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pilot-boi · 1 year

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Plotbunny AU 5 - WELCOME BACK TO BEACON, LOVEBIRDS

(And we're back to this nonsense. Let's go, this world ain't gonna fix itself)

Come the day of Beacon's semester starting, Jaune gets to work being everyone's brother figure, while Alyx decides to get to know Jaune's siblings, her rivals for his hugs, his crush, friends.

Between Jaune hugging everyone who stands still long enough, the entire student body cooing over Juniper, and Alyx making commentary it all goes pretty good..

Then she drags him up to Weiss and Pyrrha, and Jaune becomes a stuttering mess. Alyx decides to ask the redhead who she is, since her saying hello gave Jaune a coughing fit.

Weiss asks Alyx if she knows who Pyrrha is, and when he says no, looks like she's going to start a tirade ,but Jaune plays peacemaker.

He thought long and hard, staying up late into the night: could he pretend he never recognized her again? Try and be ensure he becomes her partner again? game the system like that?

Manipulate her with false information and half-truths like everyone else did?

(No, never. Not in a million years. Never, ever. He's not the Jaune that loved and lost, he's a shadow of that man, but he could never dream of giving her anything but choices and support)

"This is Pyrrha Nikos, Alyx. She won the tournament in Mistral four times.... oh! And she's also sponsored by my favorite cereal, where I got the sweater from!"

Let it be known that Alyx is a reformed hellion and will game the system for Jaune's sake.

"Ohhhh, sounds important. You should partner up with Jaune here, he's brave and loyal and strong, and he deserves the best partner cause he'll be their best partner in turn! Like a knight from a storybook. Team Jaune will be the place to be-"

Jaune ain't having it. He'll protect Pyrrha from everyone, even his own misplaced feelings if he needs to.

"She's also a person who deserves to have her boundaries respected and for no one to project their wants or feelings onto her, Alyx. Come on, sorry you two, please have a nice day...."

(And Jaune misses Pyrrha watching him walk away with a laser focus.)

Initiation comes. Jaune takes Juniper out of his pocket and she grows to regular size, and Jaune lands safely in the forest...

And has a panic attack

He's already changed things, he's changing things, what if he messes up? What if it all gets worse? What if- THUNK

"Hello Again! Are you okay?"

There's Pyrrha, having jumped on her spear and ridden it like a surfboard after using it's propellant features and semblance to guide it.

Because of course she makes it look effortless; riding the spear until it landed in that tree, looking down at him while he looks up.

Something clicks.

She jumps down, hair falling, and without thinking about it, he catches her in his arms, holding her there for an instant that lasts forever before setting her on her feet.

There a small smile on her face, and his helm is hiding the tears in his eyes.

She speaks to him, a beaming smile on her face:

"So, is there anymore room on Team Jaune?"

He takes off his helmet, smiling in-spite of his misgivings as something seems to align within him. And from her beaming face, he thinks he eels it, too.

"Hardy har....partner."

Eyes lidded, Pyrrha calls her spear to her hand without a thought, smiling back at him.

"Then let's get going, partner."

Jaune helps her onto Juniper, and they rush off towards the Relics.

Together.

(It all mostly works itself out, to Jaune's relief. They kill a Nevermore and a Deathstalker, with style even, and Juniper actually dropkicks an Ursa over the horizon) (When he emerges from the Forest with Pyrrha as his partner, Alyx is very smug, the little brat. Jaune hugs her anyways)

While Jaune goes to classes, Alyx doesn't spend all of her time taking care of Juniper she needs to do other things or she'll go stir crazy.

If she doesn't distract herself from the fact that everything she knew is gone, she'll go mad.

So she reads, and watches videos on her scroll, but eventually, after reading her brother's book for the sixth time, she asks Ozpin for his thoughts on it, as the resident 'Legend Expert'.

Ozpin has many thoughts, and delights at the chance to discuss Legends and the truths behind them.

(And listen, Alyx is taking everything he says with a grain of salt, she has heard many rants from the Rusted Knight about him and his habit of omitting details, but his passion for Fairy Tales seems genuine)

And one day Alyx decides she wants to be Better, yes, but to help more people be Better as well.

"How would you like to help me write a sequel to this story my brother wrote? So everyone knows the truth, even if they don't know it...."

(Playing on that Ozpin seems to be the incarnation most obsessed with mythology and researching and lecturing about them)

And so they write, weeks going on and continuing even as the semester starts and classes begin, sharing hot chocolate and occasionally taking breaks to walk Juniper and check in on Jaune, training in the forest nearby:

>The Origins of the Rusted Knight: A story of the only son with seven sisters running away from his family's farm to become a hero like his family ancestor.

>The Girl Who Wished To Become Real: A tragedy that serves as a Stealth Prequel to The Girl who Fell Through The World, and touches on What Makes A Person.

>The Boy Who Returned Home: A tribute to Lewis, and all he did for her and her apology note and goodbye letter and thank you all in one.

(Ozpin does hug her after they write that and have Glynda let Jaune off from classes that day, strangely fond of this girl who understands him more than anyone but also takes none of his crap)

>The Four Who Finally Arrived: The sequel to the Tale of the Rusted Knight, featuring him surviving the original story, his long vigil coming to an end, and him returning home hand in hand with his friends.

>The Four Daughters: Ozma's own apology and farewell, memorializing his failures and regrets.

(Alyx gives him the hug this time, with Juniper purring. Jaune joins in, it's kinda his thing.)

>The Paper Pleasers: A Lighthearted Tale of a kind people who only want to beautify the land....... featuring the Rusted Knight in a comedic role for a change.

>Tales of the Ever After: A series of shorts and bits, telling fantastic blurbs about fantasy characters.

>The Tree and the Blcksmith: A creation Mythos story, featuring the beginning of everything, she who remakes others again and again, and two figures that become surprisingly important.

As the semester goes on, Alyx and Jaune call his family more often, and Jaune cajoles everyone else into doing the same. They argue a little, but eventually give in. Stupid himbo and his "call your family guys, cherish them!"

Weiss calls Whitley and Winter. It goes.... awkwardly. But by the third week of sunday calls, she could almost swear Whitley was looking forward to them. Odd. Stupid eyes, stinging when she thinks about it. And Winter is so, so glad to hear Weiss gush for minutes on end about her dorm's pets and her new friends.

Tai is relieved to hear his daughters are doing well and making friends. He's not so pleased to hear that their Uncle is apparently hanging around between missions, and says he might be hanging around Vale more himself. Weird.

Blake.... okay, Blake chickens out twice in a row. But the third time, Alyx slips in and presses the button for her before slipping out with a "Hi Mrs and Mr Belladonna, we got your daughter to call, don't worry we're keeping an eye out for her stalker, have fun catching up, bye!"

Brat.

But an hour later, Blake has red rimmed eyes and gives Alyx a hug, so she's not too mad.

Pyrrha calls her mother and, fortified with Jaune's hugs and everyone's encouragement, speaks about stepping back form her sponsorship deals while she's at Beacon and opens up about wanting to be more, feeling lighter afterwards.

Ren and Nora are dragged into Jaune's calls several times, and also Pyrrha's once she starts gossiping with her mother over things after their first call, and both will admit it helps more than they would admit to feel like they belong with these people.

And that's the dose of fluff. Tune in next time for Alyx's prank war against Cardin and Roman's second defeat at Juniper's paws (And Cinder getting rekked again, of course)

God. All the stuff about the new stories got me

Alyx not being quite as good a writer as her brother but trying SO HARD and wanting her new brother’s story to be told. Wanting his suffering to be KNOWN and talked about so it’s not like OG Jaune suffered for nothing

You’re doing great Alyx, you’re getting better

The Arkos meeting? *chefs kiss* Not lying to her because she deserves better than that? Pyrrha still rescuing him, but this time from his own self doubt? Top notch, all of it

ALL THE FAMILY CALLS!!! Blake getting reassured that her parents love her (because they’re the best). Weiss reconciling with Whitley and showing Winter that she’s loved as a person, because fight me they both need a hug

Tai being rightly concerned about Qrow because of the plot stuff that the girls don’t know about, but also taking it as prompting to visit his daughters more often. Because god dammit visit your kids, you know where the school is

PYRRHA SETTING BOUNDARIES BECAUSE SHES FINALLY GETTING THE SUPPORT SHE DESERVES!!! YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!!

Thank you for the dose of fluff. Can’t wait to see Cardin, Roman, and Cinder get wrecked

Also I can’t remember if the Blake Faunus reveal happened already, but if it hasn’t I can’t wait for that. Also can’t wait to see when/if Jaune’s whole deal is revealed

Because I know it’s not HIS trauma, but god damn with him going above and beyond looking out for everyone, I want him to have his break down and be supported by everyone he’s helped build up

#rwby #jaune arc #alyx #pyrrha nikos #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #professor ozpin #plotbunny au #mine #asks #anonymous

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patchworkgargoyle · 7 months

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oc fic: your smile is my antidote

For @ockissweek Day 2: Rain. It's a little late, but hey, I don't mind if you don't!

Featuring Dominik: transmasc OMC, mine Keziah: nonbinary/GNC OC, @stobinesque Technically set in a Stranger Things modern!au created by @steves-strapcollection, and also mentions his OCs Vinny and Sam! (If you like ST, Steddie, and excellent writing, go read his stuff!!) Rating: T for language || Words: 1,485 || CW: none Title from Antidote - Orion Sun

“I cannot make speeches, by fact if I loved you less then I might be able to talk about it more.”

Dom snorted as he finished twisting the root of one of Kez’s locs, the musky sweetness of beeswax heavy in the air around them. “Why are the love confessions in these movies so fucking dramatic?”

