#ourfic

so what do I do?

- draw a funny thing about the fic

- make three moodboards about the fic

- make a playlists to listen to while writing the fic

- not write the fic

- be oblivious about why the word count of my parts is not going up

“Juggie, wake up!”

Jughead groaned and cracked open one eye, only to see the other half of his bed totally empty. Just a dream. He groaned and rolled over.

“Seriously Jug, come look!”

It was a very persistent dream, and it sounded like it was coming from his window. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked over and saw a blonde angel in the dim light. He got up to join her.

“It’s snowing!”

“Betty, we live in Vermont. It does that here.”

He knew that didn’t matter— every year since they were five, Betty had dragged Jughead and Archie out of their beds on the morning of the first snow. There was no point in fighting, but he was pretty sure it was a Saturday, and he thought they’d both earned some sleep.

“Should we wake up Archie? Ooh, and Veronica! They won’t want to miss this.”

“Betty, it’s—“ he squinted at his alarm clock— “Jesus, it’s four in the morning. They can wait a couple of hours.”

“I don’t know Jug, it’s not sticking yet. What if it all melts?”

“Then we’ll just have to wait til the next snow, y’know, tomorrow or the next day.”

Betty pouted, and Jughead softened.

“Betts, Veronica needs her beauty sleep, and Archie— well, he just needs sleep. But I get that it’s important, so I’ll go out in the freezing cold with you.”

Betty grinned.

“Such a gentleman, offering to take me out, in the dark, alone, just you and me—“

“Shut up and put these sweaters on.”

“There’s less than an inch of snow on the ground, do I really need three sweaters?”

“I will accept two scarves and earmuffs as a substitute for one of the sweaters.”

“Fine. But you have to wear the one your grandma knit for you.”

“Joke’s on you, I love this sweater,” he mumbled while pulling the lime green atrocity over his head.

Betty just laughed and pulled him toward the door.

“Wait!”

“What? Jughead, we’re gonna miss it!”

“Your head’s gonna be cold.” With that, he plopped his signature beanie on her head. She grinned.

“I feel edgier already. I suddenly have the urge to move to Seattle and become a bass guitarist. Gone are the days of pumpkins spice lattes, from now on I only drink straight espresso— what? Don’t smile at me! I’m making fun of you!”

“You’re cute.”

Betty rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“You’re not so bad yourself. Can we please go outside now?”

“Just one more thing.” He leaned down to give her a quick kiss, and then opened the door to a not-quite winter wonderland.

Betty rushed out into the cold, sticking out her tongue to catch snowflakes the same way she did in kindergarten. Then she smiled, and held out her hand, and for a fleeting moment, Jughead believed that things would be okay. And maybe, at least for awhile, they would be.That weekend they could go sledding and drink hot chocolate, and forget about the terrors of their town just long enough to build a snowman. Eventually, life would resume, and Jughead would have to go back to bigger concerns than keeping his girlfriend from getting frostbite.

At least for now, though, Jughead Jones was content to stand in the snow at four in the morning with his favorite person in the world.

“Jug?” Betty came up and wrapped her arms around him, her cold nose pressing into his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for coming out with me. I know it’s early.”

“Mmm.”

“I love you,” she whispered, removing her face from his scarf.”

“I love you too,” he answered, pressing his lips against hers.

Saying it out loud, the maybes and what ifs feel awkward, heavy on his tongue. The schematics of love. He could love this man, if Cassian could guarantee their time together. But he can't, so thinking it is easier than saying it.

But he can't help himself.

“I could love you,” he murmurs one day, when Bodhi falls asleep against his chest, lips parted slightly. Cassian can feel his warm breath against his neck and he sighs, fingers sliding between long strands of brown again and again.

Bodhi doesn't hear and Cassian never repeats it.

It comes to him again but more intense, like a deep ache that's settled in his bones and won’t disappear. I could love you, he thinks, head buried in Bodhi’s neck as he thrusts into Bodhi’s trembling body. The pilot whimpers, blunt nails digging into Cassian’s shoulder blades. They're so close that Cassian can feel the thump of Bodhi’s heart against his own, untamed and honest. His heart can't help but beat to the rhythm of Bodhi’s.

I do love you, he realizes when Bodhi gasps out his name, mouth bitten and red as he comes. Cassian grunts and pushes again, once, twice until he comes as well.

And as he flops back onto the bed and Bodhi immediately curls into his side, arm slung low on Cassian’s naked waist he realizes, again, I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

And it doesn’t change.

He says it for the first time on a humid morning on base. The sun is just beginning to show itself, casting luminous light into their small room. Outside, the base rumbles with life. Bodhi’s just waking up, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he buries himself deeper in the blankets despite the heat.

Cassian is enamoured by the way sunlight, bright and yellow, spills onto Bodhi’s face, creating shadows under his cheekbones and glistens against the high points of his face.

“You're being creepy,” Bodhi mumbles, voice raspy and slow. The sunlight makes his eyes lighter and Cassian notices for the first time that Bodhi’s eyes are speckled, like the constellations that dot the bridge of his nose. He can't stop himself from bending down to press a kiss to those freckles.

The words form clumsily on his tongue.

“I love you,” he says before he can stop himself. These words don't belong on his lips.

“I love you,” he repeats and this time, it feels natural; like the breeze that blows on a warm evening, like the rain that patters during monsoon.

Bodhi lifts his head from the pillow, eyes sleepy and soft.

Silence.

Bodhi sees the shadow a second too late.

uh so this prompt has been sitting in my inbox for years at this point

i had some dialogue written around the prompt line and literally nothing else; the world would just not crystallize around the dialogue

and one day i was talking with @breakaway71 after helping her out with something and i was like WAIT. WAIT I KNOW EXACTLY WHO CAN FLESH OUT THIS DIALOGUE

and i was RIGHT

it is canon-adjacent, slightly-angsty rulie goodness, with bonus ray & carlos. let me stress to you that i contributed the initial dialogue, some spacing/formatting edits, and a few new lines at the end, and that is IT. she did the heavy lifting but i think the end result is a beautiful blend of our styles!

chapter 6: the hope

all the things we didn't by @where-you-go and @bananakarenina

Chapter 4! The Crash

all the things we didn't

by @where-you-go and @bananakarenina

Chapter 4 summary:

Luke tries to tell Bobby about fireworks, but Bobby's not buying it.

At The Orpheum, Luke tries to show him.