat. His wound wasn't bleeding too much anymore, but he could still feel a thin dash dripping against his skin when he was turning around or raising his arm.

It took him a few minutes to find the abandoned saloon, and the sight made him hum in a mixture of disgust and relief. A thick coat of dust was laying on the floor, and most of the bottles and tables were left to be; frozen in the middle of their usual occupations. A deck of cards was spread on one of them, and he came closer to take a better look.

Poker. And it was a good hand. Whoever played it knew what they were doing.

The wooden floor was lightly creaking under his feet as he walked around; and hadn’t it be for the few footsteps he was leaving behind, no one could have guessed he came here. He took a small hallway, leading to a few unsanitary rooms – barely big enough for a bed and a chair for most of them – and looked under the beds for a medical wallet or something he could use to patch himself up. His head was spinning a bit, but the clicking of a gun’s chamber and the cold metal tickling the back of his neck felt more important in the moment.

“If that wound doesn’t kill you, then I will.”

He slowly turned around, hands barely raised to show he intended no harm, and came face to face with a lady; probably in her mid-forties, small and chubby, and visibly determined to fulfil her promise.

“I need a doctor.”

“You won’t find any ‘round here.”

“Then a drink will do.” he shrugged, unimpressed.

“We’re going out and get you a drink then.”

She moved the cannon of her gun toward the main room, letting him open the way. He went in with the hope of getting some rest and medicine, and got back outside empty-handed and under the threat of an armed lady; bathed by the burning sunrays of a hot afternoon, in the middle of nowhere.

Nothing had changed during his little visit in the saloon but his state. He tripped on his feet, unable to focus on the stairs and the figure next to him, and fell on his knees next to his horse. The pain was getting worse; stinging and burning, the sensation of warm blood dripping from his open wound and straining his shirt even more; and the headache, the heat, the shivers-

“Alright, sit down.”

He dropped his weight on his behind, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Stay here. And don’t faint!” the woman warned as she walked away from him, disappearing behind the horse. His head felt too heavy, his veins pumping too hard to let him think straight. He let himself lay back against the dusty wooden floor, closing his eyes under the bright light burning above him.

He woke up when cold water splashed his face, making him jolt and grimace in pain.

“ Told you not to faint.”

“I didn’t.” he groaned, trying to sit again, the coat of blood ripping itself a bit as he did.

“Feel like y’can walk?” she looked down at him with a sort of irritated worry. He nodded, grabbing the guardrail to get up, slowly. “Good. Follow me.”

He stumbled a bit, trying to catch up with the woman. He thought he could handle it; he had gone through a lot to get here, and it couldn’t be worse than what he had left behind.

Or maybe it could be.

The loud thud of a body falling on the ground caught the woman’s attention, and as she turned around, a sigh escaped from between her lips.

“Great… Now I have to get the big guy.”

.

Waking up was painful, sudden. His ribs were on fire, his eye stinging – though the light was filtering through old curtains – and the remaining of his headache was still blurring his vision. He didn’t noticed the comfort of the mattress right away, neither the voices filling the room he was in.

“Ha, coming back to us. Told ya ‘t would work.” A deep voice commented in a smile.

“And that?” the woman’s voice asked, and he guessed she was pointing at his wounded ribs. He brushed the tips of his fingers against his own torso, realizing he was bare skin and wrapped in a bandage.

“Can’t do miracles. ‘Have to rest for a few days, go easy with manual tasks for a while.”

He let out a groan when he heard the recommendation, and tried to move his arms to push himself up and sit in the bed.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the voice advised in a laugh, “Unless ya want to open that wound ‘gain.”

He blinked a few times, and managed to see who was talking to him; a man, tall and visibly strong, dressed with dirty clothes and a squared shirt – probably a farmer. A scar was covering the side of his bald head and reached his left eye. The man was neither scary nor impressive, and seemed friendly enough.

He abandoned the idea of sitting, letting go of the light pressure he had put on his elbows and falling down against the mattress. His head gently buried itself in the pillow, and he let out a long, tired sigh.

“Who’re you?” he muttered in his breath, turning his head their way to look at them.

“’Name’s Cid,” the woman told him, “and he’s the big guy.”

“You know that’s not my name.” the man chuckled, and his voice filled the room with warmth and amusement as he looked at Cid.

“Don’t know your name, and couldn’t care less about it.” she shrugged.

“And you are?” the big guy asked, shifting his attention back to him.

He had expected the question, and he knew the simple answer would be to give his name. But he couldn’t stand the sound of it anymore, and his spite told him to go for that one instead. After all, it was “made for him”.

“Crosshair.”

 “Well then, welcome to Marauder Valley Crosshair.” The man smiled at him.

He didn’t feel like returning the gesture, but nodded nonetheless, out of respect and gratitude for their help. He scanned the room, bringing a hand to his face; a light grimace twisting his mouth as he felt the skin stretching on the side of his body.

His fingers ran against his scar around his eye, trying to sooth the stinging pain. It was still recent, bright red, not quite blending in with his warm skintone.

“Well, ‘gotta leave now,” the big guy smiled, grabbing his hat in hand as he walked toward the door, “but if you need anything, I won’t be far.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cid pushed him out of the room, following his steps, “we know. You,” she pointed to Crosshair, “don’t play stupid, stay in bed.”

And on these words, she dragged the door behind her, slamming it before her heeled steps hit the apparent stairs outside the room. Crosshair stared at the door for a moment, contemplating once again getting up, but he was tired, and the bed was comfortable; and these people didn’t seem to want him any harm.

He didn’t seem to want any harm either, right, “Crosshair”?

He groaned faintly at the thought, and his hand dropped from his face to his chest, barely grabbing the thin blanket above him. He was far from him; from them, and now he just needed to sleep the pain away.

Sleep the pain away. Sleep.

Don’t let them get to you. Because they will get to you.

He will find you, you know he will.

They did this to you. They will do worse.

You know that, don’t you, Crosshair?

He let out a frustrated sigh at the thoughts, and slowly turned his head to look at the window. The sun was shining bright behind the curtains, and he could see the dust floating in the rays of light filtering through. It was peaceful.

For now he was safe, far away in a lost, abandoned town, in the middle of nowhere.

For now.

[albinokittens300]

Pain Of Honesty

Ship: Newtina- Heavy angst, non-happy ending. Rated K.

Summery: Newt admits his feeling to Tina before he has to leave to return to England after Jacob and Queenies wedding. Tina's has to give him the painful truth, no matter how much she knows she feels the same.

A/N: So...I thought I might as well post this as I was looking through some of my notes/unfinished fics gathering the prompts for the prompt list I promised. This was likely written right after I saw SoD, but I forget about it funnily enough. Regaurdless, it was nearly finished so decided it would be best to do that and post it. It's angsty and lacks a positive ending, so beware of that but yea. Post SoD Newtina. Hope you all enjoy it!

Her breath gets stuck in her throat when he gets the words out. Tina supposed, with as well as his visit has gone, it should have been expected. But she wasn't ready when Newt takes her hand gently as he is preparing to leave for his ship back to England to say to him was needed to be said.

It doesn't matter that she feels the same way, that his beautiful declaration made her want nothing more than to kiss him till he was silent. Tina knows she can't, and won't be able to give whatever she has with Newt the time or attention it needed. Her feelings for him were painfully clear in her heart as she struggles to open her mouth, but it doesn't change that Queenie needs her now that she was home. And probably has needed her for far longer than that.

"I'm so sorry Newt. Please believe me that I am so sorry. But…right now I need to be with Queenie. She's been through so much and is still so hurt. That's what I need to be doing." She says.

He carefully drops her hand.

Newt lets his face fall for a moment. His lips open and close in a lack of words and his shoulders slump. His eyes, which had been trained on her before now retreat to look at the ground to shadow the emotion there. To his credit though, he gathers himself quickly, after being allowed a moment. And turns back to her, looking guilty and earnest. Tina wishes she could give him something, anything to change it. Newt has never been anything but understanding, and kind- hurting him was the last thing she wanted.

It took as much will as she could to muster to remind herself this was kinder to him, that honesty would be better than causing him by dragging him along while she inevitably chooses her sister.

"No, please allow me to apologize." He starts, rushing the words out. "You are absolutely right. I truly shouldn't have said anything, Queenie needs you more than anything. I'm so sorry myself, Tina, please forgive me I-"

"There's nothing to feel sorry for." She says.

He gives her a strong nod and tries his best to flash a smile with it, even if it doesn't reach far past his lips. It wasn't fooling either of them, it seems and he picks up and seems to give the outside of his case a once over before taking his scarf and wrapping it tightly around his neck. Tina's mind tries frantically to come up with something, anything to say. Even something small to send him with to not let him leave so hurt.

"Well, it looks like I must be going. With the snow, I imagine it'll take me a bit to get down to the doc." He says.

"Oh, yes!" She replies. Still unable to say anything at all. "Hopefully the trip is comfortable."

"I hope so." He says.

Newt then arrives at the door and gives her a last look before waving and leaving. As she looks out the window at him crossing the street to go to the harbor it comes to her at last, what she would have liked to say before he left. Tina hopes that he will still send her a letter when he gets to London. By the time it comes to her, the whiteness of the snow outside has swallowed his outline down the street, and she imagines he's already halfway to boarding his ship.

Several weeks later, he does write. Detailing calm seas and days working on small things in the case during his voyage. It doesn't feel quite as good as she wanted it to without the warmth his previous letters had, even if she knows he's doing it to make her feel comfortable. Instead, it only makes her miss him more than perhaps she ever had.

Those were the moments she repeats to herself it was worth it for Queenie.

[whitestaghere]

I'm here - Edmund Pevensie x reader (Chapter 5)

Here's chapter 5 everyone! I hope you guys enjoy. Sorry I took a while with this one. Had a busy schedule. Enjoy ❤️

Edmund's Pov

I don't get it..

"Ed?"

How does she have such an effect on me?

"Ed?"

The way she blushed looking at me.

"ED??! "

Gosh relax Ed. You're loosing it.

"HELLO?! EARTH TO EDMUND?!" Peter yelled flicking me on the forehead.

I snapped out of my thoughts whincing at the pain.

"Ouch! What was that for?!