Their hair slipped out of his hands as Kez turned to look at him flatly. “You are complaining about drama?” ze said, equally as flat, and Dom narrowed his eyes a smidge before putting his nose in the air.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kez scoffed, said, “Yeah. Okay,” and ran zir hands through zir finished locs, the few golden charms they’d woven in clicking together. It’d taken them both the whole rainy day and multiple movies to get zir hair done, and Dom wouldn’t complain about it one bit. He loved the excuse to spend the whole day with his best friend. They didn’t get to do it as often as they used to, when it was just the two of them against the world, practically living in each other’s pockets.

“I don’t know why I agreed to watch this with you anyway, I knew you’d complain throughout the whole thing even if you suggested it.”

“The guy looks like Vinny if you squint! And the costumes are gorgeous, I wanted inspiration.”

“You could do a moderately convincing Mr. Darcy act. Broody, anxious…” Dom shoved him half-heartedly, glaring, but Kez just smirked and shoved him back. “You know I know you’re lying, right?”

Dom huffed and reached for the black nail polish, looking for an excuse to avoid looking at them. “Yeah, well, you could keep that to yourself,” he mumbled.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. Because you complain every time something romantic happens in every period drama and romcom we ever watch.” Zir smirk widened when Dom’s cheeks went red, and he frowned at the bottle in his hand as he unscrewed the top and started painting his toenails.

“And what are you implying, Keziah?” he asked lightly.

“That you hate that you love this romantic shit. I’ve known forever, but all anyone has to do is look at how you are with Sam to know I’m right.”

“You love it too, just look at you and Vinny,” Dom shot back, failing to keep from sounding sulky. There was no way he could get away with denying it like he wanted to, Kez would throw it right back in his face.

Kez just raised an eyebrow at him. “At least I can admit that I love it. Meanwhile, Sam will do something nice and vaguely romantic for you and you act all grumpy until you think no one’s looking and you start making heart-eyes at him.”

He bristled. “Oh, fuck off.”

Laughing, Kez sank further into the couch, entirely too smug as they cozied up under the throw blanket they’d claimed for the night. Dom shot zir a venomous side-eye that they pointedly ignored, so Dom pouted down at his toes as he finished painting them.

The movie played on and they lapsed into comfortable, easy silence. Kez had the blanket drawn up so high that their face was only visible from the nose up. Dom had long finished with his nails by the time the final scene began, and had pulled his knees to his chest, letting his chin rest there, arms wrapped around them as he blandly watched the wedding play out. He wouldn’t say it out loud—there was no way he was going to give Kez that satisfaction—but it was cute, he supposed, especially when Knightly furtively wiped away a tear, and they shyly reached for each other’s hands.

“Not a peep from you?” Kez teased, their voice muffled by the blanket. “Not even your patented ‘I Hate Marriage’ tirade?”

“M’not gonna give you another fucking excuse to roast me,” Dom said, earning a snort from them.

“I’m so happy to tell you that I will roast you until the day you die.”

Dom paused as he reached for the remote, giving her a sarcastic look. “Sounds like a wedding vow, Ziah, are you practising? Are we to be married on the morrow?”

“Can you imagine?” Kez cackled.

“I vow to be a massive pain in your ass for the rest of your days,” he declared, starting to grin.

Kez barked a laugh as they said, “I vow to affectionately call you out on your shit and also eat all of your snacks before you can, forever.”

“I vow to let you fuck me–”

“Excuse you, let me? You’re blessed every time I deign to fuck you.”

“Are you fucking complaining about my sincere, heart-felt vows? Rude—hey!” Dom toppled over, flopping onto the couch cushions, when Kez shoved him over with their foot. It took him so much by surprise he started laughing even as he immediately tried to retaliate and kick back. But Kez grabbed his legs and pinned them to the couch. He didn’t bother fighting back, he didn’t want to risk ruining his shitty pedicure.

Leaning on his trapped calves, Kez fixed him with a fond, exasperated expression. “You’re not a pain in the ass by the way. I mean,” ze corrected at Dom’s dubious look, “you are, but not all the time. Only eighty-nine percent of the time, and you’re worth it anyway because I love you, Nikki.”

Dom rolled his eyes out of habit, but a smile still pulled at his lips. “Love you too, Ziah,” he mumbled.

“You gotta say it louder than that at our wedding or else no one will believe you,” they said, poking him in the ribs hard enough to make him flinch.

“It’d be really funny if we did actually get fucking married,” he said, batting Kez’s hand away.

“It really would be.”

After a few seconds of silence, they glanced at each other. Dom could tell ze was thinking the same thing by the glint in zir eye. He almost couldn’t believe he was considering it, but.

Kez raised an eyebrow and tilted their head. “The party would be fun,” they said, and Dom hummed, agreeing.

“We’d throw a rager of a reception.”

“Just friends, so we don’t have to fuck with the guest list.”

Shifting so he could face Kez properly, he said, “And there’s no one else I’d ever consider getting married to, since you’re stuck with me for life.” He said it with a wry smirk, but he meant it anyway. Kez was the only person he knew, without a doubt, wasn’t going to leave. And fuck it, it’d be fun, and hilarious; a middle-finger to the idea of marriage that he, personally, enjoyed, and an excuse to get all their friends together for a big, crazy party.

They propped their chin on their hands and grinned triumphantly. “Awww, you do love me, you romantic,” they mocked, and Dom groaned, throwing his head back against the arm of the couch with a thud.

“Asshole.”

“You’re the one marrying me, moron.”

Dom opened his mouth, closed it, and then let out an almost disbelieving laugh. “We’re really fucking doing this?”

Kez laughed too, shrugging. “Why the hell not?”

“Well, alright,” Dom grunted as he sat up, “but we gotta do this shit properly.”

Scoffing, Kez slid off the couch and got down on one knee. Ne took Dom’s hand in nirs, gazing at him with an over-earnestness that almost made him laugh, and asked, “Mister Dominik Wood, would you marry me?”

Dom gasped loudly and splayed his hand over his chest. “Oh, Sir Keziah De Leon,” he said in a high-pitched and terrible British accent, “I would love nothing more!”

Kez bit back a laugh as they took one of the charms they decided to leave out this time, left in the trinket bowl on Dom’s coffee table, and squeezed it onto the tip of Dom’s left ring finger. He spread his fingers, assessing the new “ring” for a moment, before saying, “Hm. It doesn’t fit. Never mind, the engagement’s off.”

“Should’ve known you’d be a picky groom,” Kez snarked.

“Picky? I deserve–” He flung his hand out and the charm went flying, pinging off a wall and disappearing somewhere. “Ah, fuck, my ring.”

They both burst out into giggles, and even as Kez was bent over her knees, shoulders shaking, she wheezed out, “You—you owe me a n-new charm!”

“You owe me a new ring!”

“You’re the one who lost it, you dick!”

Kez’s bright laughter and genuine, delighted smile made Dom’s heart swell in his chest, bursting with love for his oldest friend, as cheesy as that sounded. He reached out, cupped their jaw, and kissed their forehead firmly. “I’ll find your fucking charm and cherish it forever,” he vowed.

“Good,” Kez said, pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. “You better.”

#ockissweek #ockiss24 #ocs aweigh #they're best friends for life your honour #they love each other so much #do not separate #(unless it's for the angst)#goth babygirl dom #keziah #niko's notes

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randomness-is-my-order · 9 months

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Late Night Conversations

– a PJO fanfic

a/n: soooo i’m a fic writer and by compulsion, i wrote a short in-between oneshot based on epsiode four of the pjo tv show! set right after grover wakes up with all of them still in their beds and it’s from percy’s pov.

rated: gen

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Who knew that sleep-deprivation could make Grover grumpy enough to start bleating? Not just any bleating either, but irritated, at-his-wits-end kind of bleating. I certainly didn’t. Then again, the long trip on the Amtrak train was making me grumpy, too.

Okay, so grumpy wasn’t exactly the word. Restless was. What happened at Medusa’s creepy lair was a close call and ever since then, I couldn’t shake off the jitters of nervousness. The absolutely wonderful, not at all ominous nightmare didn’t help any.

Though, my conversation with Annabeth had been surprisingly...calming. I knew we didn’t agree on things but I was starting to see her perspective on all the godly matters and I think she was starting to see mine. I didn’t understand how she wasn’t angrier at her mother, how she could settle for so less but maybe I didn’t have to. Wasn’t acceptance more important in friendships anyway? One day, I would understand her but for now, I could accept her regardless.

Yes, I thought of her as a friend, now. How could I not? She’d killed for me. That’s one badass peace offering if I’d ever seen one and there was no way I’d reject it.

“You can go back to sleep, Grover,” I said, hearing another grouchy tirade from my friend.

Grover leaned down from his seat-bed at the top, his eyes squinting, “I will if you promise to not start chattering again.”

“Sorry, goat-boy,” Annabeth said but I think she sounded the opposite of apologetic. She sounded – what was that word? Right. She sounded impertinent. “But Percy and I are in the middle of a riveting conversation. I have earplugs though. Do you want some?”

Annabeth looked at me from the corner of her eyes and I quirked a brow at her. Riveting conversation? That was one way to put it. I didn’t know she was enjoying our chat as much as I did. Maybe there was hope for us yet.

“Earplugs?” Grover repeated, incredulous. “Gee, couldn’t have given them to me before you two went ahead and disturbed my sleep? Why are you even carrying those around?”

Grover had a point. Earplugs didn’t exactly strike me as questing essentials. Then again, what did I know? I’d been a demigod for all of three–four days while Annabeth had a whole hundred page long résumé in being one.

“I thought we might have to sleep on the forest floor,” Annabeth said, as a way of explanation.

That was how it was with her, sometimes. She said things, these odd non-sequiturs, expecting me to decode the meaning behind them. Expecting me to have context or figure out the whole picture from small clues. Maybe her brain worked that way, but mine didn’t.

