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whathappenedtomyweekend · 2 years ago

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It’s Just A Spark Ch. 19 - Hundred Per Cent

Story: It’s Just A Spark

Author: TiliaofAnkh (me)

Read it on ao3 here and on ff.net here

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"Hello? Hiccup?"

Hiccup felt his heart unclench at the sound of her voice on the other end of the line and exhaled, leaning against his locker.

"Hey," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Everything okay?"

He smirked, his other hand coming up to rub his face. "Yeah, everything's - depends on how you look at it. I'm okay. It's, uh, it's about my cousin, Scott. He … his Dad found out he's bi and kicked him out - after beating him up."

He heard her gasp. "Oh, my God. That's horrible, I'm so sorry."

He sighed. "It's alright, he's been meaning to get out of there anyways. He's gonna stay with Gobber and my Dad for a few weeks until he's found something. But anyway, I was really just calling to tell you I won't be able to make it to come round, I'm really sorry. I've got to be here, for support. Also, he's technically on duty right now so I'm pulling a double shift to cover him."

There were a few moments of silence on the other side, but then Astrid asked, "Does he like tea?"

Hiccup stopped, taken aback. "What?"

He imagined her shrug. "Well, I mean - listen, I don't want to intrude. But if he likes tea, I've got this really nice loose leaf tea blend at home, and I could bring some over. If you'd like," she added and Hiccup's heart did a little jump, chasing a smile onto his face.

"He's more of a coffee guy," he said then, still grinning. "But I'd love a bit of some really nice loose leaf tea blend."

Astrid snorted lightly and replied, "Alright, so one coffee and three teas, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see you in ten, then."

"Yeah," Hiccup repeated, feeling completely at peace for the first time since he'd set foot into the department today. "Sounds perfect."

Memories of exchanged keys and a way too long work break flooded her mind as she spotted him, standing in the door.

Last time he'd been leaning against it, grinning at her with crossed arms.

Tonight, he was simply stood there. Upon stepping closer to the light, Astrid saw the expression on his face, her heart softening at the sight of him.

"Hey," she whispered into the darkness and gently laid her hands on his shoulders, pressing a light kiss onto his lips.

"Hey," he echoed, wrapping his arms around her just before she could pull away and hid his face in the crook of her neck. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," She in turn hugged his middle, gently running her hand across his back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed out, hugging her tighter. "Now I am."

She smiled at that, hugging him a bit tighter as well.

"You wanna go in?" Her voice was quiet in the darkness, and yet echoed through the hallway. He nodded against her and slowly - reluctantly - let go of her. And so she half-led, half-followed him into the command room, blinking as her eyes accustomed themselves to the light flooding the room. Hiccup led her through a door on the left-hand side of it and Astrid couldn't help but get lost in the way he was running his thumb across the back of her hand as he did so, warmth blooming in her chest.

They ended up in a rather small room with a sofa, a table and a kitchen area at the opposite end of the sofa.

"I'll put the kettle on," Hiccup mumbled and strode over to the hob. Astrid watched him carefully as he filled the kettle with water and took four mugs out of the cabinet above him.

He was stood hunched over, hands clenching around the handle of one of the mugs as he filled it with water and spoke, "It's weird, you know – growing up, I knew they had problems at home. But I really thought it was getting better for him."

"When did he know? That he was bi, I mean?"

Hiccup shrugged. "I think he just kind of always knew. But I don't think he always wanted to let it on; not only to others but also to himself. A big portion was just being in denial, I guess. He used to be a bit … difficult. We had some rough patches. Lots of shoving around and stupid nicknames." He smirked. "More stupid than now."

Astrid smiled at that. "I like your nickname. It's cute."

He chuckled and handed her the mug. "Thanks."

His hand laid down on the back of her shoulders as he gently motioned her towards the sofa, Astrid's heart fluttering as they sat down, his arm coming up around her, one of her legs draped between his.

He was staring into his mug for a while, shadows dancing on his skin, almost mocking it. A light stubble grazed his jawline, she realised as she took a closer look in the dim light. He looked tired, distracted.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. "Sorry I'm bombarding you with this. It's just … strange, you know? I mean, on one hand I feel really sorry for him because I know how important his relationship with his Dad is to him, I mean … he's always wanted to make him proud and do right by him. And I know," he quickly added as he saw the look on her face. "He hasn't done anything wrong. But in his father's eyes he has. And that's the problem. But you know, on the other hand, I also have the feeling this is gonna be good for him. He's been wanting to move out for a long time, and I think being away from all the judgement is going to do him some good. Having his own space in a couple of months."

"You said he's living with your Dad and Uncle for a while?"

"Yeah – but I mean, it's my Dad and Uncle," Hiccup smirked. Astrid frowned.

"How do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Well, my Dad's pretty chill about most things and Gobber gay. So this is kind of the best environment for Scott to be in right now. Having someone around who celebrates him for who he is."

Astrid hummed. "Alright. Well, to be honest, all of this doesn't really sound that bad – I mean, don't get me wrong, being kicked out is fucking horrible," she added with a slight sarcastic smile on her face. "But you get used to it. And you then have the freedom of being yourself. You can create yourself new, become who you've always wanted to become and stay true to yourself above anyone else."

The look on Hiccup's face was taking her by surprise. She'd expected anything from confusion to pity, but instead, she was met by pure tenderness.

The mug was set down onto the table. He reached out and gently took her hand.

"You've never told me that," he said, softly, his eyes dancing over her face, settling on her own. "Thank you."

Astrid could only stare back at him, completely flabbergasted. She couldn't get the 'You're welcome' over her lips. Instead, she mumbled, "I don't think I've ever said that to anyone. I don't usually speak about this. But I – with you it's okay. Ish. I guess."

He cracked a small grin at her. "Okay-ish? Good enough for me."

She laughed at that, realising how stupid she must have sounded. "Sorry, I didn't mean – you're great. And I like telling you things."

Hiccup hummed, gently resting his hand on her thigh, his face inching closer to hers. "I like telling you things, too."

And with that, he closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a soft collision, and Astrid closed her eyes, the sound of his heartbeat in her ears.

Hiccup suddenly pulled back, his hand still on her thigh, and Astrid frowned, looking at him with a searching expression. He was looking almost sheepish.

"Speaking of telling you things," he started, quickly reaching out to take a sip of his tea. "I realised something."

"Oh, God," she dead-panned. "Is this the part where you tell me that you don't actually like tea? I don't think our relationship would survive that," she quipped, nudging him lightly. She could see the nervousness written blankly on his face. It seemed more than that – Hiccup looked absolutely terrified. "Should I be worried?" she asked softly then, reaching for his hand. He shot her a small smile.

"I … don't know," he admitted then and ran the other hand through his hair. "I mean – it's just." He stopped, closed his eyes, breathed out and then inhaled deeply. "Do you remember that time I was on emergency response and got a call at like 3 in the morning-"

"You mean literally this morning?" Astrid's voice was as light as she could keep it, and she squeezed his hand, smiling up at him.

Hiccup grimaced. "Right, that was today. Huh. Well – yes. This morning. Well, I realised something. My job is dangerous – like, actually dangerous. Like 'I could die any given day' dangerous. And I just – I don't know, I feel like it's a risk. Being with me. I feel like there's so much at stake, for me being on the job, and for you being in a relationship with me. And I don't know whether you want to take that risk."

She was looking at him, her hand still in his and he couldn't make out the emotions behind her expressions.

"I-" she started, broke off and stopped. Her gaze fell onto their intertwined hands, and suddenly the words were stumbling over her lips. "I get that your job is dangerous, but I – I'd never not be with you just because you've got a dangerous job."

She looked him straight in the eye, blue waves crashing against the shore. "You're worth every risk."

I love you, Hiccup thought and said, "I've never written that message to anyone outside of work before. When I wrote you that I made it out okay."

They looked at each other for a few moments, and before Hiccup could ask her if she really was sure, Astrid whispered, "I didn't go home before I got that text," she looked up at him again, a small smile playing on her lips. "So good job on getting out of there, otherwise I would've made camp here and annoyed Gobber all day."

Hiccup chuckled, feeling all the weight he had felt before falling off his shoulders, and gave her a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"Is that gonna be our routine, then? You pulling all-nighters until you know I didn't get fried?" he smirked.

"Honestly? I'd probably get a lot more work done that way."

He laughed at that and pulled her close again, his free arm coming around her, closing his eyes as Astrid rested her head on his shoulder. "Alright. I'll check in with you about that in a week or so."

"Is that a challenge?"

He laughed at her sudden enthusiasm. "Maybe," he shrugged, grinning impishly. She lightly nudged him in the stomach.

"No, but really though," she continued, her tone getting serious again. "I meant it when I said you're worth the risk. I'm not going to let that stop me from – you know. I'm all in on this."

"One hundred per cent?"

"One hundred per cent."

#ijas #it's just a spark #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fluff #hiccstrid fanfiction #fanfiction #mine #tiliawrites #httyd #httyd 2

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vodkassassin · 4 years ago

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🥒✈ doing fuck marry kill using whoever. Obviously they will be overheard, by mqf, mbj, or both. Also can have sqh state his sexuality which is nothing. Ace rep baby.

Yesss danci I can always count on you! Thanks for slipping my hc ace!SQH in there. Ily @dancibayo

—

“I’m bored,” Shang Qinghua grandly announces.

“Yes, so you’ve said, fifteen times already,” Shen Qingqiu states dryly, but his friend steamrolls right over him.

“I am so bored, so,” Shang Qinghua says, “Shen-ge. Fuck, marry, kill.”

Shen Qingqiu startles, nearly dropping his fan. He whips around to stare at the other with wide eyes. Shang Qinghua props himself up onto his elbow and the grin that’s on his face is mischievous and evil.

“Wh—Airplane?” He nearly squawks, and then returns the grin. “No, stop—!”

Shang Qinghua’s grin nearly splits his face. “Fuck, marry, kill! Tianlang-jun—”

“No!” Shen Qingqiu laughs, reaching for the nearby cushion to chuck it at his cackling friend.

Shang Qinghua ducks the projectile and continues. “Tianlang-jun, Zhuzhi Lang—”

“Airplane!”

“And Sha Hualing!”

“Her?” Shen Qingqiu shrieks, diving for another pillow. His fan tumbles to the floor. “Out of everyone you could have picked for the choices, it had to be her?!”

Shang Qinghua, nimble bastard that he is, managed to avoid this cushion too. “First round will be easy! I definitely didn't have a brain blank and totally forgot anyone else existed. Plus! Shen-ge, I have to cater to the player! Bi-represent!”

“If it’s catering to the player, then this isn’t the game to play when it comes to you,” the Qing Jing peak lord grumbles.

He grabs his tea up from the table he sits at and down the entire cup in one go as if it’s a shot.

“You gotta choose!” Shang Qinghua needles, and Shen Qingqiu casts him a glare.

“Goddammit, fine,” he groans. “Um…. Fuck Tianlang-jun—”

Shang Qinghua bursts into laughter.

Shen Qingqiu scowls, but it directly contrasts the grin that is unwillingly stretching across his face. “What? At least I know he’s got experience!”

“Oh my god,” Shang Qinghua gasps, and then waves a hand. “Okay, go on, go on.”

He narrows his eyes at him, and then slowly continues. “Marry Zhuzhi-lang, and kill Sha Hualing.”

“Do you really hate her that much?” Shang Qinghua asks curiously.

“No,” Shen Qingqiu shrugs. “I mean, she’s practically a teenager, and I hate teenagers on principal, but no. She was just the only one left.”

“Fair enough,” Shang Qinghua bobs his head in acquiescence. “Why marry Zhuzhi-lang, though?”

“Well, I can’t fuck him—”

“I mean, you could, you monsterfucker—“

“You’re so goddamn rude, you know that?” Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes. “He’s just way too…. too baby. I can’t fuck him, so marry it is.”

“Oh, yeah,” Shang Qinghua finally agrees, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “He is just baby, isn’t he? Okay, good choices, I agree.”

“Your turn,” Shen Qingqiu says dangerously. Immediately, Shang Qinghua raises his hands into the air in surrender.

“I can’t play this game!” He whines. “I can’t fuck anybody! That drastically tilts the answer results!”

“Just change fuck to something else!” Shen Qingqiu demands. “You don’t get to just be the one who asks the question every time, that’s boring as fuck. Listen — kiss, marry, kill?”

“Kissing is like, the same as marrying though,” Shang Qinghua squints at the ceiling. He’s lying on his back now, feet dangling off the side of the bed. He gives them tiny, little kicks as he thinks. “Maybe, like, cuddle?”

“Isn’t that the same as kissing?” Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Just use kiss, moron.”

“Fine, okay, fine. So! Kiss, marry, kill… who?”

“Kiss, marry, kill… Liu Qingge, Mu Qingfang —”

“Oh my god, bro, please—”

“Listen, this is my revenge — and Mobei Jun.”

Shang Qinghua turns his head away from the so very fascinating ceiling just to glare at him. Shen Qingqiu feels so special, very loved. “You totally suck.”

Shen Qingqiu stoops down to grab his fan off the floor and flips it open just to smirk over the top of it at his friend. “You gotta choose.” He quotes.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I mean, you could go back to being bored, it’s all the same to me.”

Shang Qinghua scoffs, lifting his legs up and pressing the heels of his feet into the bed. “God, okay! Umm… kiss… uhh…”

Shen Qingqiu presses a hand against his mouth to smother his laughter. “I’ll wait.”

“Why the hell did you make this so hard for me?” His friend grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “You totally hate me don’t you? Um, kiss Mobei Jun—”

“Called it.”

“Shut up, monsterfucker. Kiss Mobei Jun, marry Mu Qingfang, and— oh fuck,” Shang Qinghua sits up and turns toward him, pout out at full force. “There’s only kill left! Shen-ge! I can’t kill Qingge!”

“You gotta,” Shen Qingqiu shakes his head sympathetically. “That’s the game.”

“This isn’t fair! I gave you an easy out on your first go with Sha Hualing, you have to return the favor!”

“You already started choosing!” Shen Qingqiu argues. “Anyone else I give you now is just me choosing a random person for you to kill!”

“I totally forgot kill was a choice after you gave me the names! Shen-geeeee!”

“Goddammit, fine! You can kill Yue Qingyuan, for me, okay?”

Shang Qinghua pauses his wailing to shoot him an amused look, pout vanishing into nothing. What a brat. “You really have it out for that guy, don’t you? Um, alright, sure, I’ll kill the sect leader for you, but only because we’re bros.”

“Don’t turn this back on me! You’re the one who begged me to give you someone else to kill! Anyway, it’s your turn.”

“Haha! Fuck, marry, kill — Rong Qingsheng, Ju Qingsong, and Qi Qingqi.”

“Easy,” Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Fuck Rong Qingsheng, marry Qi Qingqi, and kill Ju Qingsong. At least try and make this hard for me, Shang-ge, c’mon.”

“Wow,” Shang Qinghua sits up again to look at him, tugging one of the thrown cushions into his lap to hold. “No hesitation at all! You decided that so fast… what’s the thought process?”

“Rong Qingsheng is pretty, and not a douche at all, so I’d rate him pretty up there on the fuckable scale just for that. Qi Qingqi is a scary lesbian Amazonian warrior, and if I wasn’t male I’d definitely go for her, but if she ever needed to marry a man as, like, a cover for her true lesbian activities while under the thumb a homophobic dystopian government or something, then I wouldn’t mind submitting my application for that.”

“She can be pretty, uh…” Shang Qinghua makes a face. “I mean—”

“Purposefully provocative because she likes watching macho men squirm when she takes them down a peg and also has bigger muscles than them?” Shen Qingqiu sighs dreamily. “Yes, it’s boss as fuck.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to word it exactly like that, but yeah,” Shang Qinghua admits. “And Ju Qingsong?”

“He’s an annoying pest. Kill.”

“Bro!”

“What? Please, You cannot tell me that you haven’t daydreamed about wringing his neck even once?”

“I mean. He can be kinda—”

“Irritating? Aggravating? Drive-one-to-murder?”

“—But! Under all that he’s a good guy! He can be really sweet, actually! He’s only really like that because he’s got a useless gay crush on—!”

The door is kicked in. Shen Qingqiu startles, dropping his tea straight into his lap while Shang Qinghua gives a loud yelp and falls completely off the bed with a resounding thump.

They both whip around to stare in uneasy and slightly-guilty silence at the group of people standing outside the door.

“Oh my gods,” Ju Qingsong says, face pale and arm still outstretched. “It was so amusing at first, but please don’t kill me, I promise I’ll be better!”

Rong Qingsheng leans around the man and stares at them for a moment, before casting Shen Qingqiu a wink.

“I wouldn’t mind,” the mild-mannered man says, and Shen Qingqiu brings a hand up to rub over his face.

“Not that I’m not incredibly interested to hear what this was all about,” Mu Qingfang says, from behind them, and Shang Qinghua squeaks. “But, it’s time for Shen-shixiong to take his medicine.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Shang Qinghua pleads, holding his hands up to cover his beet-red face.

“I’ll do you one better,” Shen Qingqiu says calmly, pulling off the tea-drenched outer robe. “If any of you eavesdroppers have loose lips about what you heard here, to anyone, then I will kill you. Understand?”

Ju Qingsong makes an odd sound in his throat, one that sounds both terrified and furious, and the way that the man glances between him and the smirking Rong Qingsheng leads Shen Qingqiu to believe he knows exactly who Shang Qinghua was going to say his ‘crush’ was. How adorable. Too bad for him, then, that Rong Qingsheng seems to find him just as annoying as Shen Qingqiu does.

“There will be no murdering of martial family,” Mu Qingfang says mildly, stepping into the room. “Is that water boiled? I thought I’d try the tea blend, since the capsule form doesn’t agree with you, shixiong.”

“Many thanks,” Shen Qingqiu says.

“Oh, it’s never a problem. Shang-shixiong, Qingge was looking for you. I believe he has the location of one of those flying thunder beasts the two of you were discussing the other day?”

“I don’t wanna go monster hunting again,” Shang Qinghua wails. “Why can’t he just play go with me and call it a day?”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome, Shang-ge,” Shen Qingqiu tells him, smiling politely at the betrayed look his friend shoots him. “Would you mind escorting these two out?”

“See if I ever bring you the newest tea leaf export again,” the An Ding lord huffs, climbing to his feet. “Rong-shidi, Ju-shidi, lets go.”

“Qingsheng, Qingsheng, let's play that game too—!”

“I’m not doing this with you, Qingsong. Shang-shixiong, let's go. I wanted to talk to you about next month's produce quota.”

“Sure thing, Rong-shidi!”

“But, Qingsheng—!”

“Bye, Shen-ge, see you later!” Shang Qinghua chines cheerfully as he tugs the moping man after him. Rong Qingsheng walks out ahead of them. “I had a lot of fun today!”

“Sure,” Shen Qingqiu says, fan fluttering before his face.

He’d enjoyed it too, of course, but he’d never say that out loud. Besides, Airplane already knows, right? There’s no need.

#svsss prompts #scumbag villain self saving system #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #fuck marry kill #peak lord ocs #Mu qingfang #vodka answers #vodkassassin fanfiction #dancibayo

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gooddaykate · 4 years ago

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You Already Mean the World to Me

Marcus Pike x Reader

Word Count: just under 8500

Tags: childhood best friends, pining idiots, King Arthur/Monty Python references, some cursing, roughly unedited terrible writing

A/N: It’s finally here! Again, absolutely would not have been finished without the constant support of my dearest @thedaysarenotfull. @hdlynn helped me talk through my roadblock. Let me know what you think!