Peter squinted his eyes at me.

"Sorry. I wasn't listening.." I furrowed my eyebrows, still rubbing my forehead.

"Yeah, I noticed.." he gave me a look. "Well as I was saying, while YOU were busy daydreaming.."

I rolled my eyes at him, "yeah?"

"You know y/n's last name right?"

"Yeah, y/l/n.."

"Okay then," he stood up. "That's all we need. We could ask around if anyone is familiar with y/l/n and find her whereabouts."

I nodded my head.

It was that easy. I looked at y/n sitting in the living room laughing along with Susan and Lucy.

She'd be so happy.

Smiling to myself I spoke up, "well then.. what are we waiting for?"

With that, we got ready to leave.

Y/n's Pov

"We'll be off now.." Peter walked in along with Edmund.

Lucy shot up blocking Peter's path, "where are you both going?"

Peter ruffled her hair, "to go find y/n's home." He looked at me, "don't worry. We'll find it. It's actually easier than it seems."

I smiled nodding my head, "I'll come with you.."

Peter looked over at Edmund as if asking for permission. To which Ed replied with a slight nod.

"We'll join too, I'll go get my coat," Susan got up walking to her room.

Soon enough, we all set out.

Walking around, we would stop once in a while to ask anyone if they'd heard of me or my family before.

Eachtime.

Every response would be a no.

Shrugs, apologies, sorrowful looks.

You can imagine.. this going on for a couple of hours.

Timeskip >>>

My bad luck, was it?

We came back. With absolutely no luck.

Everyone looked so exhausted.

I couldn't help but feel bad. For taking them around, only to come back with no hopes of finding my home.

Looking down at my feet I mumbled a sorry, though loud enough for them to hear.

Susan layed a hand on my shoulder, "it's okay.. maybe today wasn't our day. But we'll find it for sure.."

Peter only smiled walking towards his room, "go wash up.. let's get dinner and take some rest."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Well.. all except for me.

I just turned around the second they made their way to their rooms. Hearing them say that it's okay, just made me feel more guilty.

Lost in thought I didn't even hear someone call my name. Feeling a light tap on my shoulder I turned around.

Edmund.

"Hey, is everything alright?"

I nodded my head slowly.

He came a bit closer.

"Doesn't seem like it is.. are you sure?"

I looked away. Feeling a slight pain at the back of my head.

He came closer observing my face.

For a second, locking eyes together I could see the concern in them. I backed away a little only to have my back hit the wall.

Edmund held my hands chuckling, "careful there love.."

Again. Oh that nickname.

Looking down at our intertwined hands he began to trace small circles with his thumb. He brought his eyes back to me and smiled.

Slowly, he leaned in.

Oh. My. God. Is. H-

My face began to heat up.

I tried turning away to hide my blush.

Suddenly the pain in the back of my head increased. I couldn't help but whince.

Holding my head in my hands I felt my vision get blurry.

Edmund backed away at once and grabbed my shoulders.

"Y/n? Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, just a h-headache.."

Looking back at him everything was in blur.

"Ed I-"

My vision turned black.

Edmund's Pov

She held her head, clearly looking in pain.

I began to panic.

"Y/n? Are you okay?

"Y-yeah, just a h-headache.."

She looked back at me, "Ed I-"

And suddenly she collapsed.

Falling straight into my arms I tried to steady her.

"Y/N?! Y/N? What's wrong?!!"

No response.

"PETER, SUSAN, LU!! HELP! FAST!!"

Lucy came in first, "what's wr-" she widened her eyes in shock, "Y/N!!!"

I lifted y/n, Lucy me helping me lay her on the couch.

"SUSAN, PETER!"

The two came in just after, "what happened??!," Susan rushed toward the couch kneeling down in front of it.

"Is she sick?" she put her hand on her forehead trying to check her temperature.

Peter went back into the kitchen coming back with a glass of water.

I gently patted her cheek, "y/n? Y/n? Please wake up... come on.. please."

Peter sprinkled some water on her face gently. Lucy held my arm, "is she going to be okay?

I couldn't form any words. All I wanted was for y/n to wake up.

"She'll be okay Lu, she's just unconscious.." Susan put a hand on my shoulder.

Looking at her she gave me a warming smile. She probably sensed the worry in me.

"What happened?" Peter looked at me.

"I don't really know Pete. One second she was fine, but then the next she collapsed. Although she did say she had a headache.."

She moved a little bit whining.

"Take her to Lucy's room.. let her get some rest."

I nodded in agreement slowly picking her up.

Timeskip >>>

Y/n's Pov

Flashback

I found myself in my room. On my bed. I was in the clothes that I had worn the day I ended up at Edmund's house.

Getting up, I observed my surroundings. Walking out of my room I called out for my mom.

"Mom... hey mom?" I saw a note on the kitchen table.

Sweetie if you're reading this, I'm off to your aunt's house. She's very ill. With uncle matt not home, she has no one to look after her. I'm sorry for leaving without telling you, but I didn't want to wake you up. I prepared you food for the week and left some money in the cookie jar. I'll be back by Tuesday morning. Lock the doors and stay safe. I love you - Mom.

I smiled.

Guess I'm alone for the weekend.

Suddenly I heard the sound of my doorbell. Walking upto it I slowly opened it. My mistake. I would never look through the window before opening the door.

My smile dropped the second I saw them.

Claire. Yep my school bully.

She had come along with two of her other friends. Before I could close the door in her face, she shoved her foot between the door.

"Oh not so fast darling.. I'm here to teach you a lesson."

Opening the door, she grabbed my hair and turned me to face her, "who do you think you are.. to talk back to me?" She tugged my hair harder this time.

I whinced in pain.

"Huh? What makes you think you can do that?" the other girls just snickered.

I felt the tears build up. But no, I wasn't going to show that side of me. No. Not today.

Clenching my fist I eyed her. And with a gush of confidence I landed a blow at her stomach.

This was my chance to escape, I made a run for it.

"LITTLE BRAT! GET HER!" I heard her scream.

They were hot at my feet. I ran as fast as possible. But however much I run I feel like their right behind me.

Suddenly one of them grabbed me by my hair again.

Pulling me back I screamed in pain.

"LET ME GO! PLEASE!" As if my day wasn't already stressful enough.

I managed to get my hair out of her grip and set a pace once again.

I ran as far as my feet could take me. Stopping halfway I looked behind me. Letting out a breathy laugh I held my knees panting.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE!"

Oh great. When will this end?

I got ready to run forward only to see one of the girls approaching from the front too.

I couldn't escape.

Looking around in panic, I finally found a way of escape.

Climbing on top of a nearby trashcan, I threw myself over a wooden fence falling into someone's backyard.

I fell knocking my head hard on the ground. I groaned in pain. I tried getting up. But unfortunately couldn't.

My entire body was aching.

Soon enough my vision turned black.

End of flashback.

With a jolt I shot up.

"Ughhh... ah my head," holding my head, I slowly opened my eyes.

"Y/N?! YOU'RE AWAKE!"

"EDMUND!"

Edmund runs upto me, hovering over me and pulling me into his arms.

I threw my arms over his shoulders giggling. He put his weight on me laughing, causing us both to fall backwards onto the bed.

Suddenly all the pain disappeared.

We both looked at eachother laughing.

"You're okay... Y/n, ah I'm so glad you're okay.. I-I-I missed you."

Okay well that was.. a cheesy ending to this chapter xd 😂 And yeah, a pretty long chapter. Well I hope you all enjoyed it <3

To be continued...

[aala-13jellychocolate]

THEY NEVER KNOW (Chapter Nineteen)

This GIF is not mine……

Author’s note: This is my first time writing, so I hope you all will forgive my mistake and grammar too. I’m hoping for comments on my writing. Thank you…    

This story has taken little inspiration from Sehun web story “ Dokgo Rewind”.

I’m sorry, yesterday tumblr was not working, hence I couldn’t update sorry.

Summary, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven(M), Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen

-Sehun pov-

Things were out of my hand. On my way to find my brother's killer, and I caught up with Choi gang. How? Jinwoo trapped by Junsu.

Jinwoo on his way back to my place after accepting Wang's leader another letter for me. Junsu somehow manages to convince Woo-Shik(Choi gang leader.) that Jinwoo has stolen their new drugs package. And asshole brings 10 of his members to hurt Jinwoo. Taeyong has reached to help Jinwoo. And Yuna informs me. It won't be a big deal, but they were actually waiting for me, why? Y/n comes up. How? Junsu knows about My/Sehyun and her relationship. And he challenges Woo-Shik to win Y/n, to be specific for one night. And I've learned, asshole doesn't play by rules. The good thing about Jaehyun, he never touches women without their full consent. He flirts, intimate but never go too further. And I think Wang leader is also the same. While Woo-Shik already has many harassment and three molestation cases too. He is an authentic evil. Y/n need to stay protected, I'll do it. If I'm not wrong, if Woo-Shik cannot get hold on Y/n, he would try to go after Yuna. I have to make sure Yuna also have someone around all the time. Or I have to convince Y/n, and Yuna stays together most of the time. It will be easy to protect also save time and energy for me, Teayong and Jinwoo.

I cannot neglect, it would be challenging when jealousy is involved. Y/n is jealous of Yuna for some unknown reason. Or maybe because I was Sehyun for her, for a while, and another girl has my attention bothered her. And sensing Yuna's current loving behavior toward me, she is also the jealousy of my attention to Y/n. Did I mention I miss my brother again because I want to run away from this situation? If not, I DO MISS HIM LIKE HELL.

Back to the point, when Yuna called me about Jinwoo, Y/n saw demon through my eyes. I ask her to come with me, know a bit whatever I and my brother associated with, where unintentionally she is also involved. I was frightened. There will be a fight for sure, bloody too. I'm sure Y/n has never seen any fight. I hope after seeing she don't be fearful of me. It is the last thing I need after her hatred.

However, I was hoping to find anything on Jaehyun. Or something related to Wang leader. I sigh and suddenly notice Y/n was staring at me. I give her 'What' look.

"You know this car is a gift from my parents. I didn't say, but I love my car." I nod.

She huff and said, "Then DIRVE SLOW. If anything happens, small or big, I'll kill you." I have to admit. I'm fearful of her. I begin to drive slow; then we stay in silence.