So, I threw her the seven thousandth confused look since I had met her.

Annabeth sighed, sitting up in her bed, her blanket still covering her legs. “There are creepy crawlies in the forest, Percy? Don’t you ever think about what would happen if they–you know?”

I blinked, “If they invaded my ears and made a tiny nest inside my skull? Wait, do insects even make nests?”

“Yes, they do,” Grover piped up, looking a little less agitated now that the topic was about insects. “And if a bug enters your ear, Annabeth, it won’t be as harmful as you think.”

“I’m not taking the risk,” Annabeth said and she sounded pretty serious about it.

“If a worm ever enters your ear,” I said, “scream your lungs out and either Grover or I will come and get it out.”

“Wow, thanks Percy,” Annabeth replied and I could recognise a sarcastic tone the moment I heard one. “That sounds very reassuring.”

“Don’t count on me,” Grover said, grouchy again. “I don’t feel inclined to help you in any way after you have so callously trampled on my slumber.”

“I didn’t know you could be such a drama queen, G-man,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Annabeth smiled, “Oh, you haven’t seen the half of it yet. We need to get him some tin cans soon or he will start chewing our brains out.”

Above me, Grover murmured reverently, “Tin cans... my beloved tin cans...”

“Is Grover an antique tin-can collector or something?” I asked. Having such an eccentric best friend was just my luck. Nothing in my life could be remotely normal, could it?

“No, no,” Annabeth said, her eyes shining with mirth. They were a pretty brown shade but sometimes I could see them turn just the lightest hue of grey when she spoke of Athena. I had a pretty whacky imagination though, or atleast that was what I believed so it was difficult to tell reality apart from a trick of light. “He eats the tin cans. They’re like gourmet food to him.”

“You’re totally kidding me, aren’t you?” I said, blank-faced.

“Grover, tell him.”

Grover looked over at me, still dazed as if commiserating over past memories and nodded, “She’s right. I’m a bit of a tin-can connoisseur but with me acting as a human for the longest time and then with all the chaos you’ve brought, I haven’t had the time to munch on my favourite snack.”

“Oh. Sorry,” I said, feeling guilty. “Maybe we can get you a coke at the next stop? Do you like the flavor of coke cans?”

“You’re taking this way better than I did,” Annabeth said, looking oddly impressed.

But Grover was frowning at me now, as if something I said had worried him.

“Percy,” he said, sounding very earnest. “I just want you to know that I really like the chaos you bring. So, don’t feel sorry.”

I smiled at him, a small one. It did feel good to know that my friend didn’t think of me as a nuisance. Grover always had a way of telling me things I needed to hear, just like Mom. Maybe his satyr powers were mindreading? Things would be so much easier if I could mindread.

The train lurched and Annabeth was thrown back in her seat from the inertia. I was still lying down so it caused my stomach to flip uncomfortably. After a moment, everything was smooth sailing again.

I yawned. Annabeth looked at me and I knew a wisecracking comment was incoming but when she opened her mouth, she yawned, too. And then, Grover yawned as well because ofcourse he did.

“Maybe we all need more sleep, huh?” I said, pulling my blanket further up.

“Thank you,” Grover said pointedly.

Annabeth lied back down, too, “I think you’re right. Goodnight, guys.”

I murmured a goodnight back and closed my eyes. There were alot of things on my mind, alot of burdens I didn’t want to deal with. I missed Mom and I was paranoid about a monster coming for us in our sleep. I was angry at my father and I was angry at Gabe and I was angry at the Minotaur. I didn’t want to meet Hades but I knew I would have to anyway. Thalia’s story was like a cautionary tale for me and I hated how small I felt because of it. There was a huge confusing tangle of emotions inside me but mostly I was just afraid.

But hearing the steady breathing of Grover and Annabeth around me, for the first time I felt like I could do this. That I could save Mom.

I slept.

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy pjo #pjo tv adaptation #walker scobell #pjo tv series #leah jeffries #aryan simhadri #fanfic #pjo fanfic #oneshot #canon compliant

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yoori-ya · 2 years

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It was late, and the sky directly above me was a nighttime black. As my gaze drifted towards the horizon, I was surprised to find the sky still faint with orange--the remnants of the sunset still smoldering.

Right, we're further down south. Sun takes longer to set.

It was pretty, but I've seen more stunning views. I'm still thinking about it though, so its sticking power is undeniable. Maybe I'm hanging onto the small jolt of joy from little surprises. Or maybe it was bigger than that. Maybe it was the music blasting, the little homes peering over the fence to take a peek at the jam, and the of connections with friends from far flung places tugging at me gently. All of that thrown into the beaker of a moment, and a drop of the dying day to transform it into something special.

II.

Someone behind the counter asked me a question about my tacos in Spanish. We were close to the border. Spanish was the first language here, but time and lack of use had ground mine down to an embarassing nub. I blinked a few times; the starter clicking, but not connecting to my language engine. "Uh." (Senior Ruiz would have been so disappointed).

Thankfully the gentleman standing beside me stepped in (let's call him Taco Dude). "He's asking if you want everything on your tacos."

I nodded vigorously. "Oh. Yes. Please. Everything."

"Si, todos," Taco Dude called out for me.

We slid our trays down the counter. Taco Dude then asked the lady making tortillas (henceforth, Tortilla Lady) something in Spanish, and she handed him a plate of grilled vegetables with a pair of tongs.

Damn, Taco Dude has the hook-up, I thought to myself, and maybe it showed on my face because Tortilla Lady caught my eye and smiled. She then asked me something in Spanish.

I blinked rapidly a few times again. "Uh."

"Do you want some grilled vegetables?" Taco Dude translated for me.

"Oh, yes. Please." And like that, I too was handed a plate of greased veggies on a pair of even greasier tongs. I peered over at K and K. They were never offered the grilled vegetables. This was definitely The Hook-up, I observed. Nice.

Taco Dude and Tortilla Lady also crusaded for me against El Jefe, the guy running the adobado station. His hands were stained red from handling the spiced meat all day and sweat poured down the crags of his grizzled face from standing before the open grill for god knows how many hours. El Jefe exuded Big Boss aura and even Taco Dude reverently referred to him as such.

El Jefe must have forgotten about my order or something, and Taco Dude tried to make doubly sure El Jefe knew I was waiting on two adobados. El Jefe just grunted like a bull shaking off a fly (but thanks anyways Taco Dude). At one point Tortilla Lady noticed I was still standing and waiting, and started talking shit to El Jefe about my tacos. I knew it was about me and my tacos because she pointed at me and I caught the words "ella" and "abodada" and "tiempo." She also looked and sounded pretty pissed.

El Jefe though was the supreme master of that slowly rotating, fat-dripping vertical rotisserie of pork, and he gave zero fucks whether he'd forgotten some small asian girl's abodada order at 10:30 PM on a Saturday night. He waved off Tortilla Lady's tirade with a flick of the wrist. Tortilla Lady looked like she was about to stab El Jefe with her tongs.

I stood there behind the counter, watching this clash of kitchen titans unfold and wishing I could remember how to say "It's no big deal, I can wait. Please don't get mad” in Spanish.

Eventually I got my abodada tacos, and the kindness of Taco Dude and Tortilla Lady have been immortalized on this blog.

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gentleoverdrive · 2 years

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(241/?) Those constant moves!

Thanks to the goofy business going around in this hellsite (affectionate) wrt Martin Scorcese's non-existent yet somehow more relevant-than-ever companion piece to Mean Streets that shall go unnamed, I decided to watch 3 movies yesterday, which was my extra day off work. And, like, can we stop pretending Aaron Sorkin is a good TV/Movie writer and not just a has-been that has stagnated for the better part of his career? ---- The first two movies were fun as can be: - Mean Streets, a legit fun and fairly re-watchable flick if you ever get in the mood for old crime dramas that aren't marred down by pointless (and let's be honest, sometimes harmful) nostalgia. - The Princess Bride, which remains a phenomenal, (mostly) lighthearted romp for the ages. ---- Again, both movies accomplish what they're out to do and are hella entertaining, even after all these years. For the third movie, my brother-in-law picked The Social Network and let me come forward for a moment: I used to like the way Aaron Sorkin wrote when I was younger, but damn does his writing age out terribly. Like worse than milk going spoiled. He's like Charles Bukowski, but without the transgressive charm that's at least occasionally fun on a re-read. ____ (From here on I'll basically ranting against Aaron Sorkin's writing style. if mildly irate, unnecessarily foul-mouthed tirades are not your thing, I absolutely understand and deeply apologize. I'll post something far more agreeable tomorrow. Feel free to skip this one.)

---- Like sure, I know that making an interesting movie about Mark Zuckerberg + the creation of facebook was a tall order as it were already, and in that aspect, Sorkin absolutely delivered because some things about the film are actually attention-grabbing, but goddamn, his dialogue is still as stilted and house-of-cards-esque as ever. ---- And like, it's fine, you don't need to write dialogue like everyone else, dialogue that feels natural or what-have-you, it'd be boring if everyone sounded the same. But holy shit, it feels like I'm watching Jesse Eisenberg, Justin Timberlake, Andrew Garfield et al and they're taking turns RP'ing as different aspects of Aaron Sorkin's psyche. ---- How has he remained a staple of television and cinema for 30 fucking years and the dude hasn't learned to write fun dialogue for either medium? It legit baffles more than a little bit. Like yes, I get that he started as a playwright, and it absolutely shows on his early films like A Few Good Men, Malice and the American President; the beat of a theater play is there. It's janky, but for those films, it absolutely works. The same mostly goes for his first TV series, Sports Night. ---- But holy fuck, I remember when I had to watch the West Wing with a couple of bosses to kill the time back in the 00's. Like the "walk and talk" schtick does a good job of concealing it, and the actors sell you on the dialogue well enough sometimes with their delivery (Allison Janney was, bar none, the best actor in the show), but holy shit was the West Wing consistently fucking terrible. ---- Anyway, my recommendation? Skip the Social Network and just buy the soundtrack, because not even with all the incredible talent on set and behind cameras (David Fincher directing, Jeff Cronenweth as cinematographer and Trent Reznor + Atticus Ross doing the soundtrack) does this thing elevate beyond mediocre, and it only further proves that Holywood will just never stop huffing its own farts until it's too late to correct course. Have yourselves a good night and read you later, alligator!