You had been friends with Marcus Pike for as long as you could remember. You grew up together. You were toddlers together. You went to the same schools together. You fell in love with art together. You went to every gig his band had. He went to every art show of yours. You stood up as his “best man” in the wedding to his college sweetheart, and sat with him while he cried after she’d handed him the divorce paperwork.

You weren’t sure which broke your heart more.

You were certain that Marcus was the love of your life. He had just… never felt the same. And that was okay! You were perfectly fine loving him as much as you could. When he left a quiet but excited voicemail at three in the morning telling you that he met someone, you let all the love you held for him mold into the cracks in your heart.

Three months and many conversations about Teresa later, you got a call from him.

“Hey, Lance, I have news. Guess what.”

“Oh, it’s good you called, I’ve got news, too. Yours, though? I don’t know, Art. You’re finally moving to DC to come be with your best friend?” you asked sarcastically. The line was quiet for long enough that you took the phone off your ear to look and see if the call had dropped. “Marcus?”

“How did you know?” You could practically hear his furrowed brows.

“Wait, what?”

“How’d you know I’m moving to DC?”

“I was being facetious, you asshole. Are you serious? Are you really moving here? You’re not going to be halfway across the country anymore?”

“Nope. I got a promotion. I’ve got about a month left here in Dallas, and then I’m headed your way. I’m invincible!”

“You’re a loony,” you laughed, continuing the phrase you’ve said to each other since you were kids. “Oh my god, Marcus! That’s so incredible! I can’t wait to show you some of my favorite places. I mean, you haven’t even visited me here, Marcus, and I’ve been here for three years.”

“Yeah, I’m excited. It’ll be nice to be in the same city again, huh? Tell me your news, though.”

You laughed. “Forget city, just the prospect of even being in the same time zone is getting me excited. My news doesn’t really feel all that important, now. My show kind of took off and I had to get an agent. Now I’ve got three galleries wanting my paintings.” You knew Marcus couldn’t see you, but you shrugged anyway. “I’m not as excited by that anymore. Not when I’ll get to see you very soon. I can’t wait to have you here, oh my god. I’ve missed you so much, Art.”

“Hold the hell up, you mean to tell me that the first art show you’ve had your work in got so much traction that you needed to hire an agent? So you’re actually painting full time, now?”

“I guess when you put it that way, it does sound kind of important.”

Marcus let out a sarcastic laugh. “You freakin’ think? Man, I’m so proud of you, Lance!”

That brought a smile and heat to your face. “Thank you, Marcus,” you said quietly. “But yeah, painting full time. That triptych I did of the valley back home, remember that one?” Marcus hummed in affirmation. “That one sold for nine k. Three grand a panel, Marcus. I about crapped myself when Jenny told me how much the guy was offering.”

“That’s awesome. Did you ever meet the buyer so you could thank him in person?”

“Nah, he was some anonymous guy out of Texas somewhere. Apparently he grew up in the same general area we did. He told Jenny it reminded him of home. Enough about me, though! When will you be here officially? I’ll help you move in.”

“Three weeks. I don’t know the actual date, yet.” Marcus was quiet for a moment. “I, uh, I asked Teresa to come with me.”

In the euphoria of the galleries and having your best friend back, you’d forgotten about his potential plus one. “Oh! Oh, that’s… quick.”

He immediately jumped on the defensive. “It’s not like I demanded she go with me. She has a month to think about it. I’m going to talk to the director there and see if a place could be made for her, so she’d have a job to go to if she wants it.”

You tried to backpedal. “No, I know, Marcus. I know. It’s just,” you tried to find the words. “I don’t know, Art, you’ve been dating for three months. And I know you don’t want to hear it, bud, but I just… I just don’t think she’s all the way in like you are.”

“What?” he spat.

“From what you’ve told me I just-”

Marcus interrupted you. “Oh, that was rhetorical. You really don’t have to say it again.”

“Art, I’m sorry I just don’t think-”

The way Marcus said your first name stopped you in your tracks.

“If you can’t support me in this, then maybe I need to take a step back from our friendship.”

“Wait, Marcus, don’t you think that’s a little dramatic? I mean, I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. Art, you’ve gotta-”

“That’s enough. I’ll talk to you later.”

The line was quiet again, but you knew the line was dead this time.

“Bye, Art.” You sucked in a heavy breath and could feel your lower lip starting to quiver. “I love you.”

•

DC didn’t feel right. Marcus had moved with mostly excitement. He put a down payment on a house not far from headquarters. Teresa would be joining him today- he needed to leave to pick her up from the airport in about an hour, and then they’d start life as an engaged couple.

But Lance was missing.

It’d been almost five weeks since he’d spoken to her. He knew he’d been hasty and rude the last time they’d talked. He also knew she was just trying to help him protect his heart. But he didn’t need his heart protected. Lance didn’t know Teresa like he did. She’d see that when Teresa was finally here and they could meet. Everything was going to work out.

Marcus picked up his phone to call her for the hundredth time since moving to the same city she lived in. He missed her, and he knew it was his place to pick up the phone and apologize, but he just couldn’t.

A call from Teresa lit up his screen.

That’s odd, he thought. She should be on a plane right now.

•

The next five weeks passed slowly. The longest you’d ever gone without talking to Marcus was that one weekend when you were in high school and he went on a camping trip and didn’t have service.

This was slow torture, and you knew it was your fault. If you’d just kept your mouth shut and supported him like you had with Ashley, this wouldn’t have happened. It would have hurt you, but at least he’d still be around.

You knew he was in DC by now. Because of the way things were left, you didn’t even know if Teresa had decided to come with him, though you figured she’d be stupid not to. You had considered going to the fbi headquarters and asking for him, but then you thought better of it. The fbi probably wouldn’t appreciate some random person coming in and asking for an agent, and you didn’t really want to be detained. That probably wouldn’t win any points back in Marcus’ book.

Going to your studio was just depressing. Everything you painted was spoiled by your sadness. Your agent had laughed and called this your blue period. You just threw a pained smile her way with a nod and a shrug.

It was nearing the end of the sixth week without any contact from him, and you felt the Marcus sized hole in your heart. The other day, you ordered Indian takeout, and only when you were sitting on the couch with it on your lap did you realize that it was the malai kofta that he would usually get. That realization just served to make you cry and lose your appetite.

You were getting ready for bed when you heard a knock on your door. Thinking it was the sweet old woman from next door in need of some honey for her nightly tea again, you shrugged on your robe and swung the front door open with a smile.

But it wasn’t Miss Agnes.

Marcus’ eyes were rimmed red. He just stood there in your doorway looking at you. The sight of him brought you tears of both relief and concern. His chin wobbled and more tears sprung up in his eyes.

“Marcus, I’m so sorry. I never should have-”

He cut you off with a shake of his head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so sorry, Lance. I just didn’t want to hear it. I’ve missed you so much.”

You let go of the door to open your arms to him. He fell into your hug with a heavy sigh. You closed the door behind him and then just held him. You both had silent tears rolling down your faces.

Marcus mumbled something into your shoulder.

“What, sweetheart?” you whispered.

You could feel the wobble of his chin when he moved his face to answer. “You were right.”

“Oh, Marcus. I’m so sorry. That’s the last thing I wanted to be right about, hon. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t want to be the first to let go, so you just stood in your front hall holding him. After a few more minutes of tired silence, you moved your face from the crook of his neck so he would be able to hear you.

“Marcus, honey, why don’t we move to the living room? It’ll be more comfortable. And then maybe you can tell me about it? If you’re up for that. We’ve missed a lot the last month and a half.”

He stayed quiet and glued to you for just a bit longer, before mumbling a ‘yeah’ and letting go. You grabbed his hand and led him to the couch.

“Tea?”

Marcus grabbed one of the fluffy throw blankets you had folded in the basket by the couch. “Yeah. Please.”

Walking into the kitchen, you grabbed a chamomile mint blend from the shelf and spooned some of the loose leaf into a steeper. You squeezed a honey stick into each mug and waited for your electric kettle to come to a boil. When you got back to the living room, Marcus was sitting cross-legged on the couch with the blanket pulled over his head.

“You look kind of like a sad nun, Art.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up as he took a mug from you. You sat facing him on the other end of the couch and just waited. He’d tell you when he was ready.

“I had, uh,” Marcus cleared his throat. “I had asked her to marry me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited for him to continue.

“She had said yes. She said she’d move here with me and had agreed to marry me. I put a down payment on a house. I was so happy.”

“Did she change her mind?”

Marcus scoffed. “She didn’t just change her mind. She left me for Patrick Jane.”

“Wait, the asshole clairvoyant?”

Marcus rolled his eyes, but the ghost of a smile lit up his face. “Yes, the asshole clairvoyant. I guess she’s been in love with him for years and it just took the prospect of her being taken away for him to finally realize he wanted her.”

You put your hand on his blanket covered knee. “If that’s the kind of man she wants, then you’re better off, Marcus. She made it clear that she only wanted him to see what he’d lose without any regard for who she hurt in the process. I know it won’t fix anything, but I’m so sorry, Marcus. You didn’t deserve that.”

He looked over at you with more tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong with me, Lance? Why am I not wanted? What am I doing wrong?”

“Marcus Alexander Pike.” You reached out to your coffee table to set your mug down. When you looked back at him, his eyes were wide. “My best friend in the entire world. Sunshine of my life. My literal favorite person. There is nothing wrong with you, okay? Let’s pick this apart, shall we? Starting with Ashley. I can guarantee you’re not going to like this part of the conversation because I’m going to be blunt and say not nice things about people you’re too kind to stop caring about, but it needs to be said, okay?”

He nodded slowly and looked down at the mug still in his hands. You put your hand on his knee and nudged so he would know to turn and face you. When he got the memo, you nodded and continued.

“Marcus, what is your degree in?”

“Art history with a specialization in art conservation. But you know that.”

“I do. Did Ashley?”

“Well, I mean, I assume so, yes. We met in art history in undergrad.”

You blinked at him. “Marcus, why did you join the fbi?”

“Well, the job I had with the museum didn’t exactly pay a whole lot, and Ashley knew someone in the art recovery department that got me an appointment. And it pays a lot better, so…” he trailed off.

“So you gave up your dream job and safety for the sake of a higher paycheck?”

He scoffed. “Well, of course. There are just some things that you have to compromise on in a marriage. You’d know that if you ever let anyone close enough to try.”

You shot him a glare. “First off, we’re not talking about me, asshole. Uncalled for. Second, compromise, I get. But what did she compromise? Marcus, you gave up your dream job, friends, a town you loved all for a dangerous job because your wife said she wanted more disposable income to spend at Nordstrom?”

“I was happy to do all of that because we loved each other and she-”

“Marcus, Ashley cheated on you,” you interrupted.

“No she didn’t, Lance. And even if she did, I was just too overbearing. I pushed her away.”

You heaved out a sigh. “Okay, let’s look at the facts. I know you’ve kept tabs on her. How long after your divorce was final was she engaged to that Todd guy?”

“Tedd, actually, but three-ish months.”

“You cannot tell me that she wasn’t with that guy while y’all were still married. She was never someone to rush into things. I mean, you asked the girl three times to marry you, and she said ‘not yet’ the first two. So three months after she wasn’t Mrs. Pike anymore, she rushes into another marriage? You’re a smart man, Marcus. Use that big fbi brain to look at the facts.”

“Okay, sure. She cheated on me. But like I said, I’m the one who pushed her to that in the first place. I was too much. Overbearing, or whatever.”

��Don’t make me bring out your middle name again, sir. I’ll do it.”

Marcus just rolled his eyes.

“Roll reversal, Marcus. Let’s say you were married to a wonderful woman who gave you her all.”

He scoffed. You shushed him.

“No interruptions. Quiet. Let’s say this wife gets a new job because you didn’t think the one she loved paid enough to support you.” You held your hand up to silence the start of his protest. “Ah, ah. Theoretical, Art. Roll reversal, remember?”

His eyes rolled, but nodded for you to continue.

“So she gets a new job that puts her in danger on the daily. Still passion-adjacent, so she figures ‘at least she’s got that’. And then you meet some other woman at some country club you insist on having a membership to and you refuse to work like this is the freaking fifties because she’s the breadwinner and you’re the absolute worst.”

Marcus’ eyebrows had shot up. “Wow. You really didn’t like Ashley.”

“No, I didn’t. She was a shitty person and a worse wife. Stop interrupting.”

He shook his head. “You’ve made your point, Lance. She wasn’t right for me. I didn’t pick well there, either.”

You placed your hand on his knee again and gave a soft squeeze. “The point I’m trying to make, Marcus, is that you’re already worthy of love exactly as you are. You deserve someone who’s going to support you in everything, just like you’d do for them. You’re also allowed to feel used, Marcus. Ashley used you to get herself into a specific station so that she could live a charmed life. Teresa used you to show the man she actually wanted what he’d be missing. Neither of those relationship failures are your fault. You are the kindest man I know. You deserve to have your love returned tenfold. You more than anyone I know. It breaks my heart that you’ve had to deal with these horrible women.”

He gave you a sad smile. “Come on, Lance. They aren’t horrible.”

“Just because you choose to see the good in people, doesn’t mean I have to. And to be quite frank about it, if I ever see either of them, I will be throwing the first punch, I don’t give a damn. I’ll go to jail. I don’t care. They broke your heart, they can go through me.” You crossed your arms over your chest and mumbled, “Bitches.”

Marcus barked out a laugh and you smiled.

“And that’s why you’ll always be my Lancelot. I know you’ve got my back.”

Your smile dropped for a moment, but you plastered another on and placed your right fist over your heart. “Always, my king.” You dropped your hand and just sat smiling at each other, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, just playing a silly game.

“Alright, Art. I’ve got a hankering for pancakes, so I’m going to call Bob & Edith’s and order some. I swear, they’re the best here. I’ll go pick them up and then we can chow down, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan to me, Lance,” he said with a yawn.

You knew he wouldn’t be awake for much longer, so you decided to just hold off on the pancakes, but walked into the kitchen anyways. You busied yourself by cleaning out the tea steepers and dumping the water left over in the kettle.

“On second thought,” you called, “I know I’m tired. I’m sure you’re exhausted. So I think I’ll just hold off until we can go sit in together.”

When there wasn’t a response, you turned the sink off. “Marcus?”

You walked down the short hallway and came back into the living room to find that Marcus had fallen asleep on the sofa. His long legs were stretched out taking up all of the space, and he still had the blanket wrapped loosely around his head and shoulders. You grabbed another to drape over his body.

Standing above him, you gently ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a satisfied hum, but didn’t stir.

“There’s another thing that I didn’t say, Art,” you whispered. You didn’t have the courage to say it to him while he was awake, but you needed it said out loud. “Watching you pick these women who only want to break your heart is torture for me. I have loved you for so long, and they have just hurt you. I wish they could have seen you like I see you. You’re such an incredible man, Marcus. You’re so kind and selfless, and so, so handsome. You make me laugh. You indulge me in late night pancake runs. I just wish I would get the chance to show you the love that you deserve.”

Marcus shifted a bit, and you paused your hand working through the curls on his forehead. When he didn’t wake up, you continued. “I know I’m not who you want, though. It’s not ever going to be me. I’m okay with that, I promise. I will just keep quietly loving you because you’re the best man I know and you deserve it. Sweetheart, you are worth so much. I hope one day you can find someone who appreciates and loves you like I do. I really, truly hope so. You really are the sunshine of my life. You already mean the world to me. I love you, Marcus.”

You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead and then turned to head back to your room.

When you woke up the next morning, Marcus had left, but he had written a note and put it on top of the folded blankets he had used.

Your neighbor came over to see if you could help move her new couch in. If you need me, I’m over at Agnes’.

Making your way over with a Tupperware of scones you had made, you heard Miss Agnes chatting Marcus’ ear off.

“It’s been so nice having that sweet girl next door. She always indulges my whimsy.”

Marcus laughed. “Mine, too, Agnes. For entirely too long. I’ve known her since we were two, ma’am. She’s had to put up with me for years.”

You knew if you walked in, you’d see her hand on his shoulder. “That’s certainly not the way she puts it, my dear boy. That girl is enamored with you. I’m glad to see you’ve finally come to your senses.”

There was a deep sigh. “I was wrong for not talking to her for so long. I was mad, but she’s my best friend, so that’s not an excuse.”

Miss Agnes’ chuckle was breathy and her chair creaked as she sat down in it. “It was like her heart had been ripped out for weeks. You can’t leave the love of your life stranded like that, young man.

“Love of- no, Agnes, I think you’ve got it wrong. Lance and I are- we’re just friends. We’ve been friends since we were kids. Friends. She’s not the l- we’re just friends.”

Rather than let Marcus flounder and also have him casually break your heart without knowing it again, you walked into the room. Marcus was sitting on the flowery print couch and Miss Agnes was sitting in her usual reclining chair across from him.

“Are you done with your interrogation, Miss Agnes? Can I have my friend back?”

“Oh, fine, sweet girl, but you need to promise me that you’ll be straight with this one.”

“I always am, Miss Agnes. I brought you some scones for your tea. I’ll leave them on the kitchen counter, okay?”

She gave you a pointed look. “Well I think he needs to know that-”

“Miss Agnes,” you gave her a small shake of your head. “Please.”

Her sharp eyes stayed on you and she raised her eyebrow, but didn’t say more.

Marcus looked between the two of you with furrowed brows. “Okay, well, it was good to meet you Agnes. I’ll probably see more of you, now that I listened to reason.”

“Not all reason, boy, but enough. Keep thinking about what I said. The both of you.”

With both of you back in your home, you turned back to him with a smirk. “So what had she talked to you about that she wanted you to think about?” you asked, as if you hadn’t had your heart stepped on by his response.

“Oh, uh. She was just under the impression that we were more than just friends. Or maybe that we should be. I don’t know what she was saying, for the most part. What was that look you two shared at the end there?”

You brushed it off with a shrug. “Oh, Miss Agnes just likes to tease me, that’s all.”

Marcus hummed like he didn’t fully believe you, but he didn’t push it.

“Well, I’ve got to go to the office today, so I’ll see you later?”

You smiled. “Of course, Art. Text me your address. I’ll bring you some dinner?”

Marcus reached over and pulled you into a hug. “That would be great. Thank you, Lance. For everything.”

“Of course, bud. Any time, you know that.”

With a wave, he was out the door.

•

The decision to take the undercover case in Dallas was not an easy one.

He knew it would be a relatively easy case, but the prospect of seeing both Teresa and Jane was… daunting, to say the least. Marcus was over his anger at Teresa. He still had the lingering sadness of the ‘what if’, but Lance had helped him see that she wasn’t right for him in the first place.

He’d been off since the night he’d apologized to her. He could tell that she knew something was up, but he also knew she wouldn’t say anything about it until he did.

The truth was, he’d been awake when she came back out to her living room that night. He hadn’t meant to deceive her like that, but he knew from experience that she would have been embarrassed if he’d given away that he was actually hearing what she was saying. And he couldn’t believe it. Lance? In love with him? It didn’t add up.

And that’s why he’d been off. He didn’t know where his head was at. He’d had a crush on her his freshman year of high school, but that was it. He’d never actually considered her as a romantic partner, and it was throwing him for a loop. How the hell was he supposed to say that he wasn’t interested in her. Did he even need to say anything at all? They’d gone this long as just friends, they’d be fine, right?

But more importantly, what if he was wrong, and she was exactly who he actually needed? What if the butterflies he felt every time he looked at her were real? Lance helped him slow down, helped him breathe. She was the eye of his storm, whenever he was out of control. She knew when to apply pressure and when to leave him alone. She’d been the person he turned to when he was at his most broken.