I park her car far away from my place. We got down of the car, start walking toward my home. Y/N stop and ask, "The guys we are meeting killed Sehyun?" I can hear angry and agony in her voice. "I don't know, nothing is clear," I answer her truthfully.

"What's up with these people?"

I sigh, "Y/n, these people are connected." I smile and continue, "This gang leader may know about Sehyun case. No guarantee. We're here because they have Jinwoo." She nod.

I reassure her, "Y/n whatever occurs trust me, you will be safe. I won't let any harm to you, ever." She gives me a sarcastic chuckle, "I know. Let's go." I wasn't able to say anything. We started walking toward the meeting point. In the halfway, I hold her hand in mine. Before she starts her protest, I said, "You are my girlfriend. Please just follow the act." She is mad, she tries squeezes my hand, tightly to hurt me. I wanted to laugh. How should I tell her, her soft hand cannot hurt me? Her every and very small act make my heartbeat fast. She continues trying to hurt me as we walk. While I hold hand with affection.

We reach the destination and my luxuriate feeling dies, seeing Jinwoo in knees, near some black car, beaten. Taeyong continues protecting Yuna with the teaser, who was trying to touch her. My blood boils, if I wasn't holding Y/n hand, I would have attacks second I saw it.

Woo-Shik sees me from inside of his car. As he comes out, everyone gets alert. Taeyong and Yuna coming rush to me. I didn't utter a word. Yuna understands my silent question and tells me she is okay. Taeyong nod. Jinwoo gets up and walks toward me. I let go Y/n hand, look at her, and smile. She looks confused. I turn toward Jinwoo, reaching to him, I exams his body a bit. Taeyong comes and takes him where Y/n and Yuna was standing. He makes Jinwoo sit on the ground. Yuna sits beside him too. Taeyong was coming to help me, I silently tell him no with eye contact. He gets it. Y/n was chaotic.

I turn back to Woo-Shik, he comes closer along with his company and smirks while saying, "Sehyun, long time." He looks toward Y/n "You have an attractive girl, I have to admit." Shamelessly staring at her, "So, here is a deal. Give me your girl for a week and I will forgive you and your friends for my drugs." I keep calm with a blank face. I was aching to rip off his tongue for asking Y/n like property, however, my angry won't do any good. He looks here and there, and snickers, "I know, I said one night, but look at her. I need at least a week to completely know her." People behind him were silently smirking. Like dog waits for his owner to complete meat and pass reaming born of it.

I took a deep breath, firm and gentle voice I said, "If I say no?" Woo-Shik smirk, go to his car, sit on the car hood, and orders to fight. Now I smirk, they don't know what is going to happen once the fight starts.

-Y/N P.O.V-

You don't know why, but your heart was beating fast as something unpleasant will happen. And way the Sehun was driving, your fear was increasing. You don't have any will to die with a car accident, it made you scold Sehun a little.

When Sehun holds your hands, you feel annoyance. His hand hold was like Sehyun, only Sehun's hand skin was rough. Not wanting to go back again, there. You clutch his hand tightly, to show your irritation with his touch. He didn't even flinch. It didn't pester, it was playful maybe. You keep trying hard to hurt him while walking, like a child trying to build a card house when wind continuously blows.  

You feel the change in Sehun's hold. It was gentle but reserved. You look up and see where you are. Yuna comes stands next to you. She gives you one, unsmiling look. Sehun let go of your hand. Surprisingly, you feel the loss of warmth, you were enjoying it.

Everything was confusing for you, and when the guy in brown start talking, you felt nausea. You didn't know if he was talking about you or Yuna. You know the fight will start, you have heard about it a lot Sehun's fighting skill too. But you never thought it would be like this.

It was hard for you to keep track, whose hand was moving, whose leg was. But Sehun was able to. You were okay until you saw a baseball bat, chains, and things you cannot name. Soon you saw blood. Sehun takes something metal thing from someone's hand and punches on his chest, maybe near to his chest, you don't know, but he fell on the ground in the worst pain and scream. Then a guy with the twisted wrist falls near your leg. You couldn't move, he was crying in extreme pain. Taeyong, push him away from you, harshly.  Your eye widened, fear, hard to breathe, heartbeats faster, and numb. You can only see blood and scream and hitting noise. Everything makes you remember Sehyun, you image his scream while getting beaten. You can imagine his pain, screams, blood. He was killed mercilessly. You couldn't see anymore, your eye was blurred with tears. Before you can forget the real world and see more pain, Taeyoung stands in front of you, blocking sight. "Hey, look at me. It is okay." He keeps calling you. You may not able to see but you can hear everything, clearly. Your mind was imagining Sehyun, while it makes you remember Sehun. You try to ask Taeyoung to go and help  Sehun, he is outnumbered, but words didn't come out of your numb frame. Your heart breaks thinking something will happen to Sehun too. You will lose him too. You wanted to know why, what, and how are things happen, you were losing your small world.

You want to deny your feeling. You want to lose your memory and have a new start. A new world, where there is no pain of losing people you love. Your phone was vibrating in your jeans pocket. With your numb hand, you take it out. Myung was calling, you couldn't pick up knowing your surrounding and your lost voice. You got a few notification asking, 'where are you?' and 'call back.' You have no idea how long you been staring at your phone. You look up when Yuna call Sehun loudly. And he was coming toward you.

-Sehun pov-

It got over sooner then I thought. Woo-Shik sneaks out while I was busy with others. I want him that most, he was my answer key but next time. I had a small cut near my stomach and arm due to shape knuckles besides that I prefect. I called Taeyoung to drop them in the hospital. I'm not a killer however I can kill if I want. I kept two of them in condition to drive. After helping Taeyoung put people in the car carefully; finally, I turn toward Y/n. I didn't look at her during the whole fight, not wanting the distraction. She was standing still with tears. While Yuna helps Jinwoo to get up from the ground. Me and Taeyoung go to them, I asked, if they are okay or not. I order them to go to my place and do necessity, I will be there in a while.

Y/n was looking at me whole while with widen eyes. I stand in front of her, two-steps away. I didn't speak to her, keep looking at my friends walking away. When I ensure they are okay and no one else is there seeking at us. I called Y/n. She didn't utter a word, keep looking at me from up to down. "I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be scared of me. Please." She was still. With all my courage inside me, I hug her. I know, she doesn't like me touching her. But she was shocked. To my surprise, she hugs me back after a few seconds. I can feel her getting better in my arms, warm feeling pass to my blood. She is not afraid of me. I pull her closer, she didn't protest. After a while, she utter, "Are you okay?" I assure her, I'm fine. She goes out of the hug. I thought maybe we will be friendly for now, but no, "Don't think too much out of my concern. I was worried for Sehyun's brother, not you." My heartbreak with her words, but I smile with a nod. We stand silently, for a while until we both got control. She starts walking toward, my place. I look at her in confusion. Before I could ask, she speaks, "I don't want to stay alone. I will sleep in the Sehyun bed."  We silently reach to my place. She didn't utter a word went to my and Sehyun's room without looking at my friends, like she owns this place. Taeyoung and Yuna's face turns sour while Jinwoo was lying on my sofa. I clean up his treated his wounds properly. I took a detail of Woo-Shik, what he said when he cames and stuff. Ask Jinwoo to rest properly and avoiding to talk about Y/n which my other two friends wanted. I clean up my wound while Taeyoung sets up a bed for everyone.

I went to my room, to change my clothes. Y/n seems to use my bathroom without asking. She was wearing my brother's hoodies and my sweatpants without asking. Eating my pack of chips, on my bed without asking. She sees me and casually says, "You sleep upper bed, I will sleep in down one." She keeps her half-eaten snacks on the table, drinks water, goes to bed, and orders, "Off the light." I was at the door speechless. I don't remember allowing her to use my house and things like hers. If Yuna has behaved like this I had scolded her but I didn't know what should say to Y/n. The person I love plus my brother's girlfriend.  I was busy in my thoughts, she called me again, "Sehun change, turn off the light and sleep. Aren't you tired?" I nod. After taking a shower, gone to bed, and slept.

Next morning, I feel good after a healthy and peaceful sleep. It was 9 am, I get down from the upper bed and see Y/n was still sleeping. I thought of waking her up, however, hearing her soft snore, I let her sleep.

When I go down, my friends were up and breakfast was also there. After breakfast, we start our discussion. Jiwoo was good, he didn't have anything major. I warn them for not starting the topic of Y/n's behavior. As per the condition, it was right to stay together. If Woo-Shik wouldn't have run away, we could have avoided it. Yuna was ready but seeing Y/n's unpredictable behavior, I don't know how to tell her; from today onward, me and my friends will be with her 24/7 when she couldn't bear me even for 24 seconds.

[gascon-en-exil]

To be fair, I've always seen CF as a pretty obvious villain route. Its not as extreme as say, the Demon Path in Soul Nomad, but you are joining the one person thats an antagonist in all other routes and you are helping her accomplish her goals of reconquering the continent. But CF stands out because its the only route who changes the entire progression of the story, and it does it in a way that makes Edelgard look better. Rhea gets away, Edelgard doesn't get a foothold in the kingdom by [1/4]

assasinating the regent, and Dimitri wasn't set up for execution. A majority of her more extreme and unarguably darker actions are simply not present in CF. But that's not because Edelgard seen in CF is a 'changed' Edelgard or a 'good' Edelgard. The circumstances and change in story in CF simply hasn't allowed her to go to the same extremes she does in all the other routes. That is what is making her look 'better'. The change in CF is in the story itself, not in Edelgard as a character. [2/4]

Imagine instead a CF where you end up joining her through the actions she does in the other routes. You wake up after the timeskip with Rhea already been captured and hidden away in Enbarr like on all other routes. You're now supporting an Edelgard that is halfway through conquering the Kingdom after assassinating their Regent and framing Dimitri for it, while pushing hard at a neutral alliance while a desperate Claude tries to hold his country together. [3/4]

Despite getting what she wanted in the first half, she's now hellbent on 'unifying' the continent, even against the will of the people in it. This would be a pretty obvious villain route, wouldn't it? Theres nothing wrong with enjoying antagnonists or playing as a villain. I've just seen so many people that seem so desperately to want Edelgard to be 'good', even though a lot of the evidence in game just says otherwise. [4/4]

Yeah, the problem with the story differences between CF and the other routes is that they have nothing to do with Edelgard or with Byleth’s decision to side with her. I saw some people a few months ago trying to rationalize Cornelia not enacting her coup in CF as a sign that Arundel had less influence on Edelgard because of Byleth’s presence, but I don’t really buy that because it occurs during the timeskip on the other routes...you know, when Byleth’s not with Edelgard in CF either. My headcanon for that is that either Arundel or Cornelia felt that, with the church relocated to Faerghus, the chance of the coup succeeding had dropped significantly. That however falls back on another arbitrary change, with Rhea not captured at the Battle of Garreg Mach. That’s not because the Imperial army doesn’t use Demonic Beasts in CF as I’ve seen a number of Edelgard’s fans claim; they’re still carrying out their blood experiments on villagers in Part 1, the army has Beasts in their ranks in Chapter 11, and the playable army in CF is explicitly a small special ops force separate from the main Imperial army that would logically not make use of such large and cumbersome beings. 