#diary #daily life of an old shithead #poison the well reference #the tropic rot was a perfect record to go on hiatus #ptw #poison the well did what few metalcore/hardcore bands do in their lifetime: they threw their crutches right the fuck away #mean streets #princess bride #the social network #like make no mistake: He does have some good ideas but they're all marred by the fact that he's terrible at dialogue #like he's often lucky that he has good-to-great actors to work with #because so much of his dialogue just does not hold up well #it's also hilarious that dude loves Quentin Tarantino and William Goldman and he seems to have learned nothing from either #aaron sorkin #movie night #sorta #rant

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starlightments · 2 years

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PREVIEW: chapter one

When Keith’s notorious temper lands him in major trouble at school, he’s forced to serve out his time somewhere even more nightmarish than detention: the drama club. Despite his determination to avoid the spotlight at all costs, an unintentional mishap ends up getting him not only cast in the show, but playing opposite Lance McClain, a boisterous and bright-eyed thespian who Keith just can’t seem to shake – on stage or off.

Language: English | Rating: TBD | Art Credit: here

FANDOM: Voltron: Legendary Defender

GENRE: High school AU, rivals-to-lovers

PAIRING(S): Keith/Lance

. . . . . . . . . . . .

It’s getting late by the time they roll into Keith’s sleepy little neighborhood, the one with the crooked power lines and flickering streetlamps lining the sidewalk, dead trees swaying high above the rooftops like shadowy claws in the night.

Adam drives with stiff precision and only one hand on the wheel. The other is busy massaging tiny circles into his brow, right above the wire frame of his glasses, where a migraine is inevitably beginning to flare up.

“Almost there,” comes his low, weary voice.

Keith, drowsing in the passenger seat of Adam’s decade-old Volvo, sullenly stirs to life. Sensation creeps back into him like moonlight through the mist, only harsher, less pretty: the rattling engine, his throbbing nose, that split second of startled realization when he looks down and sees dried blood smeared across his knuckles.

He misses the silence—and the numb, hollowed-out feeling that came with it—but at least Adam has the decency not to pry. Earlier, while Keith was waiting to be picked up outside school, palm pressed against his busted lip in a messy attempt to stop the bleeding, he had already braced himself for what he assumed would be one hell of a tirade, but aside from a half-serious quip about tossing Keith into a roadside ditch if he gets blood stains anywhere near the leather upholstery, Adam hasn’t uttered a single word until now.

One of his better qualities, really, in Keith’s honest opinion.

“Yeah,” he mutters, slumping in his seat so that he can put his feet up on the dashboard. “I know.”

At the traffic light, Adam glances over, concern hanging heavy behind his eyes as he drags them up and down the boy’s face, examining his bruises in that cool, clinical way he sometimes has about him. It makes Keith want to snarl like an angry wolf.

“Put something cold on that when you get home,” Adam instructs, leaning over and calmly knocking his feet back off.

“I know that, too,” snaps Keith. His scowl threatens to split his lip open all over again. “I’m not an idiot.”

The light turns green, and Adam shifts the car back into drive. “Well,” he sighs, “that’s debatable.”

A row of quaint saltbox-style houses comes into view. Most of them have gone pitch-dark by now, except for Keith’s, which still has a faint glow sneaking past the living room curtains. Of course, his brother is probably inside—waiting up for him on the sofa, clutching diligently at his phone—and even just imagining it puts Keith on edge, skin prickling all over, hot and itchy with dread.

“You’ll be alright, then?” Adam asks once he pulls into the driveway.

“Sure,” says Keith, shouldering his bag. “Thanks for the ride.”

“It was definitely not my pleasure at all, whatsoever.”

Keith finds himself hesitating as he reaches for the door handle. A muscle in his jaw clenches, protesting what he’s about to say. “Just—don’t tell Shiro.” Then, after a moment of reluctant consideration, he grumbles, “…Please.”

Adam’s lip curls on one side, like it’s a secret. “I doubt I’d need to, anyway,” he says, nodding at Keith’s nose.

Huffily, Keith takes the hint; he uses the sleeve of his jacket to wipe a fresh trail of blood away, and then clambers out of the car without any grace or regard for how Adam’s whole face puckers in disapproval. The Volvo swerves back onto the street in a spray of gravel, headlights fading into a distant, smoldering speck. Keith watches from the curb, watches himself get left behind in the gloom, before heading toward the light.

The way he slinks into the house feels like a well-worn routine. Every step is carefully calculated. He knows which floorboards creak the loudest, and exactly how to maneuver around them, but there’s nothing he can do about the screen door squealing shut behind him.

“Hey,” Shiro calls out from the living room. His voice just barely carries over the muffled prattle of some fast-talking infomercial salesman on TV, followed by the rustling of couch cushions. “How was your day?”

Keith swiftly ducks into the kitchen. “Uhh,” he calls back, yanking the freezer door open and rifling through it. Not that there’s much to account for in there—a couple ice trays, some frozen corn, and a carton of mint chip ice cream with a very questionable expiration date. “Fine,” is what he eventually settles on.

“Oh, really?”

He smacks a bag of corn over his left eye, and then closes the freezer door when, suddenly, out of nowhere, Shiro materializes on the other side of it. Keith jolts at the sight of him, feeling something go all tight and panicky inside his throat for a second, until he notices that lopsided little grin on his brother’s face.

“Because I heard it was…” Shiro takes an exaggerated pause here, tapping his fist against the bridge of his nose to pantomime a punch. “…smashing.”

Keith stares flatly with his one good eye as Shiro repeats the gesture, looking expectant, like his humor is impeccable and Keith is just being oblivious.

“Can’t cut the dad jokes for five seconds, can you?” he drawls. “That’s what you get for adopting a kid.”

“No,” says Shiro, dropping the act in an instant. He waves an arm at Keith’s disheveled appearance. “This is what I get for adopting a kid.”

As if to prove his point, Keith’s nose decides to leak again, landing with a quiet splat on the linoleum floor. When Keith glances down to look at it, even more spills out onto the front of his shirt.

Shiro sighs, slow and long-suffering.

“Sit,” he says, and Keith automatically frowns, bristling at the command before determining he’s too exhausted to argue right now, anyway, so he goes and hoists himself onto the kitchen counter.

This part feels like a routine, too: the fallout, the adrenaline crash. Guilt always comes after the fact, a delayed reaction, swarming in Keith’s chest like a secondhand smoke while he watches his brother get on his knees and wordlessly scrub all his bad, bloody impulses off the floor.

An apology buzzes around Keith’s brain, but this time, just like every other time, it turns to dust before it ever makes it to his mouth. He’s trying to figure out how to say sorry without saying he wouldn’t do it again—because he would, in a heartbeat.

He will not apologize for the kind of boy he is. The kind of boy this ruthless world forced him to become.

“Adam texted me right before you got in,” Shiro goes on, standing now, removing a first aid kit from the junk drawer next to the sink. “Said I should be prepared.”

Keith scoffs out loud, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. “Traitor.”

“Actually, you should be thanking him,” says Shiro. “Not many people would be willing to drive out of their way at this hour.”

“Yeah,” Keith mutters dryly, “Adam the saint.” The eye roll is implied. “You know he only did it ‘cause I’m your brother, right? Like, if he gets on my good side, then maybe you’ll finally get your head out of your ass and ask him on a date or whatever.”

Shiro startles so bad he nearly fumbles the kit right out of his hand. Watching him flush and fluster over even the slightest mention of his perpetual will-they-won’t-they with a certain fellow school teacher will never not be hilarious, Keith thinks, as his brother scrambles to compose himself.

“Wh—wh-ho-ho—wait, what. No. That’s…that’s not even—” Shiro starts, then abruptly freezes, a tentative little hitch tugging at his brow. “—I-I mean, why? Did he say something to you about…?”

Keith just smirks at him. He knows it’s insufferable.

“Nevermind.” Shiro shakes his head as if to recalibrate it. “Just—he’s just a friend, Keith, I’ve told you a million times,” he says, which isn’t a lie, but the faint hint of red still lighting up his cheeks makes it seem like one. His focus snaps back to Keith, almost accusingly. “Besides, how would you know? You just suffered a head injury. You could be severely concussed.”

“Right, yeah, I’ve been severely concussed for the past three straight years, watching you two dance around each other like you’re—”

“Aaand that’s enough of that,” Shiro blurts at once, crowding into Keith’s personal space, only to snatch the corn away and replace it with the cold, stinging press of a disinfectant wipe.

Keith jerks back, hissing, “Ow!”

“Uh-huh,” replies Shiro, undeterred.

“I said ow!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be so ow if you’d just hold still.”

He takes Keith’s chin between two fingers, not unkindly, but firm enough to stop the squirming. Up close like this, Keith can make out his brother’s expression in stark detail, every crease and wrinkle that digs into his brow. While Adam tends to wear his judgement boldly on his shirtsleeve, Shiro has always kept his hidden in the fine lines of his face. Keith closes his eyes, inhales loudly through his nose, and endures it.

“So,” Shiro says after a while, still rubbing at Keith’s wounds, “are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Miscalculated a right hook. It was a fluke. Won’t happen again.”

“Keith,” says Shiro, slower, sterner. “Why were there right hooks being thrown in the first place?”