What if Agnes was right, and she was the love of his life?

All of that was running through his head as he bent over Teresa’s desk to leave her a note saying he was happy for her.

“Uh, excuse me, can I help you?”

Marcus stood with a sigh. “Jane.”

“Pike, hello.”

He turned toward Patrick and then shifted back again. “I was, uh, looking for Teresa.”

Jane came closer. “Yeah, I’m sure she’s uh,” he looked around the glass-walled office. “I’m sure she’s around here someplace.”

This is weird, Marcus thought. “Yeah, she probably is.”

“Beard looks good.”

“It’s for an undercover thing.” It felt like they were at the start of some measuring contest and all Marcus could think of was Lance’s voice saying ‘that asshole clairvoyant guy?’ He shifted his weight to the other leg and decided to hell with it. He wanted to know. “So it’s, uh,” he smiled at Patrick, trying to show he wasn’t angry. “You and her.”

Jane walked closer still. “Yeah,” he looked down and at least had the decency to look guilty. “I’m sorry, we didn’t intend for it to happen like this.” Jane took a breath and Marcus had to look away from him. “I know it was the last thing on her mind, the idea of hurting you.”

Marcus wanted to laugh, because he knew that wasn’t the case. Asshole clairvoyant rang in his head again. Jane couldn’t have given a care less, and Teresa’s goal was to show Jane what he’d miss.

“I know,” was his response instead. “I know that.”

Asshole clairvoyant. “So do you have a plan?” He crossed his arms and stepped away from Teresa’s desk.

Jane rolled his eyes and looked away. “I don’t really understand.”

Asshole clairvoyant. “Well, I was offering her a life, a home, a family if she wanted it. A future. Have you thought about any of that?” Marcus knew the answer was no, but he wanted to hear Jane say it.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”

Marcus hummed and furrowed his brows in mock thought. “Well, what are you offering her? I mean, other than,” he gave Jane a once-over. “Patrick Jane?”

Marcus turned at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Hey.” Teresa looked spooked, like this was the last place she wanted to be.

Jane looked up at him with a smug twist of his lips. “Excuse me.” He walked over into the hallway, far enough away that he wasn’t in the conversation, but close enough that he’d be able to hear it.

Asshole clairvoyant.

Marcus looked down at Teresa and sighed.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I was upstairs giving a deposition, and uh, thought I’d say hi,” Marcus looked away. “Stupid idea,” he said with a sad chuckle.

Teresa responded with a nervous chuckle of her own. “No, it’s fine.”

She still hadn’t actually looked him in the eye. He looked over at Jane and watched him angle his face away like he wasn’t listening in. “Anyway, it’s good to see you, Teresa.”

“You too, Marcus.”

“Jane.” Patrick nodded back at him.

That one tense conversation was all the closure he needed. Teresa was never his, Lance had been right about that. She had been right about a lot of things. The ‘what if’ brought the storm of butterflies back to his stomach. He walked out of the office with a smile. For maybe the first time in his life, he knew the next time he gave his heart away, it would be safe. He needed to have a conversation with his best friend.

•

Two months after ‘the absurdity’, as you and Marcus had taken to calling it, he had to go back to Dallas for some work thing. He had grown out his hair and beard, said it was some undercover job. You were a little worried for him, knowing he’d have to be back in the Dallas office with Teresa and that clairvoyant guy. He told you he’d be fine, and you hoped that was true.

You hadn’t left your studio in almost seventy-two hours, but the wall sized landscape you were working on was almost finished. Marcus still hadn’t been to your studio, and that was fine by you. You’d started a portrait of Marcus because Jenny had asked you to paint something personal to get back to “your emotional roots”. Whatever that meant. Marcus being out of town and not coming to your studio meant that the portrait could sit out undisturbed while you made slight changes to the oil paints.

Jenny knocked and let herself in. “Okay, love, how’re we doing?”

You stepped back from the landscape. “Done with this one. I’ll let it sit for a week or so, see if anything needs to be layered over after it’s dried, and then it can head to the gallery. What do you think?”

Jenny hummed as she looked up at it. “It's difficult to enter into this work because of how the disjunctive perturbation of the purity of line endangers the devious simplicity of the essentially transitional quality. With regard to the issue of content, the disjunctive perturbation of the spatial relationships brings within the realm of discourse the distinctive formal juxtapositions. I'm troubled by how the mechanical mark-making of the emotional signifier visually and conceptually activate the remarkable handling of light.”

You paused and took a steadying breath. “Jenny, what in the blue blazes are you talking about? You sound like you’re talking out of your ass. Would you have said all that bullshit to Bob Ross? It’s just some happy little trees and a majestic mountain.”

“As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t have. But I’m not Bob Ross’ agent. I’m yours.”

You scoffed. “That doesn’t mean you can make up critique-y phrases. If it’s bad, just say it’s bad.”

“Oh, whatever.” She turned to the smaller piece to her left. “Is that portrait the one I asked you to do? The personal project?”

You tried to school your features so they wouldn’t soften too much at the sight of Marcus’ profile. “Indeed it is.”

Jenny looked at you with wide eyes. “Whoa, do you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

Your eyes snapped back to her. “No. Why would you think that?”

Jenny chuckled. “Well, if that reaction wasn’t enough, this is a pretty… striking portrait, babe.”

“I’ve just known him my whole life. That’s all that is, Jenny,” you said, still trying to deflect.

She hummed. “Then I may ask him out when I see him. He’s quite handsome.”

You swallowed and tried to collect yourself. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess he is. I could, uh,” the lump forming in your throat was making it difficult to speak. “I could introduce you, or whatever.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “Girl. Just tell me the goddamn truth.”

You threw your arms up. “What do you want me to say, Jen?! That I’m in love with my best friend and have been since the second grade when he climbed a tree to get my teddy that a big kid had stuffed up there? That no man will ever measure up to him because he’s everything I’ve ever wanted? That it kills me to think of him with someone who isn’t me, but also kills me to know that it’s my reality? That Marcus will never love me the way I love him because all I’ll ever be to him is his fucking Lancelot?!”

Your chest was heaving after yelling most of that at Jenny. A dry sob clawed its way out from your chest.

She uncrossed her arms and engulfed you in a hug. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. I was teasing, I didn’t think. I’m so sorry honey.”

Jenny patted your back and pulled away. “Why don’t you go home, hon? You haven’t showered. Have you even eaten anything?”

You looked away from her disapproving face. “Dry granola,” you said sheepishly.

“Girl. Go home. I’ll clean up here. Go get yourself cleaned up. Make yourself something to eat. I’ll be by in a couple hours to make sure you’ve actually taken care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay, Jenny. Thank you.”

“No worries, babe. Can’t have my star’s light dim, can I?”

•

Marcus pulled up to Lance’s studio with a stupid smile on his face. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go down, but he knew he needed to tell her he was in love with her. He’s not even sure when it started, only that hearing what she said and listening to Agnes made him realize what was in his own heart.

He pulled the door open to a quiet, well-lit room. The windows were large, so it lit everything in the most wonderful natural light. There was a massive landscape painting directly in front of him that was stunning. The mountain was towering over him like the real thing would, and the oranges of the autumn leaves were a beautiful contrast.

He heard footsteps behind him, but didn’t turn to face them. “You’re so talented, Lance.”

He looked around the studio, and his eyes landed on a portrait of himself. He couldn’t remember this ever being a picture that was taken. It was his profile, and he looked a little sad. He’d never cared for his nose, always thought it was too prominent and made him look like a bad guy, but she’d taken so much care in painting it. He could see the emotion in his painted eyes.

“When did you know you loved me?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever known, because I don’t actually know who you are.”

Marcus startled at the voice that was definitely not his best friend. He turned quickly to find a small Asian woman looking at him with bright amusement.

“Sorry, I, uh. Who are you?”

The woman laughed. “I’m her agent, Jenny. I sent your Lancelot home about an hour ago. She’d been here for three days straight with only dry granola in her system.”

“That sounds like her,” he sighed. He held his hand out. “Marcus, by the way.”

Jenny shook his hand and smiled. “Oh, I’m well aware.” She gestured to the portrait. “I wanted her to paint something personal. She’s been in her own head a lot recently, hasn’t tapped into the emotion she usually uses to paint. It’s in that one, though, don’t you think?”

Marcus looked over at it again. He’d never really considered himself a very handsome man, but he certainly felt it right now. The way she had captured his likeness… “For sure. She’s a brilliant artist.”

“And she loves you a great deal.”

Butterflies erupted in his stomach again. “It was nice to meet you, Jenny, but I have to go.”

She just smiled and waved him out the door. “Make sure she actually eats something.”

•

After you’d gotten home, you decided self care was actually in order. You washed your face and put one of those weird face masks on. You poured a glass of sweet red wine and sank down into a hot bath filled with a de-stress bath bomb Jenny had given you. You turned on your audiobook of Pride and Prejudice and settled in.

About an hour and a half later, the Bennets were talking to Mr. Collins about Rosings Park when you heard a noise in your kitchen. Assuming it was Jenny coming to check on you, you unplugged the bath and toweled off.

With your hair stuffed in a cotton t-shirt and your robe secured around your middle, you stepped out into the hall.

“Sorry for my meltdown over Marcus earlier, Jen. It’s been a particularly rough season in our friendship. And I think he knows, now, that I’m in love with him, because-”

You rounded the corner and stopped short.

“Well, if he didn’t, he does now,” Marcus joked.

You felt the dread settle on your lungs like smoke you’d inhaled. Your eyes closed. “Oh, god,” you whispered. “What’re you,” you swallowed hard and fought the bile rising in your chest from the amount of dread you felt. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were going to be in Dallas for another three days.”

You couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smile in Marcus’ voice. “They didn’t need me anymore. Got done early. I stopped to see your studio. Met Jenny. She said you hadn’t eaten anything, so I let myself in to make you dinner.”

You rubbed a hand over your face, and still hadn’t opened your eyes to look at him. “That’s nice of you, Marcus. Unnecessary, but nice, thank you.”

“When did you know?” he asked quietly.

“Know what?”

You could hear the smile in his voice again. “That you were in love with me?”

Your eyes snapped open and fell on a shit-eating grin. “There’s no need to be cruel. I will smack you across the face, Marcus, I’m not even kidding.”

He said your name and reached up, but you took a step back so he couldn’t touch you. His brows furrowed and his hand dropped. “It’s a serious question. Please indulge me?”

You shook your head and turned away, feeling the beginning of tears fill your eyes.

Marcus cleared his throat. You could hear the scraping of a wooden spoon in a pan. “The first time I realized that I am fully, truly and completely in love with you, I was standing in the office of the fbi’s special crimes unit in Dallas having a conversation with the man who took a woman I now know never actually loved me away.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“But I think what really got me thinking about it was knowing that my best friend has harbored feelings for me for, seemingly, a long time, and even though it must’ve broken her heart, she was always there when I needed her.”

You turned to face him again. He looked into your eyes and gave a small smile. “The truth is, I think I’ve been in love with you for a lot longer than I have even realized. You’re everyone’s comparison. Even Ashley, thinking back on it. You’ve always been it, Lance. It just took me a while to see it. I’m sorry.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding and brought the heels of your palms up to your eyes. “This isn’t some type of sick, joke, is it? I’ve never known you to be cruel, Marcus, so don’t start now. Please.”

He took a step closer and gingerly took your forearms in his hands. When you moved your hands away from your face, he dropped your arms and brought his hands up to your face to brush the tears away.

Marcus whispered your name and tenderly stroked your cheek. “Agnes was right. You are the love of my life. I’m so sorry it took me so long to figure that out, sweetheart.”

“You have to be serious about this, Marcus,” you whispered back. “You’re it for me, and if you decide you don’t actually want me, it’ll break me. I won’t recover, and neither will our friendship. So I have to know you’re sure.”

The slow smile he gave you was filled with reverence. “What do you want me to say so you’ll know that I’m serious?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. “I don’t know, Marcus.”

He let out a soft sigh. “How about this?” He took your hands in his and stepped closer. Marcus whispered your full name as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. “We’ll go at your pace, sweetheart. I know you’re skeptical that this is real for me, so we’ll go as slow as you need. I’ll wait for however long it takes for you to trust this. I trust you. I know you’ll keep my heart safe. And I’ll do my very best to reassure you that I’ll keep yours safe, too.”

Marcus tilted his head to leave a soft kiss on your forehead.

“So, my dear, sweet, wonderful, beautiful, lovely friend,” he pulled back to look in your eyes. “Can I take you on a date and get to know you?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but him asking to get to know you definitely wasn’t it. You chuckled. “Get to know me? Marcus, you’ve known me since I was three years old. What else is there for you to know?”

He grinned and glanced down at your lips. When he looked back up, he lifted his eyebrows, asking silent permission.

With your slight nod, he leaned closer. “There’s so much to learn, Lance. What makes you smile,” he tilted your chin up and kissed below your ear. You let out a soft whimper and he smiled. “What inspires you,” he kissed the underside of your jaw. “What makes you feel like the most important girl in the world,” he moved up to kiss the tip of your nose. “What makes you cry,” he kissed your forehead. “How I got lucky enough to have a woman as wonderful as you love me.”

Marcus paused long enough for you to open your eyes to look into the deep brown of his. “How to make your knees weak.” He brushed his thumb along your cheekbone and whispered, “How to kiss you properly.”

He looked back down at your lips and waited. You knew he wanted to give you the time to pull away if you weren’t ready to take that step. You had waited so long to kiss him, though. You had wanted it for so long that you were a little afraid that if you didn’t kiss him, you’d never have the chance again.

He glanced back at your eyes and smiled. Just as he moved to give you space, you closed that distance. Your lips met his with an almost desperate passion. You brought your hands up to cradle his face, and he moved his around your torso to pull you closer. He brushed his tongue against your bottom lip and you let him in.

The two of you stayed like that until the oven timer went off, startling you into separating. Marcus rested his forehead against yours again.

“Dinner’s ready,” he laughed.

You chuckled and let go of him to grab dishes, but he tightened his hold. “I love you,” he said, looking into your eyes. “I love you, and I will wait as long as you need me to. You already mean the world to me.”

Your breath caught in your throat again at his reuse of the words you said to what you thought was a sleeping Marcus two months ago. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek and turned back around to turn off the timer and pull whatever he made out of the oven.

“So is this what I can expect for my relationship with Marcus Pike?”

He looked at you with a small smirk on his face. “A relationship, huh? I thought I’d have to take you on a date, first.”

The heat in your face was immediate. You’ve loved him since you were seven, of course you wanted a relationship with him. But he was right, there was no need to rush this.

“Well, a date would be nice, I guess.”

Marcus’ smile softened. “I’m just teasing you, Lance. I plan on romancing the hell out of you for as long as you’ll let me.”

“You’re a loony.”

He set the baking dish on a hot pad and turned to mime drawing a sword. “The black knight always triumphs.”

You hummed and matched his smile. “The only time you ever let me be King Arthur was when he faced the black knight. Did you just like having me pretend to cut all of your limbs off?”

Marcus chuckled and a light blush spread across his cheeks. “It always made you laugh. So yeah, I guess.”

“That’s it, right there.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“That’s how I fell in love with you. Those little things. You gave up playing your favorite character just because you knew it would make me laugh.”

He blushed deeper and looked bashful.

“I’d follow you anywhere, Marcus.”

“You won’t have to. Because whatever happens, it’ll be together.”

Together.

You liked the sound of that.

•

Everything was planned out. The two of you had gone to Bob and Edith’s for breakfast pancakes in the morning, you’d gone to the Smithsonian to see the O’Keefe exhibit they’d just brought in, and then you decided you’d have a little fun with it and go to a wine and painting class together, completely ironically. You’d secretly flown both of your parents in, and his sisters decided they wanted to be there, so they came in, too. The wine and painting would be just the two of you, and then they’d all come in and be there for the big question itself.

What you weren’t ready for was the instructor to recognize you, and ask you to lead the staff and Marcus in a painting.

“Well, this is really just something fun for my boyfriend and I to do together, I’d rather-”

Marcus put his hand on your shoulder and drew your attention to him. “How often does an opportunity like this come around? It’ll be fun, Lance.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. Damn him for being able to talk you into anything. That’s how two dogs and a cat had found a home in your shared townhouse. “Okay.”

The instructor squealed and rushed to hug you. “Oh my god, this is going to be great! Can we do a mini version of that mountain in autumn one you did last year? Please?” Her please was drawn out long like she was a kid asking for ice cream.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I guess.”

“This is going to be amazing! Okay, I’ll set everything up, you don’t have to do a thing except walk us through your process.”

Marcus ran his hands down your arms. “I know it’s not ideal, but you’re giving them such a cool experience. How often do they get to have such a legitimately professional painter show them how they work?”

“That’s not- I mean, sure, but there was a plan, and it’s getting messed up, and-”

“Breathe, baby. It’s just a silly date night. We’ll have many more, my love.”

You glanced over his shoulder and saw your family silently filing into the shop. The panic you felt suddenly multiplied.

“Why are you so upset about plans changing? You’re usually okay with a bit more of a go with the flow date.”

The instructor came out from the back room and looked past the two of you. “Oh, I’m sorry, this is a private party.”

Marcus turned to look at who they were talking to.

“Mom? Dad? What are all of you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but...”

Your dad nodded for him to look behind him, and when he turned, you were already knelt down.

“I have loved you since I was seven years old when you climbed the tree at the park to get my teddy that Blake Jones had thrown up there down. I loved you while you loved someone else, twice,” you winked at him. He had tears gathering in his eyes. “I will love you for as long as I’m breathing, and I’m sure long after that, too. You already mean the world to me. And I figure it’s about time you’re the one getting romanced. So, Marcus Alexander Pike,” you opened the black velvet box to reveal a simple platinum band, “Will you marry me?”

He looked up at the ceiling and chuckled as a tear fell. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Your family and the staff cheered as he pulled you up from the floor. “I love you.”

You took his hand and slid the ring on his finger. “I love you, too, Marcus. With everything I have in me.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you, you knew your heart was full. That this man was everything you’d ever wanted, and you knew he wanted you right back.

TAGS: @seasonschange-butpeopledont @plexflexico @din-damn-djarin @dirty-dancefl00r5 @cinewhore @aplaceofpeace @just--a--snail @thecrystalgempearl @mrschiltoncat @campamcam @littlevodika @keeper0fthestars @greengrassandcyansea @uncomicalhumour @agentpike @yespolkadotkitty @chaotic-noceur

#marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years ago

Text

messages from last night update

chapter below the cut | ao3 link

✧ Oracle ✧

SEPT 1ST 4:57 AM

[Joker] Hi

[Joker] Story time

[✧ Oracle ✧] i see yusuke returned ur phone

[Joker] Aha, yeah. After swearing on my life I would not make any more poor life choices

[Joker] I assume that was your doing

[✧ Oracle ✧] ur welcome

[Joker] Hmm well I might not have sworn hard enough

[✧ Oracle ✧] ???

[Joker] bet you 500 yen you can’t guess where I woke up this morning (without hacking my location)

[✧ Oracle ✧] oh god akira… jail?

[✧ Oracle ✧] again??!

[Joker] No

[Joker] Better

[✧ Oracle ✧] !!?

[Joker] On the catwalk of the auditorium

[✧ Oracle ✧] BRUH

[✧ Oracle ✧] didnt yusuke like walk u home???

[Joker] He did

[Joker] I just didn’t stay home after

[✧ Oracle ✧] (-_-;)・・・

[✧ Oracle ✧] but don’t they lock up the buildings at night….

[Joker] ...