There’s no Watsonian (in-universe) reason why Rhea isn’t captured in CF; it’s a change solely to allow the player to still feel like an underdog even when they’re on the side that instigated the war and is invading the rest of the continent. That is however why I say Edelgard has no character arc in CF. She opens up to Byleth, is surprised when they side with her, mopes around Garreg Mach for half a decade doing nothing because of a plot contrivance, and then once Byleth comes back she just wins and wins and wins some more and the one time she appears to lose something - when the Agarthans nuke Arianrhod - she lies about it to everyone and just handwaves it as something Hubert can deal with in the postgame. All of her personal development come Part 2 pertains to her romantic feelings for Byleth, and as is the case for all of this game’s self-insert romances it has no bearing on the plot and no proper resolution unless you pick her as your S rank.

While I think the idea of a CF with the same story structure as the other routes is intriguing, I’m not sure if it would feel like it would have very strong stakes provided we’re still including a Byleth with no personality who never questions what Edelgard is doing and certainly wouldn’t turn against her at any point. Who would even be the final boss? It couldn’t be Edelgard, I wouldn’t buy Rhea breaking out of her imprisonment for no apparent reason, and neither Dimitri nor Claude has the buildup to function as such if they’re mostly following their roles in the other routes. Thales in an evil vs. evil final clash, maybe?

[lowkeyhockey]

your name on my lips (tongue-tied) - freddie andersen

Summary: You’ve had childhood fantasies about this exact moment: Freddie’s hands on your waist, his lips pressed against the side of your head, a sea of white fabric spilling between the two of you. But the ring on your finger has nothing to do with him, and his own happily-ever-after had crashed and burned over a year ago, and you’re just - sorely in need of a stiff drink.

Author’s Note: I’m still debating whether to leave this short story as is or to expand it into a full verse, so hit me up if you’d like to see more of heartbroken!Freddie and confused!bride-to-be <3

Requested: Kinda. A lovely anon asked for an angst with happy ending fic, but because the planning for that’s taking me a bit I’m holding up this slightly-angsty with slightly-hopeful-ending short story as a humble offering :D 

"How did it feel?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper, voice halfway to not-existing. You could have said nothing at all, should have said nothing at all, because now he's looking at you in the mirror and you've never quite learned how to avoid his gaze. 

 His eyes, that deep brown, are the steadiest things you've ever known. Come flood or fire, heartbreak or fear of mortal peril ⁠— you know you can't look away. You've never managed it, so why start now? 

 Now, when everything's about ready to change, when his deft fingers are pulling back your hair in a gentle braid he'd learned when you were maybe five, and he just a few years older. He'd always been your go-to, for braids, and even for your bridal look you can't imagine tapping someone else in. 

 He's your go-to for most other things, too. Just not romance. Just not happily ever afters. Just not finding yourself under an arch, ready to exchange rings and vows and claim yourself as one another's. So why are you asking him this now? 

He's asking you the same thing with his eyes alone, and you manage a smile, or a weak apology of one. It's a topic he's never allowed you to cross into, or even pass by; some days you think he'd be happy if both you and The Topic stopped existing, so he could lock the memory of the pair of you in a box and keep you tucked away. 

 That's what Freddie does, with an ease that has always driven you mad with both annoyance and envy. He compartmentalizes, and what he doesn't want to think about he simply - doesn't. 

Like you. Like The Topic. Like his ex-fiance. 

 "Come on, Freddie," you say, and you should probably be thankful that you're only looking at him through the mirror. His hands have dropped from your hair to your hips, framing you like he's not yet ready to pull away, never mind what terrible questions you want - no, have - to ask him. 

"You've done all this already," you say, and you have to wet your lips before you can continue, an unconscious darting of your tongue that you see his gaze dropping to follow. "Or - not this exactly, I don't think even this place has a dress that can fit you." 

 It's a joke, but a weak one, and he doesn't even try to smile for you. The bridal shop's not one for waifish instagram models, but you think even the overly-excitable shopkeepers here would have a hard time finding something to fit - much less show off - Freddie's broad shoulders and large, muscled thighs. He's so strong — it's too easy to picture him in your mind's eye, to want to lean back against him and feel that strength against you.

So stupid. You close your eyes anyway. You let the picture of him fuel you; it always helps, knowing that he's right there should you fall. You can hear the shopgirls chattering, but from a distance - the dress viewing room, with its small, circular stage half-surrounded by mirrors, is all yours for the evening, and Freddie had told them that you'd call for their help when you need them again. 

 He'd sounded so casual about it, so sure. But then, he's done all this already. 

 You take care to pitch your voice even lower than the girls', to make your words a  secret for just you two to hear. 

"You got the girl, the ring. The location, the catering, your parents were here."  You remember his mor's excited fluttering, how she'd danced around The Topic and tried to pretend she couldn't see how you'd been heartbroken at best, how she'd tried to include you in the planning anyway, like you were another of her daughters - like you were Freddie's sister - and not a girl who'd been half in love with her son for more than half your life. 

Had been. Past tense. The burn of his hands on your hips couldn't - shouldn't - compare to the weight of the ring on your finger. 

Jesus, the boys had joked - when you first came to them with the news - that Michael was trying to buy you with the diamond he'd chosen and privately you had - almost? - agreed. It's not your style at all, too large, and you've cut your face more than once just from forgetting that you had it on. 

 But then, you have the rest of your life to get used to it. 

"Drop it," he says, his voice sounding like it's coming from right beside your right ear, but it came after a few moments of silence and it's almost as though he's giving you an out. He doesn't sound stern, or firm, or anything but tired - nothing of his casual confidence now, and hearing Freddie with his defenses down always manages to get your hackles up - like you now have to work twice as hard to protect the both of you. 

 "I won't, asshole. You know how long it took me to get here?" you ask, and you feel his lips against your hair - you have to bite back a smile, and this time, you'd bet anything on him doing the same. It's been a while since you'd snapped at him, and you - you think you both - have missed it. 

 And that - more than anything else - maybe meant that you were ready to ask. 

 "You were so ready to get married, Freddie. And then I woke up, and there was that text message from you saying that you'd changed your mind, that the wedding's off." 

 You open your eyes, then, aren't surprised to realise that there's a tear falling down your cheek when you do, aren't surprised when he takes one hand off your hip to wipe at it for you.

 Brides can get a little emotional, your mama had warned him, and he'd slipped a handkerchief into his pocket and winked at her, promising he'd put Facetime on again when you've narrowed your dress selection options down a little. He uses it to wipe your tear away, and you yearn for the brush of his calloused fingers instead. 

 "She was wrong for me, and we both knew it," he says, each word slow and measured, each word calm and steady - like he's been ready to tell you this all along, and you just hadn't been ready to hear it. "It just took some time for us to come to terms with it, to make it all stop. It's hard, when things are going 500 miles an hour." 

 Like this — you can relate, so maybe it's good that Freddie's kept the story secret for so long. You wouldn't have been able to before, wouldn't have understood how planning for the best day of your life could feel a little like drowning. 

 You lean back against him, and the hand holding the handkerchief drops from your face, wraps around your midriff instead. Holds you close. 

"Does it feel like that for you? 500 miles an hour?" he asks, voice soft, and you nod your head. 

And then: "Should it be?" 

You don't know if you'd thought the words or he'd actually said it, but your eyes are meeting his in the mirror once again and you know he's thinking it either way. 

 "I don't know," you admit, and even to your ears, you sound unhappy. Not flustered, not embarrassed, just - not happy. Not at all how a girl picking out her wedding dress should be. Maybe it had been a bad idea, you doing this with just Freddie, but with his crazy schedule you could either have all your girls with you or just him — and that hadn't actually felt like much of a choice at all. 

 You were always going to choose him. 

 You smile a little at him in the mirror - a little apologetic, a little sheepish about your dramatics, and he kisses the side of your head again before stepping back off the stage. The lack of him - the deliberate taking-away of the warmth of his chest against your back - makes you startle a little, but when you turn your head to meet his gaze directly this time, ready to ask him what gives?  he's giving you a sheepish little smile right back. 

 "Go and change back into your clothes, we can come again some other time if you want to. First, ice cream, and then vodka if you still need help figuring things out." 

You're breathing out a sigh of relief that you didn't know you'd been holding in you, feel your shoulders untensing as you take his hand and let him help you off the stage. His hand - calloused, warm - around yours feels more real than anything else of the last few months, and you know that whatever you decide, he'll be right there with and for you. 

[anodyne-sunflower]

Can I resend my graves request about him falling for somebody he was initially irritated by? If this doesn't inspire you though then just ignore it lol 🙂🙂

Here you go! There will be time lapses! This turned out way longer than I expected lol

Master list

Imagine: Graves falling for you despite his original annoyance with you.

“Another screw up?” He asked, irritation clear in his tone. He didn’t understand what you were doing even working at MACUSA, week by week it was just another mistake of yours that slowed his work process down.

“Yes sir…” You dropped your head down, not wanting to meet his disappointed gaze. You admired Mr. Graves so much, he was the best of the best, and yet no matter how hard you tried nothing ever seemed to go your way.