Warily, Keith cracks one eye open. The guilt from earlier gives a nudge, a warning, pushing insistently at the space between his ribs, but Shiro’s gaze is gentler now. It’s a sort of familiar comfort that’s easy to fall into.

“Some jackass at school said some stuff, and I…” he admits in a rough, rumbling voice, “…I thought if I bashed his mouth in then nothing stupid would ever come out of it again.”

“Did he call you a name?” Shiro asks, quiet and careful, like maybe he already knows the answer.

Keith grits his teeth, then nods.

“A bad one?”

A pause. Another nod.

Shiro presses his lips together, setting the wipe aside with utmost seriousness. “Look, Keith, I’m not saying that little punk didn’t deserve it,” and he keeps his hold on the boy’s chin, tilting it higher, so there’s no choice but to meet each other’s eyes, “but you can’t keep getting yourself into trouble like this. There’re only so many strings I can pull at school before the faculty decides to suspend you for good.”

“Fine, then suspend me!” barks Keith, flinching away from Shiro’s grasp, all defiance. “I don’t even wanna be there, anyway!”

“Keith,” says Shiro. It’s soft but devastating. “We made a deal. Finish high school, or I’m not signing your application to the flight academy.”

The urge to yell comes to a sharp, shuddery halt in Keith’s lungs. He knows it’s useless. They’ve been down this road before, perhaps hundreds of times, and it always leads them to the same dead end.

His eyes have been pinned on the sky since he was ten, fresh out of his third foster home, when Shiro showed up in the clean-cut silhouette of his pilot uniform, collar starched, badges glittering like polished chrome, and Keith felt something burst to life under his skin.

That feeling follows him, even now. It keeps him up at night, wild with a longing he can’t quite articulate, counting the stars beyond his bedroom window and knowing he’ll never truly rest until he gets a taste of them on his tongue.

But right here, on this planet, in this middle-of-nowhere town, he’s stuck.

Grounded.

Keith swallows around the desperate ache in his gut. “Why can’t I just go now?” he practically whines, words slurred with the way his swollen lip puffs out at the corner.

“Because,” begins Shiro, “I want the best for you.” When Keith gives him an unimpressed look, he tries once more with vehemence, “Because accidents happen, Keith, and one day you might find yourself unable to fly, and then what’ll you do?”

Reflexively, his arm twitches—the prosthetic one, that is. Its metallic sheen catches Keith’s eye in the dim light, smooth and unnatural against the jagged strips of scar tissue around Shiro’s shoulder. Keith doesn’t have the heart, or the guts, to challenge him.

“I dunno,” he mumbles, shrugging miserably. “Be a teacher? Worked out for you.”

“Yeah, except you’d make a terrible teacher,” says Shiro. He offers a smile, small and rueful. “I pity the young mind that gets molded by you, mister right hook.”

He reaches out and ruffles Keith’s shaggy hair, which is annoying because it makes Keith feel like a little kid again, but it manages to break some of the tension, too, so he lets it happen. A laugh slips out of him as he swats ineffectually at his brother’s hand.

“‘Kay, so,” he says with a smirk, like he’s daring Shiro to do his worst, “what’s my punishment gonna be this time?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking you could stop by the auditorium after class,” Shiro tells him. “We could really use an extra hand with some set pieces for the fall play.”

An intense rush of horror sweeps through Keith. That is, in fact, Shiro’s worst.

“Shiro,” croaks Keith.

His brother perks up innocently. “Hm?”

“The drama club? Seriously?” Keith splutters for a moment, nearly going dumb with outrage. “Just—just—just put me back in detention like a normal person!”

“Oh, so you can punch another kid in the face like you did today? No, not happening,” says Shiro, packing up the first aid kit and tucking it back in the drawer. “I need you where I can keep a close eye on you, and I already promised Adam I’d supervise the first round of auditions tomorrow.” He throws a bright, sparkly grin over his shoulder at Keith. “We’re doing Romeo & Juliet.”

“Wow, so original,” Keith mutters, perfectly deadpan, as he slides off the countertop. “Also I don’t care.”

“3pm sharp,” Shiro calls. Keith, who’s already made it out of the kitchen, pauses on the staircase landing to flash his brother an unenthusiastic thumbs-up, then continues stomping up to his room. “I mean it, Keith, don’t be late.”

#klance #klance fic #klance fanfic #klance au #star writes

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fanficsfromyesteryear · 3 years

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Hi! Can I request headcanons for dating marcus (deadly class)? Thank you

HEADCANONS FOR DATING MARCUS LOPEZ ARGUELLO

A/N: Just a head’s up, I got a little carried away, so this is kinda long lol. Also, sorry this took forever! I’ve been suuuuuper busy lately :/ I almost had it done before work picked back up, but I couldn’t figure out how to end it. Anyway, I hope you like it!!

Before the two of you started dating, Marcus had no idea that you liked him, and for good reason

You did such a good job with hiding your feelings that sometimes even you forgot they were there, which was kind of the whole point

With girls like Saya and Maria around, sending out mixed signals and dropping subtle hints that they liked Marcus, too, it was intimidating

Add Marcus’s constant cynicism about love, and life in general, into the mix, and it was clear the chances of him actually liking you back were next to nothing

So, you knew it was probably for the best to move on

You used the “if you ignore it, it’ll go away” approach in the hopes that if you simply didn’t acknowledge your feelings, the problem would disappear

All this did, however, was create a whole new issue

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to take the thought process of ‘ignoring your crush’ too literally

You and Marcus were best friends, so when, out of the blue, you stopped talking to him, he could tell something was up

He had no clue what, though

Naturally, he assumed it was something he had done

Marcus started asking around among your mutual friends to see if they knew anything, but they were all just as out of the loop as he was

You hadn’t told anyone about your repressed feelings for Marcus, and you had no intention of letting the secret slip any time soon, but accidents happen

The truth came out one night during a game of truth or dare when you were up on the roof smoking with the Rats

Your confession came tumbling out quicker than you could even think about reeling the words back in

“You hear that, Romeo?” Billy asked, elbowing Marcus in the ribs. “Y/N’s got the hots for you”

All Marcus could do was laugh nervously as he looked down at his feet, refusing to meet your gaze

To your relief, no one brought it up again for the rest of the game

When the next day rolled around and your crush on Marcus still wasn’t the topic of conversation, you started to think that you were in the clear

Maybe they’d all been too stoned to remember when they’d woken up that morning

Your hopes were shattered by the late afternoon

As you left the bathroom, Marcus spotted you from across the hall

He quickly rushed over and caught you by the elbow, dragging you back through the doorway

“Relationships aren’t really my thing,” he said

Marcus sounded like he had more to say, but before he got the chance, you cut him off

“It’s fine,” you said. “I get it”

“No, no. I mean, I like you, Y/N, really. I just don’t wanna mess it up”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face even if you tried

“You’re not gonna mess it up”

Before either of you could say more, the bathroom door opened and Petra walked in

She glanced between the two of you knowingly

“Hate to break this up, but if I hold this piss in any longer, I’ll explode”

With that, she pushed past you both, effectively ruining the moment

It didn’t take long after that for you and Marcus to make your relationship official

‘Official’ is a bit of a loose term in this case

For the most part, both of you kept the fact that you were dating fairly under the radar for fear of what others would do with that information

In a place like King’s Dominion, something as small as caring for another person beyond using them as an ally was seen as a weakness that could and would be used against you, and the last thing either of you wanted was to be put in a situation where you were pitted against each other

Of course, there were several instances when one (or both) of you nearly blew your cover

Such as in Martial Arts class

Instead of fighting you, Marcus would try to cop a feel

You’d quickly smack his hand away

“Miss De Luca’s right there!”

“She’s not looking”

In defense of both of you, though, a class in which hormonal teenagers are asked to pair themselves up and wrestle is practically an invitation to break the ‘no sex’ rule

The other classes you shared weren’t any better

Master Lin caught you and Marcus staring at each other instead of paying attention on multiple occasions, earning both of you a smack from his cane

Although Marcus was somewhat known for his smart mouth and talking back to authority, he knew better than to challenge Lin, not mention that if he did, he’d risk exposing the two of you in the process

So, Marcus bit back his insults and held in his tirade until the two of you were safely locked away in his dorm room

“He had no right to hit you like that”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, shoving another tissue up your nose to stop the bleeding. “Besides, he does it to everyone”

“That still doesn’t give him the right”

“Next time, I’m gonna stick that cane right up his ass”

Marcus wanted to shield you from all the violence at King’s, but when it was coming from teachers, there wasn’t much he could do about it

If it was a fellow student pushing you around, on the other hand, there was no holding him back

You loved how protective Marcus was of you, but sometimes you worried that he’d get carried away

Marcus always made sure you were never around to witness the fights take place, but the scrapes and bruises on his face that hadn’t been there when you saw him that morning were all the proof you needed

In such cases, you would insist on patching him up afterwards

The first few times this happened, Marcus was embarrassed by all the attention you were giving him

After a while, though, he grew to love the feeling of having someone fuss over him, especially if it was you

It was nice to have someone care about him for a change

You weren’t much of a fighter, but making sure he didn’t get Tetanus was your way of looking out for him

When you and Marcus weren’t getting into trouble, you were actually a pretty cute couple

Your roommates became accustomed to the two of you being a package deal, which often meant sneaking into each other’s rooms after lights out

Sometimes, it was to make out, but other times, it was so you could have late night conversations that you didn’t get the chance to have during the day

The topics of these conversations varied—they could be deep and philosophical (which was Marcus’s favorite kind), an opportunity to open up to each other about yourselves and your pasts, a time to plot someone’s death (usually only theoretically), or simply joking around

After especially long days, you would accidentally drift off in the middle of these nightly chats with your head on Marcus’s chest, but he never minded

He’d pull the covers up on your side and wrap his arms more tightly around you

While both of you were perfectly capable of pulling all-nighters, whenever you fell asleep, Marcus was never far behind

The sound of your evened-out breathing was like a lullaby to him, so it was safe to say that his sleep schedule drastically improved after the two of you started dating

You’d found that you slept better with Marcus, too, so on the few nights you spent apart, you’d doze off listening to the mixtapes he’d made you in your Walkman, which were full of your favorite songs and songs that reminded him of you (though, these had quickly become your favorites, too)

It was rare that the two of you weren’t together, though

Even during the day, you and Marcus were practically joined at the hip

At lunch, you would hold hands under the table and share food

Of course, this always opened the door for plenty of teasing from your friends, especially Lex

“While you’re at it, why don’t you chew the food up for each other and pass it back and forth like little birds?”