[✧ Oracle ✧] also i’m p sure catwalks are at least fifteen meters in the air??

[Joker] ...

[Joker] I am surprisingly still very dexterous while intoxicated

[✧ Oracle ✧] o m g

[✧ Oracle ✧] what possessed u to sneak out of the dorm, pick a lock, scale scaffolding, and fall asleep on a metal beam is / literally / beyond me

[Joker] Me too, It's all very...fuzzy after getting back to the dorms

[Joker] Maybe I was a cat in a past life

[✧ Oracle ✧] cat!kira

[✧ Oracle ✧] congrats u now have a fursona to add to your growing list of ‘sonas

[Joker] Cat!kira go prrr?

[✧ Oracle ✧] HAHAH a self-drag?

[✧ Oracle ✧] Someone truly is hungover and regretting his life choices

[Joker] Jokes aside, all that flexibility training I did in hs apparently paid off

[Joker] I have no new bruises or injuries that I am aware of so I made it up in one piece. Somehow.

[✧ Oracle ✧] wait hold up I thot all that “training” u’d say u were doing was just like horny akira code for “going to mess around with Sumi after school”

[✧ Oracle ✧] don’t tell me u actually were doing gymnastics with her that whole time

[Joker] Okay

[✧ Oracle ✧] ????

[Joker] You literally just told me not to tell you

[✧ Oracle ✧] but was i right?! i NEED to kno if i was right

[Joker] Haha yes and no

[Joker] We did both

[Joker] is typing...

[✧ Oracle ✧] oKAY OKAY OKAY NO DETAILS (SAVE THOSE FOR ANN)

[✧ Oracle ✧] JUST CONFIRMATION THANK U next

[Joker] You have written fanfic more explicit than anything I could ever tell you I’ve done, AND I PROOF READ IT FOR YOU

[✧ Oracle ✧] ヽ(•//д//•)ノ [ok true]

[✧ Oracle ✧] but

[✧ Oracle ✧] ヽ(•̀//д//•́)ノ

[Joker] Ik Ik, I’m teasing. I won’t corrupt your virginal ears

[✧ Oracle ✧] /anyway/ people r gonna be mad jealous when they find out u dated an olympic gymnast

[Joker] She wasn’t one when we dated though so technically I didn’t

[Joker] She found out she qualified shortly before we went back to being just friends

[Joker] I think we’re both much happier this way

[✧ Oracle ✧] Obviously. you still talk to her??

[Joker] Yeah

[Joker] We caught up before the semester started

[Joker] She said she was nervous, but that’s to be expected when you’re on the global stage. Aside from that she’s fitting in really well with her new teammates. She just wishes Kasumi could have been a part of it

[✧ Oracle ✧] </3

[Joker] Yeah :( </3

[Joker] But she’s good

[Joker] Still calls me senpai though...which idk how to feel about that

[✧ Oracle ✧] lol its ~cute~

[Joker] Hmm leaning towards don’t think so

[✧ Oracle ✧] “oh ~senpai~ you’ll still watch me compete in the olympics on TV right?”

[Joker] ...did you listen in on the call

[✧ Oracle ✧] no

[Joker] “no,” she lied like a liar (I know you still have my phone bugged damn it)

***

The Phantom Thieves of Cats

SEPT 1ST 5:01 AM

[✧ Oracle ✧] *kicks down the door to the thieves den*

[✧ Oracle ✧] INARI U FAILED

[✧ Oracle ✧] GUESS WHERE AKIRA IS

[✧ Oracle ✧] (hint: not where he’s supposed 2 be)

[Fox] Preposterous! He was safely returned to his dorm room. I personally put him to bed.

[Panther] you stayed over in their dorm room Fox… isn’t he in there w/you??

[Fox] is typing...

[Fox] Ah. It appears that I am in his bed and Akira is indeed missing. I was on the floor when we went to sleep. I have no recollection of this transfer.

[Fox] I have awoken Ryuji but all he has done is throw his possessions at me in an attempt to silence my “pestering” so I do not think he will be of any help in this situation.

[Joker] Don’t bother with him Fox. He isn’t responsive until at least 9am after a night out.

[Joker] Also, why aren’t the rest of you sleeping?

[Panther] Joker! you’re alive!!! are you okay???????

[Joker] Define okay

[✧ Oracle ✧] *cackles*

[Panther] where are you?!?

[Joker] You aren’t going to guess?

[Panther] jail?

[Fox] Please let it not be true your detective arrested you last night, and you are suffering in incarceration as we type.

[Joker] Why is jail everyone’s first guess? I was only arrested once!

[Joker] Fuck

[Joker] Also, he is not “my” detective

[Fox] is typing…

[✧ Oracle ✧] u sure about that

[Joker] Oh no

[✧ Oracle ✧] pls reread our messages from last night

[Joker] Oh GOD

[✧ Oracle ✧] *cackles louder*

[✧ Oracle ✧] i can’t wait to hear what inari is about to dish out

[Panther] wait what did akira say to you @ ✧ Oracle ✧?!

[Joker] Futaba please *softly* don’t

[Fox] Last night I had to relieve you of your phone before you texted the detective prince incriminating evidence of your state of inebriation and infatuation. You were adamant that you had to send him a picture of a cat as a token of your feelings, which I objected as the image you selected was not flattering of the cat. I may have just met you a few days ago, so please tell me if I am overstepping my bounds, but I do not think sending hideous pictures of cats is a wise way of winning over this man’s affections.

[✧ Oracle ✧] pls show us the picture he wanted to send

[Fox]

[Panther] Hahahah oh akira

[✧ Oracle ✧]

[Joker] …

[Joker] I’ll be staying at this undisclosed location until further notice

[Panther] no Akira!!! seriously where are you??

[Joker] the_view_is_nice.image

[Panther] :O

[Panther] how did you get up that high???

[✧ Oracle ✧] gymnastics training

[Panther] huh? i didn’t know you were a gymnast Akira!!

[✧ Oracle ✧] im sure he’ll tell u all about it now

[Joker] -____-

[Fox] I cannot believe I failed my first mission as the Chosen One.

[✧ Oracle ✧] i can

[Fox] is typing…

[Panther] @ ✧ Oracle ✧!!!!!!

[✧ Oracle ✧] kek

[Fox] I am an utter disgrace to this friendship. How can I even call this a friendship when I have done nothing but leech from the kindness you all have bestowed upon me. How will I ever be able to show my face among you, those whom I have failed. I must atone for the shame I have wrought.

[Joker] You didn’t fail @ Fox, and you are not a disgrace. It was my fault. I was the shitty friend in this situation. I’ll make it up to everyone, and to you Fox. I’ll think of something.

[Fox] Food would suffice.

[Joker] Dinner for a week it is.

[Fox] Delightful!

[Panther] wow he got over that fast

[✧ Oracle ✧] welcome to being friends with Inari, the path of forgiveness is through his stomach

***

✧ Oracle ✧

SEPT 1st 5:07 AM

[Joker] Slight problem

[Joker] I actually have no idea how to get down

[✧ Oracle ✧] u really r part f*cking cat

***

Regrettably, some of his life choices last night did him no favors.

Mistakes had been made. Limits and Lessons had been learned. Unfortunately the hard way.

After miraculously finding a way down off the catwalk without injury into his dorm shower and a fresh set of clothes, Akira managed to show up for his opening shift at Big Bang Blends ten minutes early.

Haru took one look at him when he slinked into the kitchen and immediately said, “Oh dear.”

Akira spun a damp curl around his finger. “That bad, huh?”

“Uhm.” Haru offered him a wobbling, pitiful smile. “You kind of look like how I would imagine a cat that got caught outside in the rain might feel.”

He let out a self-deprecating chuckle and wandered over to the apron rack. “Fair comparison.” Selecting his off its hook, he pulled it over his head. “I’d add on that the cat also got stuck in a tree and developed a splitting migraine.”

“I know just the thing that’ll sort you out!” Haru hovered over to Akira’s side. “Whenever I--�� she paused, considering her words with a finger to her lip, “overindulge,” she settled on with a giggle, “I’ll make myself a cup of my special tea. It instantly clears my head and calms my stomach.”

Akira’s stomach rolled unpleasantly. “ Special tea ?”

Haru nodded vigorously. “It works like a charm! And I’m not just saying that because I drink it, I have a friend--well, I might be overstepping if I were to call him that, we aren’t that close,” Haru sighed, “but I make it for him too when he occasionally stumbles in here in a similar state.”

“Do I want to know what’s in it?” he asked hesitantly.

Haru beamed brightly at him. “No.”

Akira groaned.

“I promise it’ll work,” Haru said, wandering out of the kitchen and over to her collection of loose leaf teas that were displayed in clear, sealed jars behind the counter. She called back to him, “You’ll perk up in no time!”

He gave her a weak thumbs up.

Picking up the task list from the side of the walk in freezer, he resigned himself to his fate of ingesting whatever the fuck concotion Haru was going to feed him. It couldn’t have been worse than what he drank last night. In all honesty, he would have been feeling way, way, worse if Yusuke hadn’t convinced him to drink so much water when they got back. Akira would like to think the fact he wasn’t curled up on the floor in the fetal position on the cafe floor was also thanks in part to the Amazake he had chosen to drink the night prior too. But the thought of the non-alcoholic sake made his stomach churn harder so he stopped that train of thought immediately, and focused on setting up the dining area. His head felt like it weighed five pounds heavier than it usually did, which made moving it a bit of a hassle, but he had the opening sheet to finish before the cafe opened and he’d damn himself if he didn’t deliver.

What his stomach did seem safe to think about was luck stats, and that maybe Futaba was onto something when she had made that off hand comment in their chat last night. Akira was incredibly lucky to have landed two bosses ( three if he counted Sojiro but the man was more like a father than he ever was a boss) who cared more about his well being as a person than as a source of cheap labor. Watching Haru make his tea as he flipped chairs down off the tables only amplified his guilt of showing up before her utterly and unmistakably hungover.

Being the sloppy friend did not sit well with Akira.

He swore to himself as he pushed in the last chair he took down that this was the first and last time he ever did anything as stupid and irresponsible as he did last night. Not to mention, his luck wouldn’t last if he kept this up. He’d make it up to everyone somehow, and Haru in particular now. He wouldn’t let his current state impact his work.

And once he stopped feeling like dogshit and could form a coherent argument, he was going to have a long, hard talk with whichever one of his personas decided it would be great fucking idea to drink so much, scale the interior of the theatre, and fall asleep on a steel beam no greater than sixty centimeters in width. Because honestly, what the fuck ?

Even In high school, his “peak stupidity” years, he hadn’t done anything as dumb as this.

Okay, well, that was a lie.

He had done a lot of stupid, often illegal things (see: petty theft, breaking and entering) in high school that to him, had been justified. He was quite gifted at stealing and knew his way around a lock with professional proficiency, and he had gotten away with it unscathed for a very long time.

Except for the whole getting arrested and put on probation thing , which ironically had been for a crime he didn’t actually commit.

“It’s ready!”

“Thanks, Haru.”

Akira swung by the to-go counter reaching for the mystery tea waiting for him and continued on.

After thirty minutes of sipping on whatever miracle cure Haru brewed as he checked off the morning set up tasks, it fucking kicked in. The mind fog and nausea disappeared almost entirely, settling his stomach enough that he was able to keep down some Advil and melon pan with Haru for breakfast. Akira could handle the headache until the medicine took over.

He just couldn’t move too fast or too sudden (Akira was still a little too off balance for that), or turn his neck sharply (thanks to what he had drunkenly decided to use as a pillow the night before). But he powered through it as he set about stocking the various coffee beans in their containers.

The last item on the task sheet they completed together. Prepping the food items for the pastry case with all of the baked goods Haru had made the night before. In addition to mochi, goma dango, and other pastries one would expect to enjoy with tea and coffee, there was always some kind of cake. Meticulously and lovingly decorated, sliced by hand that Haru showcased in her cake display. Today’s selection was a daring one, a pink lemonade cake with delicately applied ombre pink frosting and topped with candied lemon slices that were evenly spaced, each sitting on an artful dollop of whipped white icing.

“Did you want to try a piece, Akira-kun?”

Akira glanced over from where he was sliding a tray of nerikiri into the case. A plate with a modest slice was being extended to him. Eyeing the color up close, his stomach protested. Apparently still a little too hungover to test the limits of his digestive tract with such an extravagant confection.

“It looks amazing, but I think I’ll stick to the melon pan this time Haru.”

“I can always save it for la--”

A sharp series of knocks interrupted their conversation.

From his position squatting on the floor, he checked the time on his phone. There were still five minutes until the cafe officially opened for the day. Haru had warned him there were always a few people who showed up early and failed to read the sign.

“I’ll get it,” Akira sighed, sliding the door of the pastry case shut. “You finish with the cake. I’ll handle our impatient caffeine addict.”

“Oh don’t worry the cake’s all done, I just cut the last slice.” Haru waved Akira off. “I can get him.”

Him?

He hastily straightened up, brushing a few stray sugary crumbs off his apron and immediately looked over at the entrance. Every muscle in his body seized up. Waiting outside the glass doors was one impeccably dressed and restless looking Akechi Goro. Akechi rolled his shoulder, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag while he checked his phone.

The message Akira sent Akechi last night intrusively echoed in his head the moment the former detective looked up and locked eyes with him. Pocketing his phone into his suit jacket (it had to be custom fit, because there was no way it could have cut his figure that well without tailoring), he lifted his chin ever so slightly. Akechi’s expression twisted wickedly into something that short circuited Akira’s brain.

Oh.

Fuck .

A war waged between two primal instincts in Akira’s body at the sight, the overwhelming urge to run in the face of danger clashing with a tidal wave of lust. The rush coursed through his veins, freezing him in place. Much like prey that had been cornered, his heart began to thrash against his ribs.

Akechi’s grin was sharp and salacious, a stark contrast to the innocent and winsome smile that the T.V. ready Prince so often wore. Akira didn’t know him all that well (... yet ), but God , that smile just seemed to suit Akechi so much better.

Akira got to witness this side of Akechi knowing it was reserved for only him for about two whole seconds before Akechi’s face changed, shifting into his composed, manufactured doll-like mask when Haru made it over to let him in.

The transformation gave Akira something pretty close to whiplash.

Really arousing whiplash.

“Good morning Akechi-san,” she greeted him, holding the door open with a warm smile.

“And same to you, Okumura-san,” he returned politely, stepping past her and into the cafe proper. “Pardon my early arrival, I have quite the busy day planned unfortunately and was hoping to get a jump start.” He brushed aside a few strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes with a gloved hand. “I hope your morning has been going well.”

“It’s barely started,” Akira muttered, reaching for a to-go cup to start Akechi’s order to busy himself with so he wouldn’t stare at the breathtakingly handsome man in front of him. His heart needed a break already.

Instead of writing Akechi’s name, he doodled a pair of handcuffs with the bold letters A and G within the negative space in each cuff (Akira admired his work for a brief moment and thought Yusuke would be proud). He marked the drink as a caramel latte, recalling what Haru had put down on his cup yesterday. Then proceeded to make a pour over instead.

Haru flipped the sign to open, and then said, “Very well, so far! I tried out a new cake recipe, you have to try it.”

Akechi laughed, and Akira’s stomach clenched--but this time in an all too pleasant way. Akira diverted his attention from grinding the beans for his drink to watch the detective ( Fuck! ) The sound was light and lyrical, and after what Akira witnessed… sounded totally out of place coming out of the same mouth that had held that smug, voracious grin a moment ago.

“As much as I would love to, I must decline. I cannot get into the habit of having cake for breakfast.”

“Then you must take a slice with you!” Haru walked past him and over to her cake display, lifting the glass lid and taking a piece out.

“Alright, if you insist,” Akechi conceded, coming to a stop in front of Akira, who moved on to scooping the grounds into the damp filter. The proximity made it near impossible to keep his eyes off the detective, but Akira somehow managed it, forcing himself to pay attention to his pour.

“Actually, would you mind if I borrowed your barista for a moment, Okumura-san?”

Akira snapped his head up from his preparations and met Akechi’s eyes once more ( God damnit! ). Which was a really dumb idea as a shock of pain spiked down his neck. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from wincing.

A dangerous glint appeared in that maroon gaze that catapulted Akira’s thundering heart into his throat.

“Is he in trouble?” Haru peered over her shoulder from where she was packing a bright pink slice of cake into a to-go container.

“He might be,” Goro murmured just loud enough for Akira to hear, then broke their eye contact to address Haru, “I assure you, nothing of the sort.” He smiled that infuriatingly fake smile at her, complete with an innocent tilt of his head. “I just need to ask him a few questions, in private.”

Haru shot Akira a questioning stare, Do you need me to say no?

He shrugged nonchalantly, or as nonchalantly as someone who was having a very intense internal meltdown over an insanely attractive man could, and said, “It’s fine, Haru.” He continued to pour the scalding water in a circular motion over the coffee grounds in the filter, doing his best to quiet all the alarm bells in his head.

His response must have come off convincingly enough because Haru nodded and said, “Well, I can’t see why that would be a problem.” She hesitantly returned Akechi’s smile. “But I will need him back in a bit when the morning rush hits.”

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Akechi turned and gestured to a table in the corner of the cafe--far away enough from the counter that Haru couldn’t possibly overhear their conversation. Then under his breath he added, “As long as Kurusu-kun doesn’t resist, that is.”

Akira cleared his throat, willing his throbbing heart to drop back into its cage between his ribs. “Go on, I”ll join you when I’m finished.”

Akechi nodded, leaving the yen for his coffee on the counter and sauntered away. Akira topped off the pour over and transferred the liquid into the to-go cup. On his way around the counter he snagged what was left of his miracle tea and took a swig. He hoped it would replenish his mental reserves to handle the upcoming verbal sparring match he was sure he was about to walk into.

Akechi, in his immaculate glory, was leaning back in his chair languidly with one dark clad leg crossed. He watched Akira closely as he wandered over with their drinks. Akira suddenly felt incredibly out classed and underdressed in his usual cardigan-v neck combo he had going on compared to Akechi’s tan suit jacket and pressed button down shirt.

He slid into the seat opposite Akechi and pushed his coffee across the table. Akechi nodded in thanks and brought it to his lips.

Akira pretended he didn’t watch the way Akechi’s throat moved as he swallowed his first sip.

The detective hummed approvingly. “Black.”

“The way you actually like it,” Akira said with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Is it now,” Akechi chuckled darkly against the lid still pressed to his lips. “Sadly, my coffee preferences are the extent of where your knowledge of me ends.”

In the tenuous silence that descended after that statement, they sipped at their respective drinks. Gazes not once wavering off one another.

“I assume you know why I’m here,” Akechi finally said, cutting the tension.

“When I said ‘come get me ’ I didn’t mean ‘corner me at work ’,” Akira hissed over his cup of miracle tea.

He could think of many other, far more superior places he would have loved to be cornered by Akechi in. But Akira kept that part to himself.

The detective leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. “You do realize if this were a real investigation and I caught you as unaware as you were this morning, you being at work with your Boss present wouldn’t have deterred me.”

Akira stole a glance at Haru, who was busy writing the specials of the day on their blackboard, then drained the rest of his tea.

Akechi followed his gaze and continued on in a saccharine tone that contradicted the alluring smile his mouth had split into again, “But since it’s not, I highly doubt you want an audience for when I bend you over the counter and take what I want from you.”

Akira promptly choked.

Any lingering doubt Akira may have had about Akechi’s preferences evaporated. Akechi knew exactly what he was saying. He had to have, right? There was no heterosexual explanation for that response.

Point to Akechi, he thought, accepting the fact his face was probably as red as the flowering plant hovering three inches above his head.