The director tossed the folder of paperwork onto his desk, rubbing at his temples as he tried to figure out a way to correct the mistakes. The paperwork would take forever to go through now.

“Do you like your job, Ms, Y/N?”

You glanced up, eyes a bit wide at his sudden question. But, the beat of your picked up its pace and you worried so for your future here.

“I-I do, sir. Very much.”

He leaned back in his chair, kicking his boots up on the desk as he stared you down. “Then I suggest you start lessening your incessant need to make mistakes.”

The threat was evident on his voice, and you felt much like a child being scolded by a parent. This was torture, and you felt the beginnings of tears in your eyes.

“I promise to try harder, sir. I’m so sorry.” You bowed a bit, trying to show some respect before you moved to leave his office.

He watched you go, dark eyes following every movement as he thought deeply to himself. You were a constant headache for him, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty over the dejected state you were in.

****

You rushed down the halls of the large building, apologizing to the other aurors as you bumped into them. You had just finished up all your reports and you were eager to hand them to Mr. Graves yourself. You had looked over every little detail, and even asked your friend for help to make sure nothing was missing. Hopefully, he’d be congratulating you this time…

“Mr. Graves!”

You opened the door to his office, smiling widely until you saw Madame Picquery standing there, stern look on her face. Just your luck that he would be having a meeting with the president.

“I-….” You blushed deeply in embarrassment, suddenly feeling very small.

Graves raised his eyebrow at you, letting out a sigh as he apologized to the president. She just waved him off, giving you a small smile before excusing herself. You watched her go, swallowing the nervous lump that had developed in your throat.

“I sincerely hope you have a good reason to be barging into my office without a knock.” He warned, taking a seat as he picked up his pen and began writing down some information.

“Well I…um…”

“Out with it…” He grew annoyed, tilting his head towards you in frustration.

“I finished my reports, sir. I just wanted to deliver them to you…”

He seemed slightly impressed by that, and he held his hand out for you to hand him the folders. He opened them up, clasping his hands together and resting his chin atop them as he read over your work. He had to admit, these were far more detailed than your last ones, and as far as any errors went he could find none. He closed the folder, not even glancing up at you as he continued his own work.

“Good job.”

As far as compliments from the director went, this was probably as good as it got, and you would take that. You smiled brightly, clapping your hands cheerfully as you thanked him for his time.

“Thank you, sir! I promise not to let you down again!”

You turned on your heel, and as you moved to open his office door you tripped over the trash can, barely catching yourself on the doorframe. The bang of the metal drum rang loudly through the halls and his office, making him look up at you.

You stood silently against the door, eyes screwed shut in disbelief of your clumsiness. You finally got a moment to shine, and then this. How perfect, you thought. With a sigh, you mumbled an apology and slowly walked out of the room after putting his trash can back.

Unbeknownst to you though, Graves had watched the whole thing with a small grin on his face that he hid behind his hands.

*****

Percival strode down the hallway, briefcase in hand as he headed towards his office, he was beyond exhausted. The last few nights trying to deal with an investigation had finally taken a toll on him, and all he wanted was to finish up his reports and head home. He turned the corner, stopping when he saw you walking into his office with a pile of papers. They were no doubt more paperwork on the case from the other aurors. With a heavy sigh he continued on, stopping in his tracks when he found you halfway under his desk. You were scrambling around, cursing to yourself about something he couldn’t quite hear.

“What are you doing?”

You squeaked in surprise, instinctively jumping back only to hit your head hard against his wooden desk.

“Ow!”

You held your sore head in your hands, trying hard not to cry at the pain.

“I was just…”

Truth is, you managed to drop all his folders when you came in. And your luck would have it that he showed up just now.

Graves looked down at the floor, gritting his teeth when he saw all the papers scattered about. He would’ve yelled just then, completely done with all the issues of this week, but when you looked up at him, cheeks stained red, and eyes looking as innocent as ever…he didn’t have it in him anymore.

He placed his briefcase on the desk, kneeling down next to you as he started to reach for the papers. You quickly started doing the same, trying to stop him from helping.

“Oh no, Sir! Please let me, it was my fault after all!”

As you went to retrieve one, your hands brushed, and you both froze. His fingers hovered just above your hand, yet the heat of his palm was still felt. Just then your heart skipped a beat, blood rushing to your face even more now and all you could do was stare down at your hands in wonder.

Graves looked up at you, his expressive eyes staring straight into your soul and making you fidget nervously. You should’ve moved, but his gaze held you in place.

He let his fingers trial softly over the back of your hand, sending a shock of electricity throughout both your bodies that even caught him by surprise. He held his breath for only a second, before he let his fingers slide off your hand and he grabbed the paper.

“Go get us some coffee. I’ll pick this up.”

You were somewhat at a loss for words, your heart was still beating madly in your chest and you stared up at him with a shocked look.

“Sir?”

“Coffee. Black.”

You nodded quickly and ran out of his office.

****

Graves chuckled softly at your words, taking a sip from his mug as he spoke.

“What kind of American doesn’t like coffee?”

You smiled sheepishly, organizing the papers in his filing cabinet. The past few weeks had been spent like this, and your boss slowly began to warm up to your presence. Ever since that brush of skin things had been different. Though he still made you nervous.

“I suppose that is un-American of me.”

“Hm.”

Graves watched you closely, eyeing you over the rim of his coffee mug as you leaned forward to put a paper away. He wasn’t sure how this happened, or even where it began. Somehow you worked your way into his very heart and it drove him endlessly mad. He was always far too busy in his career to even pursue romantic relationships. The furthest he’d go is taking a woman home and that’d be the end of that. Yet, you made him stop that all together. Perhaps it was the one night he shared with another coworker, only to look down and see your face moaning in pleasure beneath him. Whatever the case, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go. That’s why he invited you here so often, of course he never stated that though. He wasn’t sure how to further this…whatever it was.

Perhaps it was your clumsy nature that made him like you, it was rather endearing at times. You always got this embarrassed wide eyed look that made it hard not to smile at. Or maybe it was your eagerness to please him. You were simply cute, a breath of fresh air amongst the stern women he worked around.

He looked you over, running a hand through his slicked back hair as he took in every detail. From the way you hummed peacefully to yourself, to the way you bit your lip in thought. It was all so tempting a sight, and he’d be damned if any other man took that from him.

****

“Mr. Abernathy, that’s very kind of you but I’m not-”

“Oh come on, just one date?”

Your supervisor smiled at you, leaning over the front desk as he tried his hardest to convince you. But, you weren’t interested in him one bit, you knew his reputation around here after all.

“I really-”

“Abernathy, shouldn’t you be off supervising the wand permits?”

Graves leaned against the counter, glaring at the shorter man. Abernathy, ever fearful of the director, nodded quickly and rushed off down the hall, nervously looking back at you both.

You sighed in relief, giving Percival a grateful smile. “Thank you. He’s a very persistent man.”

“He’s a rat.”

You giggled at that, getting up from your chair as Graves motioned for you to follow him. The wall to his office was rather silent, and you kept stealing glances his way in wonder. You hoped you hadn’t done something wrong.

“Mr. Graves-”

“Percival is fine.”

A smile made its way onto your face, and you nodded happily at that. “Percival…is everything okay?”

He ignored that, and as soon as he stepped into the office with you he shut his door, grabbing your arm and pushing you against the wall. The papers you held flew everywhere, and you gasped as his lips descended onto yours.

“Mm!”

Your hands flailed around for a second, trying to comprehend what was happening. But, the warmth of his mouth on yours made you melt into the kiss, and you slowly let your eyes flutter closed.

Graves held you firmly against him and the wall, his hands trailing down your sides and resting on your waist. He had waited far too long to do this, and as your superior he should’ve thought it through a little more but right now he didn’t care. He pulled away, his warm breath brushing across your cheek as he spoke.

“What have you done to me…?”

*****

Hope you liked!

[rachello344]

kaishin soulmate au where sonoko is the first person who finds out that they're soulmates and flips a lid bc kid is supposed to be her soulmate. kaito and shinichi are mildly terrified bc lbr sonoko is kinda scary and doesn't know when to quit. ran is laughing her ass off. (so is aoko if she knows???)

hm, I’m gonna have to make a feeeeew changes to this for Plot Reasons, but I like it.  Very good.  XD  I hope you enjoy where I take it.  ;D

Shinichi fidgeted with his watch in an effort not to touch his tattoo.  The tattoo–the four suits from a deck of playing cards, clover and heart atop diamond and spade–had appeared on his wrist shortly after he was born.  He’d never seen their match before.

“I’m telling you,” Sonoko said, leaning into his space, “I saw the same tattoo on Kaitou Kid.”

“And I’m telling you,” Shinichi snapped, “I think I would notice if my soulmate was Kaitou Kid.”

“Would you?”  Sonoko raised an eyebrow, looking every inch a princess, her hip cocked and her head tilted.  Royal pain, more like.  “Would you check a criminal for your matching tattoo?  One of us wanted him to be their soulmate, and that person wasn’t you.”

“She has a point, Shinichi,” Ran said reasonably.  “What if she’s right?”

Shinichi scoffed.  “What does it matter?  It’s not like I can just waltz up to his house and let him know.  Besides, what kind of thief would want anything to do with a detective?”

Kaito sneezed, rubbing his nose with his sleeve.

“Someone must be talking about you,” Akako said.  “Nothing good, I’m sure.”

“Ha ha.”  Kaito rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.  The heist last night had been close.  That Suzuki girl had been hot on his heels, and Kudou had almost gotten him with that nasty watch of his.

He knew he should lay low for a while, but there was something about being chased by Kudou that was just thrilling.  His heart kicked up a notch just remembering how in sync they’d been.  Kudou was always just a step behind him, occasionally throwing him for a loop long enough to overtake him before Kaito could get his bearings back and return to the lead.

He sighed.  Hakuba had found him so quickly, so why didn’t Kudou?  He wanted to see if they got along as well as he hoped they would, damn it.  And, well, Kudou was gorgeous, all long legs and confident superiority.  Kaito wanted to ruffle his feathers like nothing else.