“Fuck off, Lex”

It was always in good fun, though

Actually, the other Rats were relieved when the two of you finally got together because the weird tension that had been brewing leading up to that point went away, meaning group hangouts could carry on normally

They could overlook you sitting in Marcus’s lap if it meant you weren’t being distant and secretive

Just like they pretended not to notice when you showed up to class wearing each other’s blazers by mistake after spending the night together

Or walking in late looking ✨especially disheveled✨

All in all, you and Marcus are King’s Dominion’s cutest couple™️ that only, like, five other people know about, but still-

#marcus lopez arguello #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez arguello x reader #marcus lopez arguello headcanons #marcus lopez headcanons #deadly class #deadly class headcanons

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tsukishumai · 3 years

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pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky.

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out.

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace.

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously.

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift.

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly.

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head.

Semi Nude.

You blinked once. Then twice.

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands.

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe.

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway.

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant.

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro.

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way.

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes.

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream.

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs.

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin.

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing.

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind.

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden.

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home.

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out.

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you.

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.”

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!”

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you.

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture.

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose.

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles.

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear.

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves.

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.”

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you.

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest.

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip.

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb.

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze.

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought.

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you.

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him.

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing.

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani.

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t.

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year.

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected.

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush.

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs.

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning.

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.”

“No, I definitely know you —“

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto.

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door.

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?”

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder.

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out.

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket.

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder.

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.”

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door.

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in.

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare.

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen.

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door.

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?”

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.”

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door.

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift.

#bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto kotaro x you #bokuto kotaro x y/n #bokuto fluff #bokuto kotaro headcanon #bokuto koutaro scenarios #bokuto imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x y/n #haikyuu!! fic

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eliemo · 4 years

Text

Snake Bite

Summary: Janus hadn’t meant to lash out. He’d just felt too much like a cornered animal, and now they all had an excuse to cast him out as the villain once again.

Specifically tagging @anothersanderssidesblog and @wyvern-tales

Based on This Wonderful Post

TW: Panic attack, brief mention of blood, sympathetic everyone

At this point, Janus wasn’t even sure what was being said anymore.

He knew everyone was yelling over each other, and he knew the anger and insults were all directed at him, but right now he didn’t think he could focus on the words even if he wanted to.

And he supposed, if it weren’t for the weight on his chest and the pressure building behind his eyes, his sudden lack of awareness would be a blessing.

He just wanted to go to bed. It had been a bad week, one inconvenience piling up after another, and he was certain if he didn’t get out of this room right now he was going to snap and say something he would regret.

But Roman was still ranting, arms waving as he paced Thomas’s living room, and Janus knew leaving now would only make things worse. He’d let the Prince get it all out of his system, smile like it didn’t matter, and sink out until everyone calmed down.

He understood why Roman was angry, and perhaps some of it was well deserved, but the tirade of shouting seemed entirely unnecessary.

Sure, maybe Janus shouldn’t have disguised himself as Roman after Thomas had summoned his sides for help, especially since he’d begrudgingly agreed not to shape shift since his name reveal, but today there hadn’t been a choice.

No one would have listened if he’d come as himself. Everyone was still wary around him, and they all seemed extra suspicious around him this week. He knew it was because he’d been a little short with all of them lately, but it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been able to get a full nights sleep in weeks.

He’d been waking up every morning even more tired than he’d been when he’d gone to bed, limbs aching and heavy, and by the time he found the strength to force himself out of bed everyone had already been finished with breakfast, which ruled out any chance of friendly conversation or “bonding” as Patton so lovingly called it.

Not that he cared. He had absolutely no intention of sitting down for their little family meals, no matter what the nagging voice in the back of his head said.

Besides, he wouldn’t have been wanted anyway. Every time he so much as breathed Virgil would act like he’d just tried to set the house on fire, and Roman didn’t even try to hide his glares.

Logan just seemed uneasy, and Patton’s attempts to be friendly were so glaringly obvious and fake.

When Remus made his appearances, at least everything was honest and out in the open. Nothing could offend Remus, and besides filling Thomas’s head with less than ideal thoughts at night he didn’t really mean any harm.

Things were different with Janus, and he knew they always would be.

So, it wasn’t completely unreasonable that Janus was beyond tired and frustrated, and he knew Thomas was too thanks to his demanding schedule.

He needed a break, and Janus was determined to get him to see that. If he called off a few meetings, they could easily have the rest of the week off to recharge and Janus could figure out how to pull himself together.

But Thomas would never agree to a break unless his anxiety allowed it. And it didn’t matter if Janus was correct, Virgil would be caught dead before agreeing with one of Deceit's suggestions.

Virgil and Roman seemed to bond over their mutual hatred of him, so in a last ditch effort, Janus had disguised himself as the Prince and risen up with the others.

He hadn't meant any harm, and it had been going so well. Roman was distracted somewhere in the Imagination, and once he’d gotten Logan to see the logic in taking a few days off Virgil had almost immediately jumped on board.

And then of course Roman had returned just as they were wrapping up, the living room falling into silence as the two Princes stared each other down, and everything erupted into chaos.

Janus revealed himself, despite everyone already knowing what he’d done. He’d heard Roman shout a few things like “Villain!” and “Lying fiend” and the surprisingly hurtful “Why did we even give him a chance?” before he promptly lost the ability to make sense of anything happening around him.

He tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling to avoid having to see everyone’s stares (not to stop himself from crying, because he was not about to cry. He was used to being villainized, he didn’t care), and waited for someone to call Roman off.

But no one did, and suddenly Roman was right in front of him, jabbing a finger in his face, and Janus couldn’t catch his breath.

“You’re not even listening!” Roman shouted. “He’s not listening! What else have you been doing behind our backs you snake-faced lia--”

Janus didn’t even realize he was moving until his fangs were suddenly in Roman’s hand, fingers wrapped tight around Roman’s wrist, and he felt the Prince go completely still as Janus’s teeth sank into his skin.

It all happened so fast, Janus’s mind a frantic, racing blur as he pulled away, feeling horribly like a cornered, wild animal.

He had exactly two seconds to process what he’d done and collect his scrambled thoughts in the sudden, deafening silence before Roman seemed to realize what had just happened.

“He bit me!”

Patton was taking a step forward, and Janus backed away until he was pressed against the wall, wincing when he realized he could faintly taste something coppery in his mouth.

“Kiddo, try and relax,” Patton said, a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “I’m sure it was just--”

“What, an accident?” Roman demanded. “Patton, he bit me! Like- like some kind of snake-faced demon! Pat, I’m bleeding!”

He was barely bleeding, the bite nothing more than two little pinpricks, and if Janus could find his voice he would have pointed out that Roman was behaving like an overactive toddler.

But he couldn’t. Because he’d been trying so hard to make progress with the others, to be seen as anything other than a lying villain, and one bad day had just undone all of that, completely erasing any chance he might have had.

Because as small as it was, he’d just hurt Roman. In front of everyone. In front of Thomas.

He watched as Logan took the initiative, hurrying to Thomas’s side and guiding him over to the couch.

Thomas looked pale and panicked, which meant that all the commotion was probably making Virgil—

Virgil. Janus couldn’t even bring himself to look at the stairs, painfully aware he’d just see horror and disgust...and maybe a bit of satisfaction. The anxious side had probably been looking for an excuse to send Janus away.

“I’m going to die!”

Janus was pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by a very loud, very distraught Roman who was diligently ignoring Patton’s frantic attempts to calm him down.

“I find that highly unlikely,” Logan spoke up. “While the reaction was completely unnecessary, the likelihood of Janus being venomous is--”

“Was this your plan all along?” Roman yelled, and suddenly his sword was in his uninjured hand. “To wait until our guards were down and then poison us?”

Janus felt numb. “I did not poison you--”

“How can I believe anything you say? You were just masquerading around pretending to be me trying to ruin Thomas’s career!”

“I’m not trying to ruin anything!” Janus couldn’t keep himself from snapping back, feeling abruptly trapped and suffocated. He needed to get out. “I’m doing my job. I’m trying to help. Thomas needs a break- we all need a break!”

“You don’t help Thomas,” Roman snarled, letting Patton pry the sword out of his grip, his bleeding hand held against his chest. “All you do is bring him down! All you do is try to hurt him!”

“Funny,” Janus snapped, well aware of how much power his next words held. “I remember you saying the exact same thing to--”

Patton was suddenly beside him, resting a gentle hand on Janus’s arm, and Deceit felt like he’d been electrocuted. “Kiddo--”

“Don’t touch me!”

Janus yanked his arm away, frantically scrambling away from the wall and nearly colliding right into the television. The room was silent again, but that hardly mattered as he realized with growing dread that he couldn’t breathe.

The room was going blurry, his vision hazy and distorted, and it took him a moment to understand it was because his eyes were flooding with unshed tears.

“Janus?”