“How considerate,” Akira managed to rasp once he got his tea to go down his throat correctly. Swallowing burned like a bitch. Now he had to deal with a sore throat on top of the rebellion being staged by his heart and stomach, and the leftover vertigo from his hangover.

“Will you hand it over now?” the detective asked with a hint of sugar coated venom.

“Hate to disappoint, but you’ll be walking away empty handed this morning. I left it in my room.”

Which wasn’t a lie. In his haste to recover from last night’s escapade and get to work on time, he hadn’t thought to grab the handkerchief. The last thing he expected was this.

“I think you’re sending me mixed signals.”.

“Am I?”

“You tell me you want one thing, then act like you didn’t expect it to come to fruition when I follow through on it so I’m curious,” Akechi titled his head and his hair shifted, shining ethereally in the early morning sun streaming through the window. “What is it you really want, Kurusu?”

For you to fuck my brains out, Akira thought. But admitting that so bluntly to Akechi’s face felt like defeat. So, he kept the stupid illusion of their game going and leaned in.

“I want to see if the Detective Prince is really as good at his job as the rumors say he is.” Akira mirrored the detective’s head tilt and offered him a crooked grin. “I won’t be that easy.”

“If you want me to physically remove it from your person, then I must insist from this point forward you carry it with you. If every time I corner you, you… aren’t ready,” Akechi’s smile grew wider, “then doesn’t that defeat the purpose? And unlike you it seems, my time and attention is limited.”

“Rude.” Akira mimicked the detective’s posture, dropping his chin into his palm. “My time is limited too. I just can’t have you stalking me at work. And--” what Akira really meant to say next was , I cannot possibly work and retain my sanity with you watching me like that all the time. But instead said, “--Think of Okumura-san’s business. You’ll scare away her customers.”

Akechi shot him an unimpressed look. “Somehow I highly doubt that.”

Wow. Cocky bastard.

"Well,” Akira said, changing tactics by imbuing a little bit of truth, “I imagine you can relate to not wanting to be distracted at work, with your fans and all.”

“They can be...rather inconvenient at times, yes.” Akechi studied him intently. “Alright then. Let’s make a deal.”

“Making a deal with the enemy? Akechi,” Akira feigned a gasp, “don’t tell me you’re a dirty cop.”

The detective snorted into his coffee. “I’m going to choose not to entertain that comment and suggest we establish some ground rules.”

“I thought rules didn’t exist in investigations,” Akira said mischievously.

“Like I previously stated, good thing this isn’t one, then?”

They shared a private smile.

“I propose this,” Akechi said, straightening up, hands clasped on the table. “From this point on, you will carry it on your person. I will catch you off guard within the next two weeks and take back what is rightfully mine. Our working hours are exempt from this. Obviously, the common spaces in the dormitory will be too by default. Should you ever need me as your RA, that will come first and foremost, I take my duties seriously. As should you. I think you’ll find these terms agreeable and respectful of each other’s time. Unless there are any other locations you want to deem off limits.”

Akira made a show of considering Akechi’s words, tapping a finger against his cheek. This was literally the most drawn out, intellectually charged foreplay Akira had ever engaged in but he couldn’t say it didn’t excite him. In fact, there was something exhilarating about it.

“No. Everywhere else is fair game.”

“Really?” Akechi inquired, grin breaching that rapacious territory again. “Be careful what you agree to, Kurusu.”

Akira shrugged and leaned back.

“So,” Akechi prompted, “you won’t say no, will you?”

Of course he was going to accept. So Akira simply said, “I think I’ll hold on to your handkerchief.” And then held out his hand. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Hah, excellent,” Akechi smiled and shook it firmly. The leather was soft and warm as it dragged against Akira’s palm. “Otherwise, I will be forced to order a room inspection and somehow I doubt that is how you want this to play out.”

“If you are inspecting the room while I’m in it, then I might be.”

Right after the words left his mouth, the logical part of his brain that wasn’t stuck on being hungover and horny on main finally spoke up and reminded him of the very important, expulsion worthy, major cockblock that was currently being housed in his room: Morgana.

But then Akechi’s mouth upturned devilishly, and suddenly Akira decided he’d cross that furry bridge when he got to it.

“Well, then. I must be off. Thank you for the coffee,” Akechi said, dropping Akira’s hand as he stood up. “I have an interview taping in…” he checked his phone and sighed, “just over an hour. Hopefully the trains are on schedule.”

Akira tilted his head. “Still doing those?”

“Yes, keeping up appearances on behalf of the precinct,” Akechi explained, “I may be officially on hiatus as a full time student, but I still pick up cases from time to time. The media wants to know how I balance it all.”

“Ah. Explains the get up.”

Akechi bristled at the comment, his nose wrinkling ( cute! ) and brows drawing down as he straightened his already perfectly straight tie. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“Nothing,” Akira teased with a lilt in voice, “It’s nice, maybe a little stuffy.” He deliberately looked Akechi up and down. “But I bet you’d look better out of it, judging by what I saw you wear the last time you showed up here.” He couldn’t fight the coy smile his mouth twisted into even if he tried. “If you’re looking to show off, those shorts from yesterday would do a better job.”

The call out was meant to fluster Akechi, but the detective’s face remained remarkably even toned. Flawless even. Too flawless.

Could he be... he's totally wearing makeup.

Akira lifted a brow pointedly.

That did the trick, earning Akira a heated glare before Akechi turned his head sharply away. The movement roughly shifted the hair around his face, revealing a sliver of skin previously hidden. To Akira’s rapidly dawning delight, the detective’s neck was rapidly turning pink.

“Shut. Up. Kurusu.”

Oh, so Akechi blushes all the way down when he’s flustered. Fascinating. Akira filed the thought away for… later.

For totally innocent purposes.

Totally.

Akira stood up and slipped in front of Akechi, demanding to be looked at. Giddy with his new discovery. “Oh? What’s this? He can dish it out but can’t take it?”

Akechi’s eyes flashed as he brought himself up to his full height, and stepped into Akira’s space. Scowling down the few centimeters he had on him, he forced Akira to take a step back. “You,” he said lowly, continuing to move forward, making Akira walk backwards until his back hit the counter, “are a brat .”

“Just figuring that out now, detective?” Akira smirked. “I thought that was obvious.”

From this close Akira could see just how gorgeous the detective’s eyes truly were. Flecks of light red dotted the center most part of his eyes, giving off the illusion of glittering in the light. He was close enough that if Akira leaned in a fraction more their noses would touch.

A very polite, soft cough came from somewhere on Akira's right.

The detective’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly put space between them again and turned to face Haru, who was standing in between the kitchen and the counter area looking anywhere but at them.

Akira owed her now a second apology.

“I wish both of you a good day,” Akechi gracefully recovered and turned on his heel. He flexed his shoulders as he opened the door but stopped with one foot out the door.

“Oh, and Kurusu-kun?” Akechi turned halfway to face him, “Be sure to check your email this afternoon.”

And then he was gone.

***

It’s Always Snack Time in Tokyo

SEPT 1ST 8:00 AM

[Takuto Maruki] Hello! I was going to wait until I saw you in person, but I can’t resist telling you the good news! I submitted the paperwork to bring on an official research assistant. The chair of the department should grant me an answer by the end of the week. The position is yours once I get the documented approval.

[Takuto Maruki] That is, if you are still interested in conducting research with me like you did over the summer

[Akira Kurusu] I am

[Takuto Maruki] Even more wonderful!

[Akira Kurusu] Won’t it be unethical if you don’t let other people apply for the position though?

[Akira Kurusu] You can’t play favoritism

[Takuto Maruki] I, fortunately, get to make the rules in this situation and I wrote that I could appoint the position to any student that met certain criteria and showed promise in the field

[Akira Kurusu] You literally wrote the position description so that only I fit that criteria, didn’t you

[Takuto Maruki] You would be correct! :D

[Takuto Maruki] So if you’re free and want to get a jump start on assisting, I was hoping to recruit you this upcoming Friday to proctor an exam.

[Akira Kurusu] An exam? The second week of class? Savage Sensei

[Takuto Maruki] It is a 300 level that meets M/W/F so the curriculum moves fast. This cohort in particular is grasping the concepts at a much faster rate than the other two I teach for this course.

[Akira Kurusu] When is it? I open the cafe Friday mornings

[Takuto Maruki] 2pm

[Akira Kurusu] Okay, I can make that work. I’ll be there

[Takuto Maruki] Wonderful! :)

***

The Phantom Thieves of Cats

SEPT 1st 11:12 AM

[Skull] yo i am not back readin any of that

[Skull] wat did i miss?

✧ Oracle ✧ Changed Skull to Edgelord Can’t Read

[Edgelord Can’t Read] I CAN EFFIN’ READ!!!

[Edgelord Can’t Read] i said i wasn’t gonna, not that i cant big difference

[Edgelord Can’t Read] ur the one who cant read

[✧ Oracle ✧] wow gr8 comeback edgelord im so offended. what r we 7yrs old

[Edgelord Can’t Read] shuddup

***

Gotta Go Fast

SEPT 1st 11:28 AM

[Skull] BRO A CATWALK?! WTF?!?

[Skull] how the eff did u get down??

[Joker] My amazing cat-like reflexes

[Skull] bro

[Skull] how u feelin btw

[Joker] You know that feeling you get when you’re about to go over the hill on a rollercoaster?

[Joker] Like that

[Skull] oof

[Skull] ill make u my ma’s soup when ur shifts over, its the best for this kinda shit

[Joker] Why is everyone being so understanding with me today

[Skull] were ur friends man we gotchu

[Joker] alsdjflskf

[Skull] uh did the rollercoaster drop or smth

[Joker] Haha no

[Joker] Thanks Ryuji

***

The Phantom Thieves of Cats

SEPT 1st 2:01 PM

[Edgelord Can’t Read] UH HOLY SHIT EVERYONE CHECK UR EMAILS

[Panther] what?? why??

[✧ Oracle ✧] im surprised u even read ur email

[Joker] Oh.

[Joker] Fuck.

***

To: Shujin Hall_5th Floor

From: Akechi Goro; Niijima Makoto

CC: Kawakami Sadayo

Subject: Violation of Dormitory Rules

Dear Fifth Floor Residents of Shujin Hall,

This is a friendly reminder that there is a strict No Pets Policy in this Residence Hall. A contraband item, a can of pet food, was located on the floor inside the trash room on Friday night. As such, we will be conducting room inspections beginning tomorrow, starting with rooms located in the Girls’ Wing. Let this be an example to all that the consequences for violating this rule will be termination of their dormitory agreement and the loss of their on campus housing status. Any additional charges will be determined by the Residence Hall Director, Kawakami Sadayo.

If you have any further information on this subject, please feel free to contact us.

We hope you have a wonderful rest of your weekend.

Sincerely,

Your Resident Assistants

Akechi Goro

University of Tokyo | Class of 20XX Criminal Justice / Psychology Major | Philosophy Minor [email protected]

Niijima Makoto

University of Tokyo | Class of 20XX Criminal Justice Major | Psychology & Law Minor [email protected]

#akeshu #shuake #akeshuake #goro akechi #persona 5 royal #persona 5 #akira kurusu #goro akechi x akira kurusu

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corpsentry · 4 years ago

Text

behind the taylor swift gundam was in fact another, smaller gundam: a brief inquiry into the events of june 2020

so back in june this year june and i got together and we made this motherfucker of a story with this motherfucker of a thread to keep track of it all. but you already know that! and i’ve already got one foot and three elbows in my grave, so i’ll spare you the long-winded stuff. you wanna know how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks? i’ll tell you how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks-

-by linking you guys to copies of my planning documents because i feel like those words speak louder than any words i can offer in the present day. these are long documents. but they are also historical artifacts. very interesting. very weird. very, uh, full of cussing. so anyway, here’s

BIG DADDY: THE ORIGINAL PLANNING DOCUMENT

for those, like me, who have no motivation left in life to do anything and rely on summaries from others to acquire new knowledge, it all started with a single line.

prince of a fallen kingdom atsumu tries to kill hinata but falls in love with him instead

june, april something, 2020

with that in mind i tested the concept out with a few paragraphs of text, which you can find at the bottom of the Big Daddy document in the graveyard segment, accidentally sold my soul to the image of hinata with epaulettes, and then worked backwards, structuring an entire plot around two images:

a) hinata getting the shit beat out of him, with snark b) hinata and atsumu dancing in an empty ballroom under the stars

if you want a betrayal, you have to have something worth losing. if you want to fall in love with someone you don’t know, you have to meet them. if you have to meet them, there has to be a reason for that meeting, and so somewhere in between atsumu became a sword instructor and hinata the prince with daddy issues. june and i used this method of glancing anxiously over your shoulder to see what you’d missed to fill out the blanks in the story, after which i tacked up a bunch of post-its, typed out the plot, consulted june, typed out the plot again, and then broke the characters down into a bunch of questions, like ‘what do they want?’ and ‘what do they have?’ and ‘what are they afraid of?’

with the plot more or less ironed out, i decided it was time to start writing, and then i decided that i was actually too scared to start writing after all, so instead i set a couple of timers using classroomtimers.com (15-20 minutes long) and i sat down and i wrote about the world that hinata and atsumu inhabited.

each warm-up was 300-500 words long, and for the first few days, i’d write one before getting into writing the story proper. later these evolved into simply picking a scene from the story and launching straight into it, which became useful for opening those scenes later when i got to them organically.

then i got lazy! so i stopped. but these shitty little exercises were really useful for me because, unfettered by plot, convention, or any kind of tradition hovering over my shoulder, i was able to fuck around loosely enough to realize what i wanted this story to be. it was a very contrived kind of trial-and-error, an exploration of the characters, the story, but most importantly, the tone.

RESEARCH, PLANNING, AND VICTORIAN BOUGIE FASHION

this is a loose map of the castle and Important Locations within it, which i drew up at the start so i could keep track of where everything was and how i could get my characters from point A to point B. i wanted the story to have Some kind of internal logic, you know, even if that logic amounted to ‘a compass would function normally in this world whereas kageyama tobio would not’.

99% of my planning and organizing within those five weeks took place in this lovely dotted cat journal which my sister gave me for my birthday and i repurposed into a metaphorical Diary of Suffering while working on juno. i used it for everything from keeping track of narrative threads to clothing consistency checks, but the main purpose was this: each day at about 10 pm i’d crack open the cat book to a fresh page, stamp the date and the day of suffering at the top, and then write down a list of things i wanted to write, address, or fix today. then i’d sit at my laptop and write like a madman until about 7 in the morning. with breaks, of course, for sitting in the bathroom and staring at the wall and sitting in the kitchen and staring at the wall, but mostly i was writing. and complaining about writing. you were there, you probably remember that.

anyway, here are some pages from the cat book.

aside from the fact that my handwriting is complete shit, you can see that i made zero effort for any of this to be presentable. it was mainly a way for me to keep track of my thoughts because i have the attention span of an ikea wardrobe and tend to forget things as soon as i think of them. the lack of structure also mirrored the way that i went about writing juno. while i did proceed, for the most part, in chronological order, i had a lot of weird and useless revelations during lunch, which by this point was happening around 2 am, and in the 5 minutes before the exhaustion finally hit and carried me down to hell. i changed A Lot. again, to understand exactly how much the story evolved from day one onwards, please consult the big daddy document.

in the meantime, here’s something else.

once june sent over hinata and atsumu’s character designs i sat down like the fucking fool i am and spent 2 hours poring over a document about victorian and other fashion movements of the past so i could assign a noun, adjective, and verb to each element of their outfits. i don’t know why i did this. i certainly could have not, but i attempted to make sense of their ‘fits from a logistical perspective and that went into the cat book too. everything went into the cat book. the cat book is a relic of the past now, stuffed with artifacts such as the birth of oikawa tooru, and also his demise.

MEDIUM DADDY: EDITING, PROOFREADING, AND CREEPY MURDER CATS

i finished writing on june 26th, 2020, approximately a month after i’d first started planning, somewhere around may 27th or 28th. at that point i had about 90,000 words’ worth of story and no sanity left whatsoever, so i took a day-long break to stare at a wall and listen to taylor swift��s enchanted on loop.

and then i made a new document, which you can look at using the link above, and i laid out everything i had to do. i’d discovered a fuck ton of plot inconsistencies and general errors while writing and lying awake in bed at 9 a.m., sleepless in seattle, and now that i was free of the demon egging me towards the first finish line, it was time to Deal with them. i speed-scrolled through the draft, which was 200+ pages compressed into one google doc, because i like to tempt god’s wrath, and fixed up all the plot issues over the course of a few days. this was the fun part.

the actual, hard editing was the extremely un-fun part. i reread the entire thing, paragraph by paragraph, line by damn line, from start to finish, paying especially close attention to awkward phrasing, incomplete dialogue, and moments which had fallen flat in my haste to get on to the next one. this was really fucking terrible. i spent more time lying facedown on the floor than actually editing anything, but after a long time (about a week), that, too was done.