Kaito was halfway to his favorite coffee shop when he realized that he’d left the bracelet he usually wore on his desk.  He glanced down at his tattoo, plainly visible in black and red.  Well, nothing for it.  It was a little unusual to see people with their tattoos showing, but not unheard of.  He was a well known eccentric anyway.

No one paid it any mind until he was pouring creamer into his coffee.

“Kaitou–” a girl gasped.

Kaito raised his eyes with a frown, schooling his expression quickly when he put a name to the face.  What the hell is Suzuki Sonoko doing here?

“Sonoko, who’s this?” Mouri Ran asked, smiling politely.

“This is him,” Suzuki hissed.  “See?  His tattoo is the same, just like I said.”

“My…?”  Kaito froze.  He’d forgotten his bracelet at the heist, too.  He hadn’t even thought about it, but he’d run out of concealer the night before.  How had Suzuki managed to get a long enough look to recognize it days later?

“Wait, you mean he’s–?”  Mouri covered her mouth, eyes wide.  Did they both know?  How did they make the connection?

“Come sit with us,” Suzuki said.  It wasn’t a request.

Kaito frowned, but allowed her to lead him to their table.  “Look, miss, I think you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Don’t play coy,” Suzuki said, sitting and taking a sip of her tea.  “You’re cute, but that’s not going to work on me, even if I am a fan.”

“A fan?  Look, I really think–”

“I know who your soulmate is,” Suzuki interrupted.

Kaito opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say.  He touched his wrist, unthinking.  If Suzuki Sonoko knew who his soulmate was, it had to be someone she was close to.  Her two best friends were Mouri Ran and…

His face felt hot all of a sudden.

“Figured it out, have you?” Suzuki looked smug.  “Then you should realize that I don’t want to turn you in.  Quite the contrary.  This isn’t a ‘quit your night job’ talk, it’s a shovel talk.”

Kaito’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “Shovel talk?  So what, you’ll hurt me if I hurt my soulmate?”

“Oh no,” Suzuki said, shaking her head.  “I supply the comfort food.  Ran will hurt you.”

Mouri smiled politely.  “I’m a black belt and my school’s captain of the karate team.”  Her voice was sweet, but it promised nothing but malice.  Kaito shivered.

“You haven’t even told me who you think my soulmate is.”

Suzuki huffed.  “I know for a fact that Kudou Shinichi’s soulmate is Kaitou Kid,” she said.  Her voice was low, but confident.

“Well, my name is Kuroba Kaito, not Kaitou Kid.”  He took a drink of his coffee, cheeks still warm.  “I’ve never met this Kudou Shinichi, but…  I’d like to.”

“Then you’re in luck,” Mouri replied cheerfully.  “He’s meeting us here.”  She looked over Kaito’s shoulder and waved.  “Speak of the devil!”

Kaito couldn’t bring himself to look, concentrating on drinking his coffee.  He’d taken two long drinks when he heard Kudou walking toward them.

“Who’s this?  You didn’t tell me we were meeting anyone else here.”  Kudou’s voice was smooth and cool.  Kaito turned to meet his eyes.  He’d never seen him without something between them–a disguise, a monocle.  Kaito was hyper-conscious of how small the distance between them was.

Kudou’s gaze dropped to the inside of his wrist, exposed through Kaito’s grip on his mug.  His eyes went wide, and his face went red.

“Good,” Suzuki said, “now that you’ve figured it out, Ran and I can leave you lovebirds to get to know each other.  Kuroba Kaito, meet Kudou Shinichi.”  Suzuki stood.  “Shall we, Ran?  I want to go shopping.”

“Celebrating?”

“Of course.  It’s not every day I get to tell the detective otaku I told you so.”  Suzuki paused in collecting her things.  “That reminds me, Shinichi:  I told you so.”

Without further ado, she and Mouri strolled out the door, pastries in hand.  Kudou seemed to fall into the chair across from him.  He covered his face with his hands, muffling a groan.

“What the hell,” he mumbled into his hands.

Somehow, seeing Kudou so off-balance made him feel more stable.  Whatever happened, he wasn’t alone.  If everything went well–no, best not to get his hopes up.

“Imagine how I felt.  I was just minding my own business, getting coffee, when your blonde friend blindsided me and accused me of being Kaitou Kid.”

Kudou snorted.  “I’m surprised she left so easily.  I expected her to give one or both of us a hard time.  I mean, she was really hoping you’d be her soulmate.  She has a soulmate, but she’s always been interested in you.”

Kaito bit his lip, dropping his eyes shyly.  “And… what about you?  Are you… interested in me?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Kudou said.  “I don’t make a habit of chasing thieves.  Just you.”

“You never tried to find me.”  Kaito hesitated.  “I mean–”

“It didn’t seem fair.  I know Hakuba found you outside of the heists, but it doesn’t really count, does it?  He doesn’t have proof or anything.  It’s only a win if it’s during the game.”  Kudou looked out the window, playing with the band of his watch.  He was blushing again.  “And anyway, I think the rules have changed for us.”

Kaito reached forward, touching his wrist just below the watch.  “Can I see?”

Kudou jolted, but nodded quickly, undoing the strap and setting it aside.  Kaito turned his hand over, comparing the tattoo to his own.  A perfect match.

“Does it bother you?” Kudou asked.

Kaito looked up to meet his eyes.  “Does what bother me?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between them.  “My being a detective.”

Kaito rubbed his thumb over Kudou’s wrist.  “Does it bother you?”  Kudou shook his head.  Kaito smiled, letting go of the last of his tension.  “Good.  And no, it doesn’t bother me.  Even though we’ve never really had time to talk, I feel like you understand me.  Your being a detective doesn’t negate that.”  He laughed a little.  “Besides, soulmates can’t be forced to testify against each other in court.”

Kudou snorted, taking Kaito’s hand and rubbing his thumb over the matching mark.  Kaito shivered.

“Go out with me?” Kudou asked.

Kaito grinned.  “Of course.”

[onceuponamirror]

the winged beast [6/12]

Fandom: Riverdale

Ships: Betty x Jughead, Archie x Veronica (background)

Chapters: 6/12

Summary:

This is how the world ends, she thinks. Not with a bang but with a motorcycle.

[serpent!au] [read on Ao3 from the beginning] [2] [3] [4] [5] [character design]

Betty, at least, was able to rule out Jason on Saturday morning, when she, without much delicacy, had asked Polly if she’d heard from Jason. Polly said she had; apparently he’d been drunk texting her all night and by breakfast, he’d sent an equal amount of flustered apologies. Her sister had said this all with pursed lips, and Betty filed away the reaction for later.

It’d been a huge relief; if it wasn’t Jason, it wasn’t her fault. Still, it was a reassurance she felt at odds with, given that just because Jason was okay, didn’t mean someone else was.

But she doesn’t have to wait long to find out; the news breaks on Saturday night.

When no one had heard from Moose Mason for 24 hours, Reggie Mantle had apparently confirmed it with the football team; he himself had tried resuscitating Moose until the paramedics arrived. Betty found out through Kevin, who already knew, but waited until it was publicly on twitter that Moose had been hurt before passing the news.

“I mean, I saw him like half an hour before,” Kevin says on the phone that night, his voice shaky. “I think he might’ve been trying to get me to have a threesome? Like? He was being so weird and out of it. I should’ve known something was up. I was so shocked that I just walked away but what if that was the last…” Kevin sucks in a gulp of air and trails off.

“It’s definitely not your fault, Kev,” Betty says softly, though she thinks about how stressed she’d been about Jason a few hours before and knows words probably mean nothing to Kevin right now. “There was no way you could’ve known.”

“Speaking of…none of us are supposed to know about this, by the way,” he adds, after a minute. His voice is stiff, and Betty can tell he’s probably still beating himself up. “My dad wants to wait for an official press conference. But he told me this morning. It’s…really bad, Betty.”

“Bad how?” Betty rolls over on her bed to grab her diary. She feels a sting of guilt with herself for jumping into journalist mode, but decides the truth is more important than tact. She raises her pencil to the paper.

Kevin pauses, choosing his words. When he speaks, his voice is very small. “He died, Betty. On the way to the hospital.”

She feels all the air leave her lungs and drops her pencil. “He…what? Died? I thought he was just…sick, or something. What happened? How?”

“My dad wouldn’t tell me, but I don’t think it was…uh, natural causes,” Kevin says. “Crap, I hear him coming. I gotta go, Betty. I’ll see you Monday. And don’t tell anyone,” he adds, and then the line is dead.

He died. Kevin’s words echo, almost mockingly. Moose Mason? Dead? It wasn’t as if she knew Moose particularly well, but she’s also known him her entire life. His entire life, she thinks with a sickening crunch to her stomach.

Betty closes her eyes and tries to retrace the moments at the base of the stairs. Joaquin running down the hall, someone yelling that Moose wasn’t breathing, Veronica and Archie arriving, the paramedics upstairs and shouting symptoms…they’d said something, a word she’d heard before. Some kind of medical term, maybe?

She exhales slowly, and when it finally feels like her lungs have nothing left in them, she blinks up at the ceiling. It doesn’t seem real. She saw him in class yesterday; she’d helped him spell the word scholastic. She feels sick; it’s one thing to abstractly investigate accidents and deaths on the other side of town, and it’s another to know someone taken by it.

Nibbling on her lip, she reaches over for her phone. She pulls Jughead up in her contacts and stares at the last conversation they’d had on Friday before the party.

Alright, I just watched 10 Things I Hate About You. It was so predictable!

That means you liked it :)

Does not

You like predictable

Can we keep the psychoanalysis off the table for once thank you very much

But then, a few minutes later, he’d sent:

I guess I see the appeal though

Betty stares at the exchange. Jughead does like predictability, despite whatever devil-may-care image he’s spent however long finely crafting. He may claim to be a cinema buff and a lover of creative integrity, but almost all of his favorite films have the exact same plot trajectory:

Character enters the mystery, then a reluctant partnership, a death or two halfway through to raise the stakes, followed by a big twist, followed by an ending that is somehow as satisfying as it is bittersweet.

She blinks back to the ceiling. If her life were a film, would last night have been the twist, or was the arc so obvious it couldn’t have been? Was this all foreshadowed by her obsession with finding the truth about the south side? Was this the moment that raised the stakes?