He was sinking out before he could even try to identify the voice, rising back up in his room with a strangled gasp.

It felt like his chest was being crushed, everything too loud and too much even in the solitude of his room.

He threw his hat across the room, yanking off his gloves with trembling hands and letting them fall to the floor, grimacing at the glittering scales along his left arm.

He hated them. He hated every part of himself that made him different, everything that proved he was just a villain. Virgil could be accepted as one of them but Janus had no right to...to…

Janus was on the ground, his legs no longer able to support him, landing hard on his knees. He didn’t bother to fight against the sobs tearing at his throat. There was no need to hide, locked away in the seclusion of his room.

He ended up hunched over himself, wrenching sobs tearing their way out of him, his hands moving against his will to tug at his hair, scratch at his scales, pound at the floor- anything to try to unsuccessfully ground himself.

Anger and sorrow were waging a bloody war in his heart- anger at the others for being so cruel, anger at himself for allowing himself to lose control and hurt one of them.

Sorrow because...because he knew it was over now. There was no way to undo this kind of damage. He’d tried- tried to be one of them- and he’d failed. Miserably. Really, he never should have expected anything else but...well, lying to himself was a bit of an unbreakable habit.

They didn’t want him here. And Roman was right, he didn’t help Thomas.

When had Thomas actually listened to him? Just once after the wedding? They would have come to a conclusion without him once Patton calmed down a bit.

They didn’t want him and they didn’t need him. Nobody wanted a two-faced, monstrous villain. He’d tried, he’d tried so hard, but…

Virgil had tried to duck out once. He’d been lost afraid and alone, but…

But he’d been needed. He’d been wanted.

If Janus sunk out it would be different. But maybe...maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Thomas would be an honest person without Janus and...wasn’t that what they all wanted?

He buried his head in his sleeves in an attempt to muffle his cries, the sobbing becoming loud and uncontrollable, and if he had a little more control he might have laughed at the irony of it all.

Crying over being the bad guy. God, he was so selfish.

He was just barely able to hear the knock on his door in between ragged, hiccuping gasps, but the sound made panic burrow further into his chest, squeezing until he saw spots.

“Go away!” He screamed, voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t- I’m...fuck! Just leave!”

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he screamed or yelled or hurt anyone, it didn’t matter if someone heard him breaking down. It wouldn’t matter if he just got a hold of himself and ducked out for good. The sooner they could all forget about him, the better.

But the door to his room was opening (he’d forgotten to lock it, stupid, stupid, stupid), and he quickly curled further in on himself, nails digging into his scalp.

“Jesus Christ, Jan.”

Janus shook his head at the sound of footsteps hurrying closer, flinching when someone grabbed at his wrists.

He tried to tell them to stop, to go away and leave him alone, but he couldn’t get the words out. Every frantic breath was more shallow than the last, and it felt like there was something beating at his chest.

“Stop fighting me, dumbass,” the voice said, and the shock at realizing it was Virgil was enough to clear his head for a split second. “Come on, look at me. Take a breath and look at me.”

Slowly, as Virgil pried Janus’s trembling hands away from his face, he carefully lifted his head to meet the anxious side’s gaze. It might have been his imagination, but he thought Virgil’s eyeshadow might be a shade darker than usual.

“Hey,” Virgil said with a small smile that didn’t match the distress in his eyes. “I need you to just focus on my voice right now. You’re having a panic attack.”

Janus shook his head, dropping his gaze to the floor until Virgil squeezed his wrists slightly, prompting him to glance back up.

“I think I know what a panic attack looks like,” Virgil said, once again with that small, unsure smile. Janus thought this might be the first time in months Virgil hadn’t glared at him. “I’m gonna help you. I’m right here, ok?”

It was all backwards- Virgil shouldn’t be the one crouched on the floor talking a side down from a panic attack, he shouldn’t be forced to be anywhere near Janus who clearly made him so uncomfortable.

All he was doing right now was hurting Virgil, hurting everyone, and this wouldn’t be happening if he just wasn’t here--

“Hey, hey hey.” Virgil was suddenly readjusting his grip to take Janus’s hands, bringing them to his own chest. “You’re ok, you’re fine. I want you to copy my breathing now, can you do that?”

“I- I can--”

“You can do it,” Virgil said. “You used to help me do it all the time, remember? In for four, hold for seven, out for eight, right?”

Janus swallowed and nodded, squeezing Virgil’s hands despite himself.

Virgil smiled back at him, and slowly began to count out the breaths, gently encouraging Janus each time he made it through a count, quickly reassuring him when he didn’t.

He sounded a bit like a mixture of all the light sides, and Janus briefly wondered how many panic attacks his new family had helped him through.

It felt like hours, but gradually Janus was able to begin to breathe on his own, his whole body still shaky and weak.

He took one last deep breath, and Virgil released his hands when he exhaled. Janus tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the loss of contact.

“You ok?”

Janus nodded, running an unsteady hand through sweat soaked hair, steeling himself enough to lie. “I...I’m fine. You can go now.”

Virgil scoffed. “Yeah, not happening. You’re gonna get cleaned up and calm down, and I’m going to sit here in case you need help. And then you’re going to let Roman apologize before he does something stupid and self destructive--”

“I don’t need an apology,” he snapped, and it would have been much more threatening if his voice wasn’t still shaking. “And I don’t want to watch you all force him to apologize for something he isn’t even sorry about.”

Virgil was watching him curiously as Janus attempted to get his half asleep, aching legs out from under him, furiously wiping at his soaked face with his sleeves.

He needed Virgil to leave and stop pretending to pity him.

“Why are you even here?” He’d meant it to come out as a snarl, but it turned into nothing more than a quiet, tired question. Virgil tugged at his hoodie sleeves, silent for a moment.

“You were having a panic attack.”

“Oh right, and you definitely care about that,” Janus said, finally pushing himself off the ground, grabbing his bed frame for support. “All of you made that perfectly clear today.”

Virgil moved to stand, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “I know, I’m sorry. We...I should have stepped in. Roman was pissed and he gets carried away sometimes. I was serious about him wanting to apologize.”

Janus cleared his throat and ran his tongue along his teeth, wincing at the reminder of what he’d done. He glanced back at Virgil, at the sudden lack of contempt or distrust in his eyes.

“I would have thought you would be thrilled,” he said truthfully. “Today is the perfect excuse to finally get rid of me.”

And Virgil actually looked...guilty. The anxious side had never been one for eye contact, but now he was definitely doing all he could to look anywhere but Janus.

“You lashed out because we all ganged up on you after a long week,” he said. “I’d...kinda be a hypocrite if I held that against you.”

“I disguised myself. I said I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“You did,” he agreed. “Because we made you feel like you wouldn’t be listened to if you didn’t, and I...I feel like that’s my fault. Jesus, you just wanted Thomas to take a break. So...yeah. I’m sorry I’ve been a jackass lately.”

“I…” he paused, clenching his jaw against the new wave of tears that threatened to spill over. “Virgil, I...I bit Roman.”

And Virgil actually smirked, like it was funny. “Yeah, and I know a panic response when I see one. Roman feels bad, Janus. We all do.”

Janus froze, wondering briefly if Virgil had just suddenly gotten better at lying since the last time they spoke. But his eyes were genuine, hopeful, and Janus found himself wanting so badly to drop his defenses and believe him.

“Look,” Virgil continued. “I don’t...completely trust you yet. But I know you want what's best for Thomas, even when we disagree. You’re a part of him and...and I know how it feels. To not be sure if you’re wanted. But...but you are.”

“Virgil--”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” Virgil said. “You’re gonna clean up, and when you’re ready Roman is going to set aside his pride and apologize, Patton is going to smother you for a few hours, and Logan is going to ask you a bunch of invasive questions about your teeth because he’s a nerd. I can tell him to back off if you want me to.”

Janus let himself smile, small as it was, and he watched as Virgil took another step closer, the anxious side finally looking Janus in the eyes.

“And then Thomas is going to take a break,” he continued. “And you are never ever going to consider ducking out again.”

Janus paled, cold panic returning with a vengeance. “Oh, please. You know I would never--”

“Don’t lie to me,” Virgil said, voice low, and Janus fell silent. “I’ve been there, Janus. I know the look, and I know what it takes to push someone over the edge. You can’t fool me.”

Janus sighed, running a hand over his face. He was speaking before he could talk himself out of it. “You did it.”

“I tried to,” Virgil agreed. “I was wrong. Thomas needs me, and he needs you too. Nobody...No one hates you, Janus. I’m sorry things got this bad.”

Janus just shrugged, pushing back the emotions he wasn’t quite ready to feel, let alone share aloud. But it was...nice, he realized, not being given the cold shoulder anymore.

He hoped it lasted. He missed Virgil more than he was willing to admit. He...wished he was closer to all of them.

“I’m not upset,” Janus said, even as he wiped at watery eyes. “It’s just...been a long couple of days.”

It had been a lot more than just a long couple of days, but he figured Virgil knew that. The anxious side smiled sadly. “Well then it’s a good thing you convinced Thomas to take a break.”

“I just hope it helps.”

“Me too,” Virgil said. “Now go wash your face- you look awful. I can hang out here until you’re ready to see the others. Unless you, like, want me to leave. I can leave you alone.”

Janus smirked, finally starting to feel like himself as he straightened his cape and made his way towards the bathroom.

“I’d really hate it if you stayed,” he called over his shoulder. “You know I absolutely loathe your company, Virgil.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Janus let himself break into a full smile for the first time all day, closing the door behind him as he heard Virgil flop onto the bed.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #ts janus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #angst #panic attack tw #sympathetic dark sides #janus angst #fanfiction #writing

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

RQ: He’s upset and needs comforting

Masterlist

Ya'll want angst? Because I have some angst.