SMALL DADDY: TITLES, SUMMARIES, AND GOOD FUCKING BYES

i spent a good eighty days thinking about the title, though hilariously enough we ended up with something that was a blend of our names. june + elmo = juno, which is, all things considered, pretty perfect, but the process of picking the title was Hell, and i Did Not Come Up With The Title until about 2 hours before posting. you can take a look at the haphazard clusterfuck of my title-selecting process in small daddy, which is linked above.

so the title was a last-minute choice. so was the summary. and the chapter divisions. and actually all the songs in the playlist for juno. the day we dropped juno onto planet earth like a newborn baby pitched out of the sky, i spent an hour hunched over my laptop, cutting my 213 page google doc into chapters based on nothing more than a Vibe. two days before that, i also attempted to voice-act the entirety of juno, an affair which ended at the 20,000 word mark with a sore throat and the kind of exhaustion one typically wants to sleep in a coffin for 23 years to get rid of. so in all honesty, i did very little editing, which is why there are definitely minor typos and/or mistakes hanging out somewhere on that chunky ao3 webpage. but whatever.

my attitude by july 5th (was it july 5th? or 4th? somewhere around there) was basically whatever. anything so i could get finish this damn thing, chuck it out of the window, and never see another google doc until the next century. i’ve been asked a few times how exactly i wrote at a rate of roughly 2000-3000 words per day for four weeks straight, and my answer has always been this: i died. what died, you ask? my soul. my spirit. my Will To Live. i’m a creature of fixations, and juno was my fixation for june. will i ever be able to do this again? would i recommend this experience to anyone? is god real? the answer to all of the above is probably no. juno was a fever dream, and so is my cat book. and so are all the lattes i had. and so was my 9 am to 4 pm sleep schedule.

but what we made is real. the research, oikawa tooru, the 4 am conversations in which i was like ‘how the fuck do i end this’ and june was like ‘jade proposal’ (the proposal was her idea. all rise for twitter user atsuhinas. she is the mastermind behind all of the Inch Resting moments in this story; i just flapped a korok leaf in her direction and made sure the air circulation was working properly) are real as fuck, and looking back, there’s a lot i’d change, but i’m lazy. and college is starting. and anyway, i did write 93,035 words in just under five weeks, four if you don’t count the week of Editing Hell, so i think that’s pretty cool.

thank you for reading this to the end, and for following us on our journey through the enigmatic taylor swift gundam fic which quite literally consumed my entire twitter account for the five weeks i spent working on it. retrospectively speaking i really was butt-obsessed so i am frankly incredibly impressed with everyone around me for putting up with a Husk of a Man for a month. thank you for doing that. thank you for indulging my vague tweeting, and our butterfly dns, and for reading 93 thousand words of gay fanfiction set in a high fantasy world with epaulettes and galettes. on behalf of june, once again, we are incredibly grateful for all your support.

if you have any questions about specific aspects of the writing process, or anything you’d like to know in general with reference to JUNO, feel free to drop me an ask through my tumblr inbox, or through my curiouscat over here. i’m aware i didn’t cover everything, but there’s frankly too much to put in a tumblr post without passing away somewhere around the 56% mark, so let me know what’s on your mind, and i’ll try to answer that to the best of my abilities. but anyway, before i go, here are some

TAKEAWAYS

one: don’t try to write 93,000 words in five weeks. seriously don’t fucking do it you will end up jittery and sleep-deprived and you will leave all your friends on read for a month. pace yourself. set realistic goals. you wrote 2k this week? that’s fantastic. you wrote 4k in a day? you absolute motherfucker. i hope you’re taking a long fucking break tomorrow. your story will not run away from you, but if you run too fast, you will get tired, and then you will pass away.

two: you don’t have to know everything about your story before you start writing. in fact if you have a single camera shot of two characters holding hands under a rose garden awning, i think that’s fucking wonderful. if you look at big daddy, you’ll realize that my initial plot draft, and all the ones following that, are not perfectly aligned with the final version of juno. i improvised over half of the scenes in this motherfucker, and to be completely honest, some of the improvised scenes were the best. fucking oikawa tooru was improvised out of nowhere. he only got written in way later, around chapter 8 or something, because i realized i needed a plot device and a source of information to keep the playing table from toppling over. i Sat Down one day and was like ‘okay, it’s time to write oikawa into the introduction. because he matters now. he didn’t matter last week but now he does, and soon he’s going to be the fulcrum of the entire story, because it’s like that with oikawa tooru’. it’s okay to change your mind halfway. it’s okay to go back and rewrite entire scenes or segments. it’s okay to highlight 4 pages of fresh, sentimental writing, and hit delete. writing is a fluid process, and you Will make discoveries as you progress through your story alongside your characters. be understanding of that iterative process. be kind to yourself.

three: You Are That Motherfucker. you, me, your dog, your dog’s friend, your dog’s enemy, all of us are that motherfucker. i never thought i’d be able to write anything longer than the great big map, which was a much simpler, linear story in which the other main character did not appear in the current timeline until like the eighth chapter. juno was different. juno was the motherfucker, and i was scared shitless of it, and to cope with that fear joked constantly while writing that it’d never see the light of day.

but it did. it was a rocky process, and i was awake for 48 hours after posting it because of the sheer adrenalin stuck in my skull, but i got through it. and i wouldn’t have been able to do it without june, who stepped in when i flopped over facedown on the floor and dragged me to my feet like the badass friend she is, and without everyone else in my life, who put up with me talking about The Thing that i couldn’t really talk about, but juno’s up there now. forever, or until the internet collapses and civilization goes extinct. and if the nineteen year old clown with the attention span of an ikea armchair and an a level certificate from hell wrote the 93,000 word long thing, so can you. i mean this completely unironically and with every ounce of genuine emotion i can summon from the cracked asshole of my heart.

writing is hard. writing is scary. writing is an investigation of the world around you and therefore, by extension, yourself, and that kind of honesty is freaky. it’s like going skinny-dipping next to the president’s mansion. who’s going to see you? what if they take a photo? what if you lose your spot at university?

but don’t think about that. our world is overrun with stories the way cereal bowls are full of cereal, but it’s those stories that keep us all sane in the disgusting day-to-day muck of reality, so think about your story. what’s haunting you today? what message do you want to leave printed in font size 666 comic sans across the southern hemisphere of the planet? what will you be tomorrow?

a writer. you’re going to be a motherfucking writer.

#my stuff

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shaydeoffical · 5 years ago

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Bright as a Diamond. Hitoshi Shinsou x Fem Reader: Chapter Two

Summary: When (Y/N)’s co-worker decided to send a picture of her making a diamond to the paper, her life was over. Gemstone based quirks weren’t all that rare, but being able to make a diamond put a target on her back. After years of hiding in the city, it’s time to hide in the countryside with her Uncle Shota Aizawa and his more than ‘roommate’ Hizashi Yamada. With the promise of training her to be self-sufficient, she’s ready to learn.

Edit: Deadass left the “chapter one” in the title for like a week when this is chap two, oops. Also, I had a read more and that didn't work. Sorry Family <3 Also I realized my flashbacks are not in ilatics, but I think you can infer as you read. I’ll try to fix that for next time.

Chapter One: https://ambershaydeoffical.tumblr.com/post/190764312269/bright-as-a-diamond-chapter-one-hitoshi-shinsou-x

Chapter Three:

https://ambershaydeoffical.tumblr.com/post/611141904327983104/bright-as-a-diamond-hitoshi-shinsou-x-fem-reader

Chapter Two

Before You Can Walk

Uncle Shota had sent off my furniture choices to the store, and now I was to get ready in the outfit he had provided for me. It was in a black case with an intricate white swirl on the top. To most people, I looked like a confident and polished young woman, on her way to the top. In truth, my mother dressed me every morning, and I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror for longer than a few seconds to check my hair.

My body wasn’t exactly typical, with my weight sitting in the places I hated the most…well, I hated it all. Maybe my thighs were okay, and my ass was great, but my breasts were nearly untamable.

Inside the case was a camo tracksuit, a white tee, and a pair of tight bike shorts that went under the pants or were interchangeable for summer months. The shoes were red sneakers that went up to my ankle. The red contrasted the camo, but I suppose it was a safety thing, so I didn’t pass out and just blended in.

Luckily for me, the outfit was made of a poly-cotton blend, and it was stretchy. The shirt clung tighter to my chest then I wanted, but the short sleeve jacket was loose, and the pants fit just right. I pulled the top part of my hair back and made a ponytail. Half up and half down hair was my daily go too, so it didn’t make sense to change that for training.

When I exited the bathroom, Shota was nowhere to be found. “Hizashi, where is Shota?” I found the blonde pouring over his music player, geeking out.

“Oh, he said you had to make it to the road without being caught.” Hizashi paused his music and chuckled. “I know his methods are weird, but he’ll make you’re a master of self-defense.”

“I’m supposed to run through the forest and get to the road. Without being caught?” I frowned, looking out the door. “How long has he been gone?”

“Not too long. Look at it like capture the flag, and have some fun.” He handed me a water bottle. “You better get going before he gets bored.”

“Okay, um, thanks.” I tuck the water into my pocket and start to walk outside.

I wasn’t really the running type. Even when bad things had come my way, I was more of a hider. Still, Shota knew what he was doing, I had to trust his judgment. Training took two people trusting the other not to go too far.

Slowly jogging, I made it to the tree line and focused on a steady rhythm of breathing. The natural debris from autumn was causing some issues. I kept curling my ankle on walnuts and kicking limbs up and cutting the opposite ankle. Part of getting stronger was getting hurt. I knew that still, it wasn’t pleasant.

Keeping my eyes peeled, I knew I could be jumped at any moment. Anxiety chewed through my muscles as I ran faster with longer strides. Of course, I wanted to pass my first test, but I really didn’t want to be at the business end of Shota’s capture weapon.

A few minutes in, I stumbled forward, landing on my knees. Not taking a moment to rest, I kept going, pushing harder. I just had to get going.

Parched lips. Unable to keep my head up. The constant hum of the motor.

Stopping suddenly, I grasped my water and downed half the bottle. Hiding between two trees, I glanced around and took in my surroundings. Something rustled in the distance, and I put the bottle back in my pocket. I saw Shota running through the trees, and I stayed quiet until he was out of sight.

Now that he was ahead of me, I took a moment and breathed. Closing my eyes, I contently leaned on the tree and steadied my body. The aches were starting to set in, and I contemplated laying down and just taking a short break.

Something grasped my love handles. Yelping, I got out of the grip and turned. No one was there. Again I was clutched; this time, I could see the hands holding my midsection and pulling me down. I broke free and swiveled to catch a glimpse of the person responsible.

“Cut it out!” I demanded, wrapping my hands around my stomach, and spinning around in circles. “Shota, this isn’t cool. I don’t like being-“I screamed again, this time there was a long pull on my jacket, bringing me to the earth. “Stop it.” I shivered.

Shivering. So cold and sterile. My blood was freezing into ice cubes. I try to pass them off as the real deal.

Curling into my knees, I grabbed my hair and took even breaths. Someone hovered over top of me, it wasn’t Shota’s shoes. My heart racing, this wasn’t a game. Grabbing my water bottle. I chucked it at the person and ran. Not like I had before but with real purpose this time.

The chase was on footsteps right behind me. I didn’t have a reason to look back, so I kept going. “Uncle Sho!” I cried for help, reaching a small hill, I skidded down the slope and kept going. “UNCLE SHO HELP!” Even louder then before, I couldn’t breathe and scream at the same time. Pumping my legs faster, I saw the road in the distance. Then a tight rope coiled around my waist. I screamed.

Airborne in an instant, I was dangling from a tree. Kicking my legs to stop the spinning. It was no use. My hands were bound with my hips, and I was useless. Like always.

“I thought you’d be better than that.” A boy a little older than me was holding the other end of the scarf. He didn’t look it, but he must have been keen to hoist me into the air so nonchalantly. Obviously, he was arrogant and a prick. Who could do this to someone and not get the ‘screaming for help’ as a sign to stop?

“Did Shota put you up to this or do you like to toy with girls in the forest,” I spat, seeing stars the faster I twirled around.

“I don’t know.” He let go of the scarf and caught it just before I hit the ground.

“Oh, my God.” I got my feet under me and stood. “That was sadistic. What the hell is wrong with you?” I wobbled but turned to face the ass. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I see you met Hitoshi Shinsouu.” Shota appeared from the road, lazily yawing. “Shinsouu is my protegee; I asked him to help with today’s exercise.”

“Did you instruct him to kill me?” I barked, only to be lifted off my feet and sent spinning. “Stop! What’s wrong with you?”

“You look like a pinata,” Shinsouu stated, keeping me from touching the ground. With each spin, I could see his smirk…what a-ugh.

“That’s enough, Shinsou; she’s learned her lesson.” Shota leaned down to my level, now that I was resting on my knees. “What do you think that was about?”

“Just because someone’s your protégée doesn’t give them the right to scare me.” I offered meekly, sending a glare at the purple-haired boy, who seemed uncaring at this point.

“No. He did as I instructed.” Shota sighed, untangling me from the scarf. “Just because you know there is one villain, doesn’t mean there aren’t more. Never let your guard down, and certainly never just sit there as it’s happening.”

“I thought it was you at first,” I argued, fighting against the ropes.

“Even me. In these simulations, we need to treat it like the real thing.” He plucked a leaf from my hair and helped me up. “Now, let’s get ready for the run back.”

“Wait, we’re going again?” I screeched, rubbing my sore sides.

“You got a three-minute head start. Go.” I didn’t waste a second more, taking off past Shinsouu, sending him a glare.

It went on like that for hours. It mostly ended with Shinsouu hanging me up by my ankles, waist, or once by my knees. He also pinned me in a tackle a few times, going as far as to snicker. After a while, I knew that Shota had stopped chasing me, and just enjoyed the show. Time after time of me trying to make it back to the road or the house and falling just short. My best attempt was when I hid close to the starting point and walked behind them and hid when they turned around. It was foiled when I saw a mouse and screamed.

No longer running, I shuffled my feet towards the house. Dragging my ankles, I reached the small hill that had become the bane of my existence, and I tripped over my own feet. Unable to catch my balance, I fell. My body crashing down the slope, banging with each bump.

Shinsouu crashed his body with mine, slowing the speed but getting himself into my tumble. Not knowing what to do with his stupid strong arms, he wrapped them around me, probably to cop a feel.

“You alright?” He asked when we stopped, pressing my head to his chest. He probably got off to being squished being under me like that.

“Fine, you caught me again. Don’t rub it in.” I sniffled, frustrated with my progress. I couldn’t keep upright, and now everything hurt.

“That’s enough for today,” Shota jumped down from a limb and helped Shinsouu up than me. I stumbled into his arms and cried tears of relief.

“Really?” I rubbed my tears into his black shirt.

“Now, you just need to run back home, we won’t chase you this time.” Shota chuckled, and I pulled away from him in disbelief.

“You’re sadistic too, no wonder you both get along.” I crossed my arms over my bruised chest. My mother’s image flashed through my mind, and I sighed. “Fine, if I’m going to run home, I should get one more chance to outrun you two.” I squared my shoulders and took off.

Instead of heading straight, I zig-zagged through the trees, running at an angle. I had my second and third winds hours earlier, but I managed to keep myself going at a decent speed.

After running this drill so many times, I knew what was more successful. Once they caught sight of me, it was over. So I just needed to stay hidden and keep a low profile. The forest was denser the way I was running now, and I could take more small breaks. A few more meters and I would be in the back garden, safe and sound.

“(y/n),” Hizashi was yelling for me. “You win, come home.” It was off. The voice was in the opposite direction of the house.

I knew that Present Mic had a booming voice, but why was he using it now. The sun was starting to set, and I had skipped lunch, so my tummy was rumbling…maybe he cooked- “It’s a trick, I know it.” I settled it in my mind and kept running.

A few minutes passed, and I wasn’t in the back garden. Hizashi had been calling me for a while, but I could no longer hear him. Maybe I was stupid… perhaps I was lost.

“What to do when lost?” I plopped down and tugged my lower lip. “Sit still. Check. Start a fire?” There wasn’t much sun left, but I gathered a few twigs and focused on my quirk. Making diamonds had got me into trouble, but it was the coals I needed right now.

Making several fiery coals, I sat them in my fire pit and encouraged the flames to grow by fanning them. Now I had a few diamonds floating my pocket and a warm fire to fend off the autumn chill. I would have killed to still have a little water with me, but I had to toss it at Shinsouu earlier. He deserved it.

“There you are,” Shota sighed, pointing a flashing light on my campsite after a few minutes of smoke being in the air. “Great work with the fire. That was smart thinking.” He complimented me, patting my head.

“Where is Shinsouu and Hizashi?” I asked, putting out the fire.

“They’re probably headed home now.” He started walking off, and I followed behind him.

“Sorry, I did so bad today,” I remembered how lackluster my performance was.

He stopped before going again. “You did better then I thought you would. I can tell you relay more on your fight response then flight. We can use that to our advantage; today was useful.”

“Did you have to bring Shinsouu in? He’s so so rude. I hate to be so brash about your friend, but he was also so rough.”

“I thought you two would hit it off.” He held a thorn-covered branch back so I could pass. “He’ll be useful in your training, and vise versa. Can you manage to get along for me?”

“I won’t like it, but I can tolerate anything for you, Uncle Sho.” I sounded like a brat but was too tired to care.

“Let’s get home.”

#shinsou hitoshi #erasermic #shinsou x reader #hitoshi x reader #bright as a diamond #ambershaydeoffical #bnha #mha #my hero #my hero academia #reader #dad aizawa #bnha x reader

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peggysousfan · 5 years ago

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Agent Carter An Au Series

Chapter 8 is done! A little bit of a recap in the beginning, but You’ll see where its going ;) Enjoy!

Peggy's POV:

I jerk awake from my dreamless sleep and glance at the clock. Its only been an 30 minutes? Ugh.. I stand up and make some tea, but while the kettle boils, I vomit again. When the tea is done I drink it, but my stomach still hasn't settled. I make some more toast and try that, and still I'm ill. Maybe a bath would do. I take off my dress and lay in the hot, steaming water, heaving a sigh as my body relaxes. This feels nice... I look down at my belly and frown, its bruised to hell. The colours look like petrol in a bloody puddle. Oh little one, why must you do this to mummy? Within another half hour, I get out; not wanting to sleep in a bath when no one is around.

When I'm dressed I head to the kitchen to try some more tea, but room starts to spin. Oh, not again! And then, another kick, much harder than others before. Please make it stop! I reach for the table and hunch over, the cloth falls off, dropping everything on it. The teacup breaks, the toast falls away to the floor, and the kettle spills. Before I know it, Daniel is by my side. Wait, Daniel? He tries soothing me and asking if I'm alright, but I'm not. I'm not alright, I'm not fine. I feel as if I'm dying and I don't know what to do! I take my anger out on him, but soon notice my mistake, and then apologize.

My body starts to shake and feel as if the walls are closing in. I can't hold it in any longer. I sit on the bed, like Daniel asks, but it doesn't help. He asks about my intake of the day, and its not much. He takes my hand and it grounds me. I feel as if my body is being invaded by a swarm of emotions and pain and theres nothing I can do. What if this is caused by the baby? Or worse, its something else and its affecting her and me in turn. Will she be alright? Is she alive? Wha- no,No,NO! Oh God why!?! I cover my face and sob, but Daniel tries to help. We stand and he embraces me, and suddenly, I don't feel so overwhelmed. I don't know how long we stand there, but I hold him tight, hoping he doesn't disappear. Hoping that he is real. He holds me close, or as close as he can with my large belly in the way, and holds tight. Minutes after I finish crying, he still holds on, and so do I. I feel so safe and this, whatever this is, feels so right. I don't want this moment to end.

"Hey..."Daniel says softly. He must have felt my body relaxing. I pull away, slightly, and he holds my face in his hands. "Its gonna be okay." I nod and embrace him again. At first hes surprised, then he too relaxes. He rubs circles on my back and it feels incredible. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. "So, what happened? Your roommate said you were sick. What are your symptoms?" I can't help but give a small, dry, chuckle.

"I don't know Dr. Sousa." At this he laughs, a full body laugh. All too soon he pulls away, letting go of me...

"I'm serious, Peggy. Whats going on?" I take a deep breath and let it all out.

"I don't know, Daniel. I.." He takes my hand and squeezes them. One look is all it takes, and I can breath steady again. "I woke up this morning feeling terrible and I got sick. Colleen made me breakfast and tea, but it didn't help, so I tried to sleep it off." He gestures towards the bed, and I sit down, and soon after he sits next to me. Not too close, but thankfully not too far away. "When I woke up, I was still ill so I made some more tea and set it down on the table. But I got sick again." He takes my hand once more, and I continue. "I took a bath, which helped, or so I thought... I uhm, got dizzy and got a large kick. I lost my balance and..." I gesture to the mess on the floor.. "I still feel horrible, Daniel. I don't know what happened or what to think."

"What kind of tea was it?"

"Uhm...Rosemary I think..? I'm not sure."

"Well it makes sense why the tea wasn't helping." I look at him, puzzled.

"Rosemary, taken on large doses, can be bad for pregnant woman, and its not good for the baby." My eyes enlarge and my mouth drops, now I'm starting to panic again. "Hey hey hey.. Its okay. I'm sure shes fine, Its just, thats why it wasn't helping. Thats why you were worse and not better. You didn't have a lot did you?"

"No, I uh.. Only had a little... Normally I drink a peppermint blend or ginger root. Colleen said thats what her sister in law used to help with nausea."

"Yeah, well...shes not wrong." Since Daniel is holding my right hand, I take my left and rub my face, God I'm a mess..."But there are other plants and herbs of tea that could help."

"Like what?"

"Well.. Ginger root and peppermint are a start. Theres also-" Before he finishes his sentence, he stops. It looks as if hes had a bright idea. "Wait here." Before I knew it, he was gone. Odd...When he returns he has a small box in his hand.

"Daniel.. What is that?"

"This" He says excitedly, "will help you feel better."