Or was a boy just dead?

The thought brings her soundly back into the moment. Her fingers hover over the keyboard of her phone, reading and rereading Jughead’s last text.

What she really wants to say is Hey, so what the fuck but that feels both too heavy and too joking somehow. Plus she’s not sure he’s ever heard her swear in the first place and the shock alone might distract him from the fact that she’s being serious.

But what would she say? Ask him what the hell Joaquin was doing fleeing the scene of what ended up being a death? That would feel accusatory and she doesn’t want to indict Jughead or even Joaquin of anything. After all Jughead opened up about people from the south side being stereotyped, and she just drops the blame on him or his friends without waiting for the full story?

No, she won’t insult Jughead by insinuating that.

So she settles on I have your leather jacket. She’s never seen him without it; she likes to imagine he has a closet full of them, like some cartoon character with only one outfit, but given the well-loved scuffing on this one, she doubts it. Anyway, she figures it’ll be easier to talk about this in person than try to navigate via text.

Do you want me to bring it to you? Meet at Pop’s?

About an hour later, and she still hadn’t gotten a response.

Or I’ll just bring it to school on Monday, whatever’s easiest.

Still nothing, and reluctantly Betty puts her phone aside to get ready for bed. Is he mad at her? Did she do something wrong? After her panic attack in the bushes of the Mantle mansion, the rest of the night had continued in such a haze that she barely remembers driving everyone home, but she tries to rack her brain for something she might’ve said to Jughead to upset him.

He’d tried to tell her something and she had shut him down, expecting it’d been the long-time-coming talk about boundaries and feelings. But Jughead doesn't seem like a guy who enjoys confrontation, and Betty would think he’d be relieved at dodging the “I have a girlfriend” talk.

Betty wonders if she should just be direct and ask him point blank if he knows anything. She remembers the terror on Joaquin’s face and Sabrina cursing madly down the stairs, but Jughead had seemed just as confused as she had been.

So why was he ignoring her?

She gets under the covers and pulls them tight up against her chin. There’s murmuring downstairs and the creak of her parents moving around, and Betty stares at the stick-on-stars on her ceiling and remembers tracing the constellations in the stars outside the party. She’d felt so happy then, if just for a fleeting moment.

She closes her eyes and thinks about Moose Mason.

.

.

.

Sunday drags on with glacial pace; this means two things. One, that no one else yet knows that Moose Mason, lovable high school linebacker, everyone’s All-American buddy, is dead.

Two, that her mother doesn’t know.

Part of her appreciates the day as the quiet before the storm, because once word reaches her classmates and especially once it reaches her mother and the town paper, it’s going to be hell. The north side of Riverdale has thus far happily kept horse-blinders on, but to lose one of their own is surely going to break the dam, especially if Moose didn't die naturally. 

Naloxone.

She sits upright in bed. The word comes to her in a flash, in a blinding memory of chaos and screams. “He’s hypoxic! Pupils dilated! Ready the naloxone!” The paramedic shouted, and Betty blinks. She hasn’t heard that word before, she’s read it.

She picks up her laptop and types it into the search bar. Naloxone, she reads, is the drug administered to people who have overdosed; it’s especially useful for those who OD on fentanyl because it’s so easy to over do.

Moose overdosed, she thinks, her mouth falling open. She clam shells her laptop shut and lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. On fentanyl? Moose Mason?

Fentanyl is not a drug typically found at the keggers of rich kids; it’s rough, and gritty. Cocaine, she could see. Prescription drugs, definitely. But her research has taught her fentanyl is typically cut into heroin, if anything, and that gives Betty pause, but she's not sure if it's her own unconscious prejudice about what an overdose should “look like” or if is this genuinely suspicious. 

She picks up her pencil and diary, her thoughts swirling. But after about ten minutes, Betty realizes she has just been staring at a blank page the whole time, and decides she’s not going to get anywhere with writing out her thoughts today, so she puts it aside and crawls over to her window perch.

Archie is sitting in his chair at his own window, spinning left and right as he juggles a worn-looking football between his hands. He looks up when Betty settles into her own seat, and moves to open his window. She does the same.

“How are you doing?” He asks, settling on his elbows.

With a pang of guilt, Betty realizes she’s been kind of neglectful of her friendship with Archie lately in lieu of time with the newspaper and, if she’s being honest with herself, with Jughead. But Archie has been equally busy with football and music and neither of them have made much of an effort lately. Betty makes a mental note to set aside some time for him.

“I’m okay,” Betty lies, forcing a light smile. “Thinking about Friday night though.”

“Me too,” Archie says, looking forlorn. “I keep trying to go through the people I saw at the party and the last time I saw them.” He pauses. “Who do you think it was?”

Betty bites her lip. Kevin had told her not to say anything and given the radio silence from Veronica too, she assumes he hasn’t told anyone but her. And she loves Archie, and while he’s decent at keeping secrets on his own, the minute someone presses him on it, he caves. He can’t lie to save his skin and telling him is too risky.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, deciding not to pass the buck, “but I have a really bad feeling about this, Archie. Like it’s only going to get worse.”

Archie nods. “I feel it too. But I don’t…I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…this weird heaviness, like it’s in the air or something. Does that make sense?”

It makes more sense than Archie probably realizes. Betty tucks her chin down and nods, glancing across the room to her wardrobe, where Jughead’s jacket is currently hidden, tucked away like some dark, living, breathing secret. She exhales, long and slow, and meets Archie’s gaze one last time. 

These violent delights have violent ends, she thinks.

.

.

.

Betty wakes earlier than normal on Monday morning; truthfully, her sleep was fitful and tossing, so it’s not too difficult to roll out of bed at 5 A.M. and dress for an early run. She slips out of the house and heads out into a jog around the block. She’s exhausted, but her heart hasn’t stopped hammering since Friday, and the anxiety masquerading as adrenaline pushes her steps into long, lean strides.

She pounds into the cement, hoping to chase a burn that will soothe her churning thoughts, but after about 40 minutes, she realizes she can’t literally outrun her feelings, and she heads back home.

Her mother is bustling about in the kitchen when she returns. Alice looks up when she hears Betty approaching. “You’re up early,” she says, in the pleased voice she always uses when she’s impressed with Betty pushing herself. “Get a good run in?”

“Yeah,” Betty says, still breathing heavily. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Her mother nods and returns to her morning mantra of preparing pancakes and coffee. Betty watches her mother work for a moment, almost robotically, like some kind of pre-Feminine Mystique housewife going through the motions.

As she's heading up the stairs, Betty hears the phone ring, followed by her mother answering it quietly. It's a little early for a phone call, Betty thinks, but dismisses it once she's out of earshot. 

After her shower, Betty forgoes breakfast and heads straight to school; she wants to get there early, before anyone else, to get some work done on the paper, because she has a feeling that the day is going to be nothing short of a tempest once school starts. The police won’t be able to contain this secret much longer.

When she arrives at the Blue & Gold, she checks her phone again, but there’s still nothing from Jughead. Sighing, she hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack. It’d barely fit in her backpack this morning, and practically weighed as much as her old cat, but there was no way she was gonna let her mother see her sneaking out the door with a big black leather jacket in hand.

Betty sighs and settles down in front of her laptop. She doesn’t really know what she’s looking for, and technically this is just her own theory, but something still feels very suspicious about the combination of an all-star football player and a dangerous drug like fentanyl. She spends the next hour or two reading up about rise in overdoses across the country—there apparently is no shortage of small town horror stories much like their own.

Riverdale isn’t special, she realizes, and then feels naïve for not looking at this as indicative of a larger, national problem. Still, there's not much that reassures her about the conflicting depictions of fentanyl use and the image of Moose Mason. 

After she’s read so many articles that her eyes start to cross, she slams her laptop shut and puts her forehead in her hands. She hears people mulling about outside the room; students have started arriving like a gathering flock of scavenging birds, circling ominously over a wounded animal.

Betty sighs, and decides to use the remaining minutes before the first bell to get a few things out of her locker. When she returns, there’s someone standing in front of the corkboard, and she has a brief moment of relief where she thinks it might be Jughead.

It’s not.

Agent Drew looks over his shoulder at her, his face serious, before glancing once more to the wall of clippings and index cards with theories. His eyes linger on the center card for FENTANYL.

He traces his eyes around the room, moving slowly, and reaches the collection of Nancy Drew novels stacked on a shelf. He runs his fingers over them contemplatively.

“You like Nancy Drew?” He asks with a small smile. Betty returns it awkwardly and nods, her mind still playing catch up with the fact that there’s an FBI agent in her newspaper office. “Me too. I always used to get teased for reading the Nancy books instead of the Hardy Boys, but, well, I liked her best.”

“Because of your last name?” Betty asks, without really thinking first.

“Sort of the other way around,” he says evasively, clearing his throat and straightening. “Anyway. Miss Cooper, when we last spoke, you mentioned a few things I would like to follow up on. Would you mind answering a few more questions for me? We don’t have to go to the station; we can do this right here.”

The first bell tolls between them, but neither move.

“I know my rights, sir,” she says, raising her chin in the air, in an act that looks more defiant than she feels. “You can’t question me without a parent.”

He smiles, and runs a smoothing hand over his already crisp suit jacket. In the warm yellow light of the Blue & Gold office, Agent Drew looks a lot younger and friendlier than he had on Friday night. “Miss Cooper—may I call you Elizabeth?”

“I go by Betty,” she says, in a shaky exhale.

“Betty, then. You’re not under arrest, or even in any trouble. This isn’t a custodial setting and we can stop at any time. If there were charges being laid, of course we would have a parent or a guardian present, but I just have a few qualifying questions.”

She shifts from one foot to another. He looks at her, eyebrows creasing. “Gauging from the generous collection of mystery novels and the set up on that corkboard, I get the sense that you’re someone looking for the truth. Well, I am too. That’s why I’m here.”

She considers him. She thinks about what Jughead would say if he were here; probably warn her about not trusting authority figures or something with a casual conspiracy theory about capitalist police states.

But Jughead isn’t here, and has been ignoring her for days now. Why should she care what he’d say? She stares at the coat rack where she’d hung his leather jacket this morning, thinking he’d want it back today.