"Wh-.. how? What is it?" Instead of answering me, he takes the kettle, rinses it out, and boils some water. I know if I stand I'll only loose my balance, but I feel as if I should be doing something. He leaves and returns again, but with a bag. I think of food. "Daniel? What are you doing?" Still, he doesn't answer me. He brings out berries, greens and cooks some eggs. What in the blazes is he doing? "Daniel?" The water hisses and he takes a small bag out of the box. What on earth..? He pours some of the content from the bag into the kettle and pours whatever it is into a new teacup.

"Here, drink this."

"I-I don't understand..."

"Just try it. Please?"His face has a small pout to it as he says please. Why is this man so charming and adorable at the same time? I take a sip and taste raspberries."Do you like it?"

"Mmm, I do actually. Raspberry tea?"

"Almost. Its Red Rasperry leaf tea. It has a bunch of vitamins and health benefits. It helps pregnant woman who are sick; those with nausea , vomiting, cramping, ... and it even helps with labor."

"Ho- How do you know all of this?"

"I have two sisters with 2 kids each... " Oh how could I forget that. We both laugh and I drink more of the tea. Daniel walks away and comes back with a plate of eggs and fresh berries and greens.

"What is all of this, Daniel? You didn't have to do this."

"Yes I did. You need to eat, Peggy. This should give you some strength and the tea should help keep your stomach settled. What did I do to deserve to have this man in my time of need?

"I.. I don't know what to say..." I shake my head in amazement and look into his eyes. Everything feels at peace, and I couldn't be more thankful.

"You don't have to say anything, just eat and drink. It'll help." I look down at my food and then at Daniel. Before I know what I'm doing I lean in and kiss his cheek. Oh no.. He looks at me, shocked, and I'm quite sure I look the same way, except I try to shake it off.

"Thank you, Daniel. I don't know what I'd do with out you." For a moment hes still in shock, but soon he recovers, shakes his head, and smiles brightly. I could get lost in his smile and be content to never look back... Thank you God, thank you for this wonderful man. I hope he stays...

#peggysous #peggy carter #daniel sousa #Peggy x Daniel #agent carter #agent carter series #au fanfic #fanfiction

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pokemon-channel · 6 years ago

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☆—Spread the Love! | Valentines Mix-up

DJ Ben stretches out in his chair, yawning silently to himself. The Delibirds flew out just a few hours prior, and he feels nothing but utmost confidence in them. He’d never bring it up to Mary, but he still can’t believe how the messages managed to get mixed up for three years running. He’s determined to make this Valentine’s Day go as smoothly as possible. Delibird are known for their innate delivery skills. How could anything go wrong?

Ben’s going to show Mary that letting him take the reigns of this event wasn’t a mistake. Everything was going to go right this year! He has a good feeling about these Delibird as they return, one-by-one, to the Radio Tower. Passing around nicely-decorated Pokepuffs to each obedient Delibird as reward, DJ Ben can’t help but feel all too pleased with himself about the event.

Such a shame he mixed the Delibirds up on their way out.

What DJ Ben brings to you, under the cut, is a tragic tale of woe. Each Valentine has been preserved in its original state. None of the people who actually received each Valentine were the intended recipients.

To further add to the confusion, each Valentine was randomized three separate times along with their sender counterparts. Thanks to the based RNG gods, some people received quite the coincidental string of Valentines…

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Green CONTENTS: A Love Ball with candy inside. “You like pink stuff right? Some guy I know from Johto gave it to me."

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu CONTENTS: A fresh and new store bought cape for Silver. “I look forward to where you’re going in life.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Draze CONTENTS: A pastel pink card with “Happy Galentine’s Day” written on the front. The message inside reads “Thanks for being a good friend. If you ever need a favor or maybe just somebody to rough up a bunch of weirdos for you, you know who to call ;) -Anzu P.S. This is from my kid sister.” A colorful drawing of Alice wearing one of her iconic stage costumes is included on a separate sheet of paper, signed by Yuzu in the corner. There is also a small bag containing some homemade cookies from her.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Lance CONTENTS: Dear Q, Roses are red I don’t want to boast But you’re pretty cool And smarter than most! ~Q P.S. Self-love is important.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Ethan CONTENTS: A collection of old candies that Clair and Lance used to eat with a note that says “I remember you liking these old candies. Here’s hoping you still do."

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo CONTENTS: Dear Katlyn, Roses are red Your music is fine Your drumming Lucario Is cooler than mine. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Alice CONTENTS: Dear Claudia, Roses are red Fermata’s a jerk Your dancing is cool But will this rhyme work? ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Giovanni CONTENTS: A teddy bear for Kris. “I’ve heard of your success with the Gym Challenge! The Elite 4 welcome your challenge any time.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Katlyn CONTENTS: “Remember that old house in the forest? I found this up when we were there and I only came across it when I did some cleaning recently. -Morty”. Inside a gift box is a shining Dragon Fang, almost like it had been polished recently.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Moros WHO RECEIVED IT: Jac CONTENTS: A basket full of Valentine-related things in a very particular shade of bright pink. There are several roses, a few handfuls of foil-wrapped chocolate hearts, a big bag of heart-shaped gummies, and one large, very soft Luvdisc plush. There’s no card, just a tag that says, ‘TO: Lovrina FROM: M’

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Lovrina CONTENTS: With an image of a beautiful Alolan sunset on the horizon, the inside is a more explosive scene—of glitter! Enjoy that mess.

The loving message to go with it?

“Fuck you buddy.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Claudia CONTENTS: A piece of paper with the following written in pen: “I hate your stinking guts! You make me vomit. You’re scum between my toes. -Anzu”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Clair CONTENTS: Dear Daigo, Roses are red I wrote this with passion but what I can’t give you Is a new sense of fashion. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Dawn WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu CONTENTS: 8 Pepper Chocolates for Brendan. “I hear eating something spicy can get someone pumped up and boosts competition. Here’s looking to our next Contest.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia CONTENTS: Motorcycle shaped Cookies for Anzu. “You ride a motorcycle correct?”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Silver CONTENTS: A homemade smudging kit with written instructions on how to cleanse your home (or gym) of negative energy. A note reads “Clair, I’m sorry this isn’t much of a valentines gift, but I thought you might get some use out of it anyway. Happy Valentines Day. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Leaf CONTENTS: A sheet of paper with the word "Nerd” scrawled in pencil.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Ariana Natsumi CONTENTS: Mixed Chocolates and Candy for Green. “I do not remember what you enjoyed, but I hope you enjoy sweets.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Lillie CONTENTS: It’s a Pokemon Egg! What could be inside? The only thing that came with it is a note that says “This egg should hatch in a few days. Enjoy your new Pokemon! -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo CONTENTS: The card has a pair of Pikachu rubbing cheeks with their tails entwined on the front. On the inside is—oh no, glitter bomb! Enjoy that mess.

Only one word is written inside.“Dork.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Red CONTENTS: Homemade vanilla cookies that are somewhat shaped like Togepi. A note reads “Happy Valentines Day. I hope you enjoy these. -Morty” He’s only a little nervous that a certain Pokemon of his might have messed with one of the batches he made. Hopefully they taste fine.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Brendan CONTENTS: A box of loose leaf tea stored in individual cloth pouches. Different blends include citrus, lavender, chamomile, mint, rose and matcha (because why not be obvious?) A note attached reads “Happy Valentines Day. I made most of these blends myself. I hope you like them. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Whitney CONTENTS: A chocolate flower. “Hilarious right? Happy Valentines Day.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Jac CONTENTS: On the front of the card is a man and woman showing their tanned Alolan summer bodies. Inside, there’s a foil for… er, intimate bedroom activities. ‘No need to thank me.’

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Katlyn CONTENTS: A Red and Black Hat for Ethan.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Alice CONTENTS: A pink note that reads “Sorry that I lost my temper on you. I owe you one for helping me find that Clefairy Doll. P.S. If you find yourself in Olivine City anytime soon, here’s my phone number. I’ll treat you to a free meal for helping me out. -Anzu"

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty CONTENTS: Dear Zia, Roses are red You’re fond of a ghost They give me the creeps But you’re still engrossed. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Quentin CONTENTS: A shiny new Pokeball with a Gastly inside, adorning a light purple ribbon. “Happy Valentines Day! I wanted to give her to you sooner but she just hatched last week. Her name is Salvia. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Barry CONTENTS: Goomy shaped Chocolates for Red. “Send me photos of your little partner!”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Kris CONTENTS: A note reads: “Sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you lately. Hope this helps make up for it.” Attached is a small bag with homemade cookies from Yuzu and several pieces of store bought chocolates.

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia CONTENTS: Strawberries covered with Chocolates for Leaf. “I’ve heard of your recent successes! I’m very happy for you.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anzu WHO RECEIVED IT: Red CONTENTS: A small bag of homemade cookies with a note attached reads “Yuzu made too many extra cookies for Valentines Day, so she asked me to help her get rid of some. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Whitney WHO RECEIVED IT: Daigo CONTENTS: Attached with a box of cookies with jam in the centre is a card with a !!very!! cute picture of snubbull cuddling. Inside reads: ❤ Happy Valentine’s Day!! ❤ For White Day, we should go somewhere fun! Or even before! What do you say? But don’t think you can forget about White Day just because you’re a shut-in! 😠 Okay? I’ll be expecting a gift in return! 💕 - Whitney ❤

VALENTINE SENT BY: Quentin WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty CONTENTS: Dear Anzu, Roses are red You’re lacking a heart But the real problem is You’re not very smart. ~Q

VALENTINE SENT BY: Morty WHO RECEIVED IT: Sun CONTENTS: A pouch full of wild berries from the Ilex Forest. It seems that Morty had excellent luck when he went to gather them; there are a few Sitrus berries in the pile. “I wanted to share the wealth. Hope you’re doing well. -Morty”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Anonymous WHO RECEIVED IT: Quentin CONTENTS: From the day I met you at the battle frontier, I knew something was aloaf. My head got all dizzy for the first time in years and I knew, it had to be you. Your just the person of my dreams, and I hope that someday we can be together, though we have things to discuss. Feel free to visit anytime, as I know your always going going. You know where to find me! :)

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Ethan CONTENTS: Some Strawberry Marshmallows “This is thanks for you sister keeping Mimi company, but you can keep some I guess.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Zia CONTENTS: Chocolates for Ariana Natsumi. “Happy Valentines.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Green CONTENTS: Some really messy and sloppily made chocolate. “Torra wanted to give this to you. Happy Valentines.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Anzu CONTENTS: Store Bought Chocolates “Happy Valentines.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Dawn WHO RECEIVED IT: Claudia CONTENTS: Homemade Chocolates for Barry with a note. “You probably don’t realize how much you’ve done for me. Here’s to another good year.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Morty CONTENTS: A chocolate sphere. A solid sphere of chocolate. "Isn’t this funny?”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Daigo WHO RECEIVED IT: Clair CONTENTS: Halloween Candy. “Boo. You like scary stuff right.”

VALENTINE SENT BY: Whitney WHO RECEIVED IT: Lance CONTENTS: There’s a personal photo printed on the front of this card of Goldenrod City’s Gym Leader Whitney crowded by a group of pokémon: a smiling clefable, miltank, aipom, wigglytuff, and a bibarel whose flat eyes stare into your soul.

Inside are a bunch of stickers with this same exact picture, but smaller!

‘Sunny,Happy Valentine’s, Sunny! I’m thinking about you all the way here in Johto. 💕 Do they have a photo booth over there you can take sticker pictures with? You should find out, pronto!! Or send me some cute pictures of you and your pokémon!

Love you lots! 😘

❤️ Whitney ❤️ ’

VALENTINE SENT BY: Lance WHO RECEIVED IT: Red CONTENTS: A Black, Blue, and Red scarf made with Lance’s color scheme for Morty. "Stay warm.” is all the note says.

#valentine event

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thekillingquill · 7 years ago

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Dark Side of Your Room | Episode 2

This is a sequel to At the Drive-In. However, having read the prequel is not necessarily a requirement. I leave that up to your discretion.

At The Drive-In: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 + Epilogue

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Pairing: Jughead x Reader, Jughead x Betty Word Count: 3,721 Warnings: Parents are arguing, some nightmare-ish imagery of mom going after reader with a knife, I curse. Jughead’s getting his leather. Summary: Jughead and Reader reconnect at Southside High where he notices that she’s wearing a very familiar leather jacket. A/N: What can I say?

There’s a little house on a perfect little hill just short of a fairytale There’s a little child with a million ways to feel Caught up in a hurricane Paper thin walls Angry words from down the hall

The Sheriff’s station is the last place she wants to be but, as she is reminded constantly, she has to play by their rules to get by. She shifts in the uncomfortable lobby chair and, not for the first time, contemplates what would be worse: having Sheriff Keller dislike her, or having him feel personally invested in her.

Right now, he’s invested and she shouldn’t be so hard on the man. He’s been incredibly kind to her but, if he looks any closer, he’ll start to see something he doesn’t like. She starts making a mental a list of things Sheriff Keller doesn’t like as they pertained to her right now: 1. Her mother. 2. Her father. 3. Her new mailing address. Also known as the reasons for her visit at the Sheriff’s station today.

Sheriff Keller looks tired when he joins her in the lobby. She expects him to invite her to his office, but instead he surprises her by taking the seat next to her. He lets out a loud sigh and rubs a hand across his brow. He reminds her of a house after a flood: sagging and soft, bloated, and visibly damaged by conditions outside of his control.

But Sheriff Keller is still standing. His bones are strong and he’s not beyond repair just yet. If someone would just take the time to look after him (a home cooked meal, a good night’s sleep, a one-way ticket out of post-homicide Riverdale) he might not fall apart.

“Sheriff Keller, are you okay?” The concern in her voice isn’t feigned. He sighs again and gives her a small half smile.

“I should be asking you that. How did your meeting go, kid?” The way he calls her kid reminds her of her father. It kind of pisses her off, but she has to play by the rules and do her part. She smiles at him softly, falling into her role as easily as she breathes. She knows this part well: the thankful victim, docile and timid.

“It was okay.” She makes her voice small and looks straight ahead, pressing the toe of her right shoe into the linoleum floor. She grips the edges of the plastic chair and pulls her shoulders up in a quick shrug.

“Well, hopefully this will keep you from having to testify,” he says lightly. “How are you really, kid? You staying out of trouble?”

“Yes sir,” she answers automatically. “I’m doing okay. The foster family is really nice and the school isn’t so bad if you just keep your head down.”

“Good, good, that’s good. I worry about you over there.” Sheriff Keller stands up with a bone weary groan, running a hand over his face. He turns to look down at her and his face, despite being lined with exhaustion, softens. “With these recent attacks… just be careful out there okay?”

“Yes sir.” He stares at her a moment and she knows that he doesn’t see her as she is now, healthy and strong, but as she looked the night he answered a domestic disturbance call over the radio. Sometimes, if she looks hard enough, she can see the memories playing out in his eyes. They both know that if he had been five minutes later she would have been the second teenager that the town of Riverdale buried in a six month period.

“You’re a good kid,” he says and holds out his hand to her. She stands and shakes his hand firmly to signal the end of their current check in. She hopes it will be the last, but knows that he’s got a soft spot for her. The teenager he managed to save. As she lets go of his hand, she sees Jughead disappear through the door leading outside.

She forgets herself and her carefully cultivated persona of “timid survivor” falls away. She takes large strides to follow Jughead and calls a confident goodbye to Sheriff Keller over her shoulder. All she can focus on is catching Jughead before he disappears again. She couldn’t find him after they spoke that morning and from what her friends said, Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge had crashed through the cafeteria like a tsunami and whisked him away.

He is standing outside of the station with his hands in his pockets. Just like this morning, she is left breathless by the sight of him. He’s scowling, but she knows it’s not for her. The world gave a little boy a field of four leaf clovers and then set it on fire while he was forced to watch. He’s been breathing in ash for so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like to inhale without choking.

He tells himself that Betty is the Northern wind extinguishing the last of the flames and clearing the air of smoke, and this girl standing before him is a snake ready to strike. He tells himself this over, and over, and over, but feels himself relaxing when her lips twitch into a smile that mutes the chaos in his head. Y/N walks up to him and he swallows thickly, feeling suddenly uneasy.

When she is close enough that he can smell her (smoke, leather, honey), his mind erupts in a symphony of sound. He had to do a double take when he saw her in the lobby with Sheriff Keller. At first he thought she was handcuffed, but she wouldn’t be so relaxed if that were the case. He thought maybe probation, but Sheriff Keller seemed far too fond of her. He thought and thought and thought, and with her so close all of these thoughts began to blur in his mind until one rose above the others.

“Are you following me?” He asks, squinting at her accusingly. He means it to come across as teasing, but his throat is strained and he sounds sharp and wicked. There is a genuine curiosity to his question and her smile morphs into a smirk.

“Let’s call it a happy accident,” she says with forced levity. She moves the conversation along with a question she hopes comes across as casual instead of desperately nosy. “You visiting your dad?”

Jughead’s scowl falls back into place and he kicks at the snow on the sidewalk. “Yeah, for all the good it does.” He scoffs and starts to walk away from the Sheriff’s station, not knowing if she’ll follow or if he wants her to. She takes five quick steps to catch up to him and he tries to figure out if he’s happy or annoyed.

Betty is the Northern wind, clearing the air of smoke and letting him breathe again.

“What do you mean by that?” She asks him. Jughead’s pace increases and she has to take two steps for every one of his. Anyone who sees them together will find this an odd sight, but she doesn’t care about blending in right now.

“Hey, what do you mean by that? Jug?” He squeezes his eyes shut, rolling his shoulders back once and clenches his fist.

“It’s nothing,” he grits out and his pace increases. This could only be called speed walking.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” she gasps, reaching a hand out to slow him down. She can’t keep up with him and talk at the same time. She’s not ready to let this go, to let him go. Jughead freezes at the feeling of her fingers curled in the sleeve of his jacket. She stoops down and tries to meet his eye before she speaks again. “You used to be able to talk to me.”

“I used to know you!” The statement bursts from Jughead like thunder and he resents his voice for cracking in that moment. She flinches back in surprise and he resents her for that, too. She recovers quickly, stepping closer to him and each word she speaks rips open another suture in her broken heart.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She rolls her shoulders back and tilts her chin upwards, looking Jughead in the eye defiantly.

“Where’s your jacket?” It’s posed like an accusation and Jughead leans back in surprise at the question. His response to her had been unthinking, a knee jerk reaction, an unformed thought let loose on the world.

“Not here. I’d be stupid to wear it anywhere a deputy or, god forbid, the Sheriff would see. I told you the truth about my mother this morning and I’ve always been honest with you, Jughead. What else do you need to know?” Jughead is speaking again before she has the chance to fully finish her question.

“Whose jacket is it? Is it yours?” She fights the urge to smirk. Jughead Jones has tipped his hand without even realizing he was at the poker table.

“I know what you’re doing, Jughead. Stop avoiding the question. What happened in there?” Jughead scoffs and looks away from her to regroup. When he looks back at her she can see that he is on the brink of losing himself to something.

“They’re offering him a deal to cut down his sentence, but he won’t take it. It was stupid. I knew he wouldn’t take it, but Sheriff Keller got to me for a second.” She realizes now that Jughead isn’t upset with his father, or even Sheriff Keller, but himself for falling into the trap of hope once more. He should know better by now that hoping is a waste. What she wants to do is to hold him, to kiss his hair, to tell him that he shouldn’t be ashamed of hoping. But that seems like something his girlfriend should do for him and she was his almost maybe in another life something important.

Instead she links their arms and leans against him. A silent assurance, a show of support, an innocent and friendly gesture. She gently tugs Jughead into motion and with each step he relaxes into her side.

“So what kind of deal was it?” She asks conversationally. Jughead sighs, and she doesn’t miss the slight tremble in it.

“They want him to give up the names of the other Serpents involved in the Jason Blossom murder. He’d never do it. Sheriff Keller thought I could convince him.”

“And did you?” Jughead chuckles humorlessly.

“I didn’t even try. There was no point. He’s not going to do it.”

They walk together in silence until Jughead announces with some reluctance that he’s late for the town’s 75th anniversary jubilee. She waits until she can no longer see Jughead in the distance and then she runs.

Her foster family rents a home that has two bedrooms, a garage and a workshop out back. She bypasses the house with its pristine front lawn and the garage with its squeaky door and heads straight into the backyard, stepping over scrap metal as she goes.

The light is on so she knows he’s here. She kicks the door jamb three times, the only way she knows that he’ll hear her, and calls his name as loud as she dares. He’s not supposed to be living here anymore and the next door neighbour would love to call the Sheriff on the miscreant who deflowered his precious little girl (five years ago).

He opens the door a crack and she shoves her way inside. His cot in the corner has a mess of tangled sheets hanging off of it. Tomorrow he will bitch at her about how his sheets got oil stains on them and she won’t give a fuck because it was his own fault. The air is hazy with smoke and the smell of marijuana is so strong that she knows he must have a lit joint somewhere in this mess of fabric and tools. She doesn’t understand how someone can be hazardous in so many different ways.

“The Man wants you to call him so he knows you got in okay. One of Moms’ old ladies went into labour so she’s out for the night.” He rattles off these details with feigned disinterest, leaning against the wall behind her. She turns and watches him as he fiddles with a pack of matches. An unlit cigarette hanging casually from his chapped lips.

“I ran into FP’s kid today,” she says casually, kicking a loose sock into the corner where most of his dirty laundry hangs out. “At school and after I met with the Sheriff.”

“Jughead, the bore. Do you know how many hours I spent tailing that kid just to watch him drinking milkshakes with his girlfriend and that goofy red headed kid?” He watches her carefully for a reaction, but she knows better than to give him one. He’s been baiting her and testing her since the day they met and she’s not interested in playing tonight.

“Don’t be an asshole, Alexander. This is important.” Alexander rolls his eyes and pushes off from the wall. In one step he has lit a match, in another he is standing in front of her offering her a lit cigarette. She declines the cigarette and he shrugs, shaking out the match and putting the cigarette between his lips. He side steps her gracefully and falls back on his cot which squeaks in protest.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” He chuckles and takes another drag from his cigarette. She crosses her arms and glares down at him. “What did Jughead tell you?”

“They offered FP a deal. Names in exchange for a lesser sentence. Sheriff Keller brought Jughead down to the station to try to get him to convince his dad to talk. Jughead told me he didn’t even bother. FP won’t talk.”

Alexander swings his legs over the side of his cot and crushes his cigarette on the bottom of his boot. He stands up quickly and, in one smooth motion, has his hands curled under her thighs to lift her into the air. She lets out a surprised shriek at the unexpected action, quickly wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He laughs gaily at her reaction, another test that only he understands.

“Now, that is important.” He takes two steps and drops her with a thud on the work counter. His hands come up to her shoulders and run down her arms. He tugs on the sleeve of her Henley teasingly. “Where’s your snakeskin at, baby girl?”

“I left it at school.” She answers him, leaning back against the wall. His calloused hands reach up to push her hair out of her face and he presses a rough kiss to her forehead. Alexander leans back, pushing his mess of blonde hair out of his face and sends her a wicked smirk.

“Damn it. Woulda been hot if you had it.”

He doesn’t tell her where they are going, but she has an idea. When Alexander pulls into the familiar trailer park she gets a little jolt of excitement. He helps her off of his bike and unbuckles her helmet for her, running his fingers through her hair to smooth out any tangles.

Alexander wraps an arm around her shoulders and she wraps hers tightly around his waist. Up ahead she can see a group of Serpents congregating. It’s a small welcome party, but it will do.

“You guys brought Hot Dog?” She asks with a laugh.

“Hey, he’s as much a Serpent as you are, baby girl.” Alexander gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and they step into the thick of things.

“Well, shit, it’s ‘bout time you showed up. Where’s the jacket for FP’s kid?” Alexander removes his arm and gestures to Y/N with a self-satisfied smirk. It had been his idea for her to wear it, at least for the ride over. She had a feeling that he was hoping to accomplish something with it. Whoever he was baiting, it wasn’t her.

“Legacy, give me that damn jacket! Shit.” Alexander helps her shrug out of the oversized leather and tosses it up to “Tiny” as he likes to call him. This isn’t his name, or his nickname, just something that Alexander likes to call him to ruffle his feathers. To this day, Y/N only knows three or four Serpents by their names.

Alexander tucks her under his jacket and wraps his arm tightly around her again. She shivers and presses tightly against his side with her arms around his middle. She’s walking slightly stooped over, but it’s the price she pays to stay warm and dry as they approach FP’s trailer. More people join their congregation as they walk.

She’s quivering as they wait for Jughead to answer the door. It’s a mixture of anticipation and the cold and that unnamed thing that always seems to grip her when he’s nearby. His signature hat is missing as he tentatively steps out onto what passes for a porch in these parts. Hot Dog barks at the sight of him.

“Easy Hot Dog, he’s family,” his handler chastises, putting the dog into submission. Jughead’s eyes scan the faces gathered at the bottom of the stairs, pausing on her.

“Hey,” he says recognizing some of these faces from his youth. His eyes again dart back to Y/N, where she is securely pressed up against a tall Serpent. Her head is resting on his shoulder and the taller boy (man?) smirks knowingly at Jughead.

“Heard your dad coulda named names, but didn’t. Serpents take care of their own. We wanted you to know no matter what happens to him, however long he’s gone, we’ve got your back.” Tiny holds up the jacket she had been wearing just minutes before and presents it to Jughead. “This is yours. If you want it.”

Jughead accepts the jacket, looking down at the familiar serpent and, of all things, looks to her. His mouth twitches into an almost smile and she can’t help but to return to the look. He starts to pull on the jacket and he can smell it--leather, smoke and honey. His lips twitch once more into a smirk.

He looks down to admire the jacket and Y/N is admiring him when she hears it. Even from this far away, she can hear Betty Cooper. Jughead looks into the trailer and his expression freezes into momentary shock. Like he’s surprised to see her standing there.

Alexander barely stifles his laugh.

“Sorry kid, didn’t realize you had company,” Alexander calls. Jughead looks over and Y/N knows without looking that Alexander is behaving like an asshole--smug smirk and all. “Welcome to the family, I’m gonna get this little lady out of the rain. Nice meetin’ yah Jones!”

Y/N manages to wave at Jughead before Alexander is turning her around and pushing her through the rain back to his bike.

The nightmare has become a common occurrence for her. It always starts the same: she’s in her room with the shadow of a tree dancing in the wind. The ceiling is its stage and it tells her strange stories. She can hear a storm raging outside, downstairs, down the hall, in front of her door, everywhere. In this dream she feels six or seven and there’s a strange glow over everything. It’s purple, green, red, pink, teal. A night light? Eventually, the thunder and the wind begins to sound like human voices and then words.

“You wanted out of the south side, I got you out of the south side! You wanted a two storey house with a tree in the yard and I got you that, too! What the fuck else can I give you huh?”

“Stability! We can’t keep living like this, not knowing when the next project will be! I was on the phone for hours today with collections!”

“And whose fault is that, huh? You should never have gotten that second credit card! I don’t see you doing anything to help with the finances.”

“Raising a child is a full time fucking job, asshole!”

“You said you’d get a part-time job when she started school! Well, she’s been in school for two years now and I still don’t see you lifting a fucking finger to help. This place is a fucking pigsty. What the fuck do you even do all day, huh?”

“Fuck you!”

She squeezes her eyes shut. She’s standing in the living room and everything is purple. There is broken glass and an overturned table on the ground. There is something shimmering in the glass. She looks up and her mom is in the kitchen. And then the dining room. And then in front of her, swiping at her with a knife. Y/N jerks backwards, trying to dodge the blade, but can’t seem to move away. She can only go down and she’s falling, falling, falling.

Her mother is screaming incoherently and Y/N grips her wrist, holding the knife away from her face with all the strength she has. Her mother is red, blue, green, yellow. Y/N screams for her father, but he’s nowhere in sight.

She looks to her left and sees Jughead. He’s sitting on the bottom of the stairs watching this unfold with his hands resting on his knees. His hat is on the floor by his feet and he looks like he just woke up. She calls for his help, but he’s looking away from her. She calls his name again, but he doesn’t hear her and he doesn’t see her. Betty is there and Jughead is standing to take her hands in his. Y/N watches him as he brings them to his mouth, placing a single kiss on each digit.

Y/N wakes up and immediately scrambles into an upright position. Her chest is heaving and her hand is pressed against her pounding heart. It’s not uncommon for her to dream of the night her mother attacked her, and it’s not uncommon to feel like she’s been given a shot of adrenaline when she wakes up. She did think she was getting better at waking up from them, though.

Now she’s not so sure. She can’t seem to relax. Her mind keeps replaying parts of her dream over and over again. She ends up spending the rest of the night awake, trying to figure out when Jughead and Betty became a part of her nightmare.

Now there’s a ghost in the back of this room and I don’t like it. I fall asleep with my covers pulled up and try to fight it. I gotta say it’s hard to be brave when you’re alone in the dark I told myself that I wouldn’t be scared But I’m still having nightmares

TAG LIST: @jillisbetterthanyou; @overdressed-overbaked; @thatsadbreakfastclub; @ju-gg; @forsythe-pendleton-jones-iv; @redhairedoddity; @murderyoursoul; @tasteofswallowedwords; @velvetacex; @ri-verdale; @ourlazydetectivekitten; @wearelondonbound; @jackyfrost01; @rhyxn; @butterybra; @sour-kangaroo1998; @jj-trickster; @realfanssavingbands;

#Quill Writes #Dark Side of Your Room #Jughead imagine #jughead jones imagine #jughead jones x reader #Jughead x Reader #riverdale imagine #self sabotage my dudes

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spockandawe · 7 years ago

Note

Could you go more in depth in how homestuck romance works in your transformers fic? I find it really cool and fascinating.

OuO

WELL

Let me start off with a real quick rundown of the homestuck quadrants, since I’m not sure you’re familiar with that setup. The basic idea is that you’ve got four flavors of alien romance to work with, and these are each tied to a card suite, just as a convenient, fast symbol. So heart=flush romance, diamond=pale romance, spade=pitch romance, and club=ashen romance.

Heart is the closest parallel to human general-purpose romance. The kind of people who will do a smooch love each other and all that jazz. Pretty basic. Homestuck sorta defines it in terms of finding something to pity and want to protect, but in fanon practice, it tends to feel mostly like regular romance. Diamonds is where it starts getting more complicated, because we’re translating a fictional alien romantic paradigm. It’s a flavor of romance that’s affectionate and emotionally intimate, but… hmmm. I’ve seen various interpretations that treat it as best BEST friends, chosen siblings, or something like flush romance just without the sloppy romantic makeouts and such. But a consistent element is emotional support and being close in a way that means you’re there for them and help take care of them when things get bad.

Fortunately for me, transformers comes complete with a ready-made palerom parallel! The first time I ran into the idea of amica endurae, I was just all [eyes emoji] because…. that’s clearly palerom. Are you telling me that’s not palerom? Because just look at it, it’s a formalized intimate relationship that’s distinct from being hearts-married, they even have a standard established amica marriage ceremony, oh my god, this is TOTALLY palerom. We don’t get much of a look at the inner workings of an amica relationship, but we can see pieces of it in the way Nautica struggles to connect with Firestar, and her interactions with Nightbeat and company before their ceremony. It’s a solid foundation of emotional intimacy and trust, and then because fanon, you’re free to riff on that to your heart’s content.

Spades is less complicated than diamonds. Because the idea of rivalmance and foe yay, that’s pretty well established. It just pins that down into a healthy base structure. Instead of being a romantic couple who JUST fights and JUST wants to get each other mad, you can admire the potential of the other person….. and be endlessly frustrated by the things they choose to do with that potential. It’s a rivalry where you’re in a race with each other and trying to be like I WIN, while at the same time saying that yes I’m better than you, but *WE* as a unit blow everybody else away. It’s… hard to put into words XD It’s a lot of pushing each other to new heights, and you admire each other, but it’s an admiration that the other person WINS from you. Starscream and Windblade hit this spot so naturally for me, because they’re a team, they’re working towards the same goal, they respect each other’s strengths and abilities– and both think the other one is doing things entirely wrong. It’s a fascination that blends admiration and frustration together, and if you can find the right balance in your head, it can be so ELECTRIC.

In the context of the backstory I use to justify it, being at war, total war, for such a long time meant that like… people were primed to see each other as rivals. You’re in opposition, this is dragging out long enough you’re going to be familiar with people on the opposite side, you’re going to be figuring out how they think, how they tick, you’re going to see the choices they make– But the two of you are also on opposite sides. There’s danger there, if one person is feeling romance and tries to connect and the other person is like oh my god no we’re just enemies you stupid fuck and bam, that guy’s dead. Or if you make it work, the strain of being on opposite sides can be a slow poison to the relationship, and with the war hanging over everything, it’s so hard to see if things have become toxic. Or, maybe it’s all working out great and you’re super in hatelove! And your commanding officer finds out and decides you’re a security risk, or decides he can use this relationship to get information from the other side. There were so many ways for it to go wrong that people started dodging it, or cutting it off when their friends started to crush pitch, then MTOs never even got familiar with it at all, and gradually it faded totally away.

(not really spoilers: who has starscream had an intense, antagonistic rivalry with? a rivalry that got poisonous and violent? could starscream himself have personal baggage for how ugly these failed pitch romances can get? :3c)

And ashen romance….. the most, MOST complicated…….. Okay, I’m not going to go into terribly much detail, because I also have an ask specifically about ashen romance that I need to answer soon (not just now, my hand is le sore). But the general idea is that yes, it IS easy for a pitch romance to tip into unhealthy territory. Ashen romance is when you get a third leaf to step in the middle and balance the two of them out. This is very, VERY loosely defined, and it seems to be more of a…. temporary romantic construct that the other ones tend to be. It’s basically pitchrom, plus a meddling meddler who meddles. Ideally, the middle leaf keeps the other two from doing real harm to each other, and those two adore their middle leaf and tend to listen to what they say, when they’d refuse to listen well to the person they’re pitch with. I don’t have a direct transformers parallel for this, and generally speaking, I tend not to pin this quadrant down formally anyways. But if I have a triad? I slip so, so easily into writing it, hahaha

And if we’re playing by strict homestuck rules, hearts and spades are concupiscent quadrants, meaning let’s get jiggy with it, and diamonds and clubs are conciliatory romance, so the physical affection stays at sfw levels. That can be fudged for fanon, of course, especially once you move out of homestuck altogether. And to complicate things, you can also get relationships where you blur lines between two quadrants, or where you vacillate between them.

This is easier to describe in terms of characters. The starbladejack is a dynamic where I have all the quadrants in the mix. Wheeljack starts off in a very palerom way with Starscream, seeking to be his emotional support and someone he can lean on and trust. Windblade is TOTALLY pitch with Starscream, they provoke each other and egg each other on, and reduce each other to pigtail-pulling levels of maturity (but especially as the relationship stabilizes, it’s with the understanding that *I’M* the only one who gets to do that, and having each other’s backs and being willing to go right from stupid slapfights to defending each other from actual threats). Their relationship…. struggles at first. Because Starscream. Wheeljack takes a major ashen role in that one fic, nudging them apart when things start to get ugly, bridging communication gaps, offering emotional support to others as needed. But with just Windblade, he’s got a casual flush thing going, where maybe he wouldn’t have gone all the way through with locking it down, but hey, here they are, this is nice and comfortable, and that’s going to deepen out into a solid, quiet relationship. With Starscream, he defaults to pale, but he blurrs the line into flush. Or with starbee, the dynamic is more pitchpale. Bumblebee is frustrated with Starscream, but when Starscream is struggling, he’ll let the fight drop and offer what emotional support he can instead. And in the starbladebee, he takes an ashen middle leaf role, because…. these two dorks, man.

It’s so much fun!! I can write out the bits of the dynamics in words, but it flows really smooth on the paper. The starbee I laid out as ‘pitch caretaking, slipping into true palerom with just the smallest, most toothless pretense at pitch irritation’. Or KOBD+starblade, that’s three-way pitchrom, VERY heated (and immature), with Breakdown having major flush dokis over these three slim little red spitfires.TFP soundwave/smokescreen, I want to write that as pitch caretaking with a gradual flush fascination from smokescreen, or TFP soundwave/bumblebee is also pitch caretaking, but gradually smoothing out into a more balanced palerom thing with almost no pitch to it at all. It’s the BEST shorthand for breaking down these dynamics. I love it so much, and quadrants improve EVERY fandom shipping scene, even if they aren’t laid out as explicit quadrants.

#spock replies #long post//#quadrants #indutia endura #aemula endura #amica endura

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whathappenedtomyweekend · 3 years ago

Text

It’s Just A Spark Ch.19 - Hundred Percent

Story: It’s Just A Spark

Author: TiliaofAnkh

Read it on ffnet (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12754698/1/It-s-Just-A-Spark) and ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114941/chapters/30003876)

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"Hello? Hiccup?"

Hiccup felt his heart unclench at the sound of her voice on the other end of the line and exhaled, leaning against his locker.

"Hey," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Everything okay?"

He smirked, his other hand coming up to rub his face. "Yeah, everything's - depends how you look at it. I'm okay. It's, uh, it's about my cousin, Scott. He … his Dad found out he's bi and kicked him out - after beating him up."

He heard her gasp. "Oh, my God. That's horrible, I'm so sorry."

There were a few moments of silence on the other side, but then Astrid asked, "Does he like tea?"

Hiccup stopped, taken aback. "What?"

"He's more of a coffee guy," he said then, still grinning. "But I'd love a bit of some really nice loose leaf tea blend."

Astrid snorted lightly and replied, "Alright, so one coffee and three teas, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see you in ten, then."

"Yeah," Hiccup repeated, feeling completely at peace for the first time since he'd set set foot into the department today. "Sounds perfect."

Memories of exchanged keys and a way too long work break flooded her mind as she spotted him, standing in the door.

Last time he'd been leaning against it, grinning at her with crossed arms.

Tonight, he was simply stood there. Upon stepping closer to the light, Astrid saw the expression on his face, her heart softening at the sight of him.

"Hey," she whispered into the darkness and gently laid her hands on his shoulders, pressing a light kiss onto his lips.

"Hey," he echoed, wrapping his arms around her just before she could pull away and hid his face in the crook of her neck. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," She in turn hugged his middle, gently running her hand across his back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed out, hugging her tighter. "Now I am."

She smiled at that, hugging him a bit tighter as well.

They ended up in a rather small room with a sofa, a table and a kitchen area at the opposite end of the sofa.

"I'll put the kettle on," Hiccup mumbled and strode over to the hob. Astrid watched him carefully as he filled the kettle with water and took four mugs out of the cabinet above him.

"When did he know? That he was bi, I mean?"

Astrid smiled at that. "I like your nickname. It's cute."

He chuckled and handed her the mug. "Thanks."

"You said he's living with your Dad and Uncle for a while?"

"Yeah – but I mean, it's my Dad and Uncle," Hiccup smirked. Astrid frowned.

"How do you mean?"

The look on Hiccup's face was taking her by surprise. She'd expected anything from confusion to pity, but instead she was met by pure tenderness.