“If you would like anyone here with you, you are more than welcome to it, and I’ll happily wait,” he adds, with a small smile.

“No, it’s okay,” she says hesitantly. Despite a growing wariness of law enforcement ever since Jughead entered her life, there is something trustworthy about Agent Drew. He doesn’t seem any less business-like, but in the light of day, he has almost a paternal air to him, despite the fact that he can’t be more than in his late 20s.

Agent Drew crosses the room to the door, which he closes gently. Betty takes her usual seat, and he slips into the one across from her; the place where Jughead usually sits. She’d been upset that he’d skipped school again today, but now she’s desperately hoping he doesn’t change his mind and stays away.

He hauls a heavy-looking briefcase onto the desk, and begins sorting through it. He pulls out a manila folder and that familiar little black notebook, and aligns them together so that they’re perfectly straight and parallel.

He opens up the folder and clears his throat. “As this information will be released to the public shortly, if not already, I should tell you that Mr. Marmaduke Mason, otherwise known as Moose, passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning.”

He glances up at Betty, watching her carefully for her reaction, so Betty feigns shock, her mouth falling open. She’s not sure she convinces him, because he narrows his eyes before moving on.

“This morning I received the toxicology report from the autopsy of Mr. Mason,” he says, and Betty feels a shiver at the word autopsy. “And, along with a few other things, there was a fair amount of the opioid known as fentanyl in his system. Now that I’m seeing your…er, corkboard, I’m wondering if you have anything you’d like to share with me in that regard. What made you suspect the overdoses on the south side were linked to fentanyl? As far as I know, that wasn’t published anywhere.”

“My friend Jughead suggested it,” Betty says cautiously. “He works with me on the school paper.”

“Ah,” Agent Drew sighs, opening up his little notebook and flipping through it. “Right, right. Mr. Jones. I ran the names that you gave me, and unfortunately, it poses a bit of a dilemma.”

Betty bristles. He reaches back into his briefcase and withdraws an identical envelope. He scans his eyes over the papers briefly and begins to read.

“Joaquin DeSantos, the one who you said placed the first 911 call, has been arrested on multiple accounts of vandalism over the years. Sabrina Spellman has been in so many fights it’s amazing she’s still upright. And your friend Jughead Jones was once held in juvenile court for trying to burn down his elementary school.”

He puts the folder down and crosses his arms over it. “All three are known Southside Serpents. I’m afraid that doesn’t bode well, given I’ve learned they fled the scene shortly after Mr. Mason was found and that Mr. DeSantos was seen leaning over Mr. Mason by a witness.”

He looks up at Betty, and she’s surprised to see he looks more resigned than anything.

Known Serpent, she thinks. All three are known Southside Serpents, she hears Agent Drew’s voice echoing. Trying to burn down his elementary school.

That couldn’t be right. Why hadn’t Jughead told her? How could he have kept that from her? Did he think she’d care? Judge him?

She feels hurt—beyond hurt, maybe—but she doesn't have time to unpack that. She tries to keep her attention on Agent Drew. Her nails breach the skin of her palms in an attempt at focusing.

“That might all be true, sir, but I don’t think it’s them or the Serpents who are selling the fentanyl. I think they’ve been getting targeted for refusing to. There have been a lot of motorcycle accidents and people being run off the road, and bricks going through windows, and—”

“Betty, please,” Agent Drew says calmly. “I’m not accusing the Southside Serpents of anything. To be frank with you, I know that the local police department here would very much like it to be that simple. It’d be a neat little bow to tie everything together and would get the mayor’s office off their backs. I’m a bit of an unpopular guy right now for suggesting otherwise, but I agree with you in that there seems to be a pattern here.”

He sighs, and busies himself with readjusting his files. “But I’ve gotten very off topic. Betty, the reason I actually wanted to speak with you today is because of your friend Veronica Lodge.”

Betty blinks. She pauses, not sure she’s heard him right. “What?”

“Betty, are you aware that Veronica’s father is currently awaiting trial in a federal penitentiary?” He asks, pen poised over the notebook once more.

“I mean…yeah, but for like, tax evasion, right? It’s not like he was arrested for murder.”

Agent Drew smiles, but it’s more of a grimace than anything. “That would be Al Capone. Though that’s not too far off base,” he adds, more to himself. He immediately looks frustrated with himself, and sighs, straightening. “Betty, has Veronica ever mentioned anything about her father to you?”

It’s one thing to help Agent Drew with the investigation into Moose’s death, and it’s another to start pointing fingers at her friends. She opens her mouth to tell him just that, but doesn’t get a chance to, because the door flies open with such a force that both of them jump in their seats.

“Elizabeth, stop talking,” someone says, and Betty looks up to see her mother storming across the room. She throws her purse down on a desk, her face red with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are, questioning my daughter without a parent or a lawyer in the room?”

“Mom, what the hell?”

Agent Drew bolts upright from his chair. “Ma’am, please, I just had a few questions for your daughter regarding my investigation. It’s perfectly within legal realms. I assure you she is in no trouble; I informed her that she had the option of awaiting guardianship—”

“I’d like to see some credentials,” Alice snaps. “And get your name, so that I can report it to your supervisor immediately.”

“Of course,” Agent Drew says, and quickly retrieves his identification badge. “Special Agent Charles Drew with the FBI.”

Alice stares at Agent Drew for a long, hard moment, her expression odd and pinched.

“Mom, how did you even know he was here?” Betty asks, and it’s as if a spell was broken. Alice inhales and turns to her daughter.

“I happened to have a meeting with Principal Weatherbee today regarding Homecoming. He mentioned to me that the FBI were on the grounds conducting interviews and, well, I saw you two through the door window.”

Betty knows her mother well enough to read between the lines; that means her mother pressed Weatherbee into a corner for information and then she immediately went stalking off for a scoop.

Alice turns to Agent Drew with appraising eyes. “What exactly is the nature of your investigation?”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Cooper, I’m afraid I can’t speak to the details of an ongoing case, however, beyond the fact that I’m now the primary investigator into Mr. Mason’s death this weekend.”

The revelation that a student died doesn't seem to shock Alice particularly, which means she must've learned about it this morning.

Betty looks at her. Her mother seems stuck between a rock and a hard place, perhaps warring with her instinct to needle for information and her desire to shelter her daughter from it. “And just how long has the FBI been involved here?” She asks, squinting at him.

“Details of the case will be made public after it’s closed, or until otherwise seen fit,” Agent Drew says, almost robotically. “Mrs. Cooper, I’ve done my research into this town, and I am aware that you and your husband run the town’s local newspaper, so unfortunately, you’ll have to wait for an official press conference to get your questions in.”

His lips twitch, just barely, and Betty realizes that actually might’ve been a joke.

“Fine,” Alice sniffs. “Now, if you have any more questions for my daughter, you can contact our lawyer. You’re done here.”

Agent Drew doesn’t seem particularly surprised that this is the conclusion of a helicopter parent storming into his interview. He gives her one last studying look before packing up his briefcase. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, and slips away.

Alice turns her eyes on Betty. “What was he asking you about?” She asks sharply. “I heard him mention Veronica Lodge’s name. I told you what I think of that girl. She’s not your friend.”

“Stop it!” Betty shouts. “You don’t even know her! Why are you so obsessed with this…witch-hunt with her and her family, when you should be talking about what’s really going on in this town?”

Alice crosses her arms and looks over at the corkboard. “What’s really going on in this town? You mean your flirtation with the high school newspaper? Elizabeth, please. Those gangbangers don’t care about you or any of us; why would you care about them? They made their bed and they’ll sleep in it as far as I’m concerned.”

Betty stares at her mother with horror. “Why are you like this?” She asks after a moment. “I mean, god Mom, what did they ever do to you?”

Alice just presses her lips together and looks back at the corkboard, her eyebrows creasing.

“People like you treat them like second-class citizens but they’re just as much part of Riverdale as we are. Just because they don’t fit into your Stepford fantasy doesn’t mean they aren’t,” Betty says, raising her chin into the air.

Her mother scoffs, though she looks noticeably ruffled. “Betty, this is hardly so Shakespearean. We’re not Capulets and Montagues. I’m perfectly sure there are some good people on the south side, but the fact of the matter is, I can say with certainty that a lot of them are gangbanging drug dealers. You of all people should know that by now, after what happened on Friday night, but you’ll see tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Betty repeats. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Your father and I are running a story about this boy’s death and the little Serpent that was seen standing over his body,” Alice says, staring out the window. She glances back at Betty sharply. “Or is that not what happened?”

“That—that’s you twisting it!” Betty sputters. “We don’t have all the facts, we have no idea what happened or how Moose got the drugs. You know, Jughead said—”

“Jug-head? Who is Jug-head?”

Betty realizes her mistake immediately. “He’s…he works with me on the school paper.”

“What an unusual name,” her mother muses suspiciously. “Hard to think there’s more than one Jughead in this town. Would he be the same Jughead Jones of south-side-proper that Reggie Mantle listed as being at the party?”

“He had nothing to do with what happened to Moose,” Betty says quickly. “He was with me all night.”

Alice hums; she has the same expression that Betty makes when she’s filing something away for later. Then she sighs, her whole posture deflating a little.

“Betty, you do remember that Reggie Mantle’s father owns half the share of the Register, correct? And then there’s party thrown by his son, apparently unbeknownst to them, and it ends in a boy’s death. Needless to say, it doesn’t look good for an upstanding family to have an overdose under their roof.”

“But...”

“Do you realize the kind of pressure Mr. Mantle is putting on us to write about the culprits who dealt the drugs or brought them onto his property?” Alice snaps, looking suddenly very tired. 

“But that doesn’t mean you should just start scapegoating the easiest target—”

Her mother turns to her, arms crossed. Her icy resolve seems to be melting a bit as she straightens.

“Betty, you wanted us to start talking about overdoses and drugs, and now we are. You wanted us to talk about the south side, and now we are. You don’t always get what you want the way you want it,” she says, and Betty is surprised to find the softness there, nestled in between a thoughtful frown.

Alice turns her attention back to the window. She almost looks sad now. “There are things I never wanted for you, honey, but I had to learn my lesson about Pandora’s box the hard way. And it seems you do too.”

.

.

.