Very hurt/comfort

Set platonically and within the group since there was no specification. Hope that’s ok! Sorry it took awhile, it got away from me again. I think this may be a trend.

Scenario under the cut! It’s super long so take caution!

Sky

It took a while for you to notice but eventually you do.

Sky has been acting weird all day.

It was only clipped responses at first, then it was was the lack of attention where Sky would have been the first to comment or act otherwise. What really tipped you off finally was how he seemed to be evading the whole group. Not necessarily stepping away and out of sight but he didn’t interact with anyone and when they approached him, he didn’t make eye contact, seemingly trying to cut the conversation short.

No one has said anything.

You mention it to Twilight about his out of character behavior but he says that it maybe a bad day, or he slept wrong, or some other reason that you stopped listening to because it didn’t make any sense.

Sky was always trying to be friendly no matter his mood and it took a lot to shake him up.

What was eating at the Chosen Hero?

Soon, the uncertainty begins to eat at you too and you wait for night fall, once everyone is asleep to strike.

Strike up a conversation that is.

Sky usually takes the last watch because he’s usually the first one out regardless of what activities for the day so you strive to wake up early.

It works for the most part, your internal clock doing what you want it to do when you blink your eyes open. Part of you begins to drift off again so you sit up and nearly fall asleep that way.

A hand comes up on your back and rubs a small circle. “Nightmare?”

It’s Sky and he’s looking at you with mild concern.

You smile and shake your head. “No. I’m alright but I think I’ll stay up with you if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company.” He moves out of your space and back to where he sat.

You follow, still groggy from just waking from your slumber but succeed in not stepping on any of your friends or waking them up as well with the added noise. you sit next to the Hero of the Skies with little fan fare and let the moment settle on the both of you before looking skyward.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look at Sky and continue star gazing even if they’re a little harder to spot as the sun travels closer for it’s shift.

Sky hums in agreement and follows your gaze upwards.

“Are you ok? You seemed a little off lately.”

Sky doesn’t say anything for the first few seconds and you suspect that maybe he didn’t hear you. With him spacing out so much and the fact that you whispered for the sake of your still sleeping friends, you’re inclined to repeat yourself but Sky answers in time.

“Just thinking a lot, I suppose. Nothing serious.”

“Yeah?” You don’t look his way. This is casual. This is friendly. This is not a big deal. “Rupee for your thoughts?”

“It’s not that interesting.”

You shrug. “Hit me with it anyway. It’s got to be something if it’s throwing you off your rocker. Maybe a new perspective will help clear some of it up?”

Sky frowns at your attempts, once again retreating into his mind. You let the offer hang in the air and let it sink in.

You’re disinclined to bring it up anymore. Your brain is still tired and you’re wondering your effectiveness when half of your thoughts are still muddled with sleep and fatigue. You could have totally slept in some more. What on earth made you think this was a good idea?

“Time mentioned something earlier that I can’t seem to let go of.” Sky begins.

You hum back and let him keep talking.

“I never fought this Ganon guy they all so talk so much about. I fought the God Demise. Before I could land the final blow, he cast a curse on me, on us, that some cycle would continue. His hatred would last forever and my blood line and Zelda’s will be cursed to deal with constant darkness caused by him.” Sky admits, looking now at his intertwined hands. “I finished him soon after that but... I wonder... Am I the cause-... Is this all my fault? Am I the reason that we’re all here right now? That everyone has gone through so much? So many thing happened that should have never occurred. Time and Legend and Wild have all suffered so much.... more than I can possibly ever imagine and it seems like it’s never ending. Everyone starts they’re adventures so young... If I had killed him sooner... If I had just got it over with... If I had just shut him up-”

“Hey.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, cutting off his tirade. “None of this is anyone’s fault. The only people to blame are Ganon and now, this Demise guy. You did what you could. You still got the job done and no one here will ever blame you for what has happened to them or to Hyrule. You were young too... you’re still young. Give yourself a little kindness and understanding, just as you do with everyone here. You didn’t deserve it either. It’s not like you asked to fight a God.”

“Well...”

“Sky you know what I mean.”

“I should have been faster. If-”

“There’s no use in worrying about what if’s.” You shove him slightly. “This is our life. Even if you ask, no one is capable of giving you the answers. I get it. It’s hard to know if the path you took is the right one if it’s all you’ve ever known and you can’t see where the other would have lead... But... Even if horrible things happen, I’m still glad to have met you. I’m glad I met the others. I’m happy to be here with you and with them, and I’m glad that it’s not just me anymore.”

You let the words sink in before leaning down wards and trying to get him to look you in the eye. “I can’t answer your questions. But what happened, happened and the best thing we can do is learn how to play with the cards we’re dealt.”

He take a deep breath and finally looks in your direction. “I know you’re right.”

“Naturally.”

“But I can’t help but feel responsible for being-”

“But you’re not responsible for their pain or any of this Sky. If Ganon has anything to do with Demise then it’s all Demise’ fault. His and his only. Understand?” You stress. “I wish... I wish I could do something more to help.”

Sky places his hand over yours where you still have it on his shoulder and sends you a small smile. “I know. Me too.”

Wild

“Zelda, would you please drop it!” You hear the Champion yell, his voice carrying over the wind and somehow getting louder. “We’ve had this conversation before and it’s not the time to have it again. I have things to do excuse me.”

Wild storms into his house and shuts the door behind, blocking it with all his weight and waits for the indignant shrieking on the other side to go away. The voice ends with a frustrated huff and after a moment of silence, Wild relaxes and steps away from the door and further into the house.

You’re almost scared for the moment. You’ve not known Wild to yell, even less so for a Link to be on bad terms with Zelda no matter the universe. To make matters worse, you were the only that was actually within the house at the moment and you weren’t entirely sure how to proceed from here.

“Trouble in paradise?”

That probably wasn’t the way to go, if you were being honest with yourself.

Wild groans, loud and exaggerated and sits at the table in front of you with as much fan fair.

“Do not...call it that.” He sounds tired.

“Sorry.” You amend with an apologetic shrug. “That-” You reference to the scene outside. “-Didn’t sound ideal.”

“No. It’s not.” Wild sighs and places his face in his hands with his elbows on the table. Bad table manners, a small voice in your head pipes up. But it’s his house, so you bite your tongue.

“Can I ask what it was about?” You hesitatingly venture.

Wild takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “I wanted to live a simple life.” He starts. “Everything was over now, right? That was the idea I had. Defeat the evil and get to finally live as a normal man. Maybe explore more of my home and show Zelda all the cool things I’ve seen and done. Everything I knew, everything I remembered is gone and has been gone for a while. No one alive misses it. No one alive even knows about it. This is the world they were born into and they wouldn’t have it any other way. I was prepared to accept that and join them.”

Your face twists in sympathy as you nod along. “I take it that’s the issue here.”

“When I defeated Calamity Ganon and reunited with Zelda, she seemed so full of hope and purpose.” Wild continues. “I saw it in her eyes. She wanted a different thing to what I wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

Wild gives you a pained look. “Zelda wants to try and rebuild the kingdom. Make it into what she remembers it to be. She wants to strengthen relationships with the other nations and reestablish the royal family and a whole lot of other things that I cannot begin to think of how long it would both take and last considering all the damage that already been done. She wants to be Queen. And over what? Hyrule Kingdom is no more. Can’t be a Queen without a kingdom to rule and there’s not a lot of Hylians left that would agree to being ruled over or even enough of them to count as a kingdom to begin with.”

“I suppose it’s not a bad goal to have but you do make a point.” You try and add to the conversation, feeling wildly out of your depth. “Does she know that you-”

“Yes. And she thinks I’m crazy for it. She thinks that I’ve given up on my friends and the past and the future and- uugghhh.” Wild leaned forward and slams his head on the table with enough force to make you jump.

“That look like it hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I believe you.” A small smile covers your face.

A beat passes before Wild continues to talk with his head still on top of the table. “I don’t think she realizes that I’ve changed after everything. Maybe if I had my memories to begin with, or maybe if I had managed to defeat Calamity Ganon sooner, I’d be more inclined to agree with her, but I’ve experienced so much and done so much that I don’t want to go back to how things were. I’m a different man now.” Wild looks up at you. “She’s different too but I don’t think she’s ready for that conversation.”

“So you’re stuck with this one?”

“Yes.”

“That sucks man.” You shift in your seat. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not if you can change the past.” He pouts.

“Shame. I’m fresh out of past changing wishing powder.”

“That’s not a thing.” He pouts even more.

You chuckle at the display before sobering up ever so slightly. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“What good will that do?”

“Maybe a third person party has to step in. It could be that it’s because you’re the one who saying that she isn’t listening.” You shrug. “I think you’re right but I’m willing to give her chance to tell her side of the story while you cool down in here. I can be a distraction so you can sneak out quietly and she won’t know you’re here anymore! It’s a win win! And maybe you guys can come to an agreement when you both see each other again with new perspectives.”

Wild gives you another tired look and leans into his hand. “I doubt it would work. Zelda is incredibly stubborn, one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. But if you think it would help, I won’t stop you. I’ve run out of arguments and I’m done hearing hers.”

“Ok.” You say getting up and moving around the table. “I think it’s worth a shot. There’s a saying where I’m from that goes, ‘it’ll all be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, then it’s not the end.’”

You give Wild a hug around his shoulder and squeeze him tight. “I have faith that you’ll pull through and get to live peacefully, but until then, you’ve got us on your side ok?”

He leans in your direction and wraps his arms around your own. “I know. I figured as much.”

“Good man.”

“I’m definitely sneaking out of here though.”

“That’s fair. Go hide.”

“I will... And thanks for listening to me. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Four

"I'm sorry, what?" Four snaps his head up to stare at the Champion.

"What?" Wild tilts his head. "What? There's no stuff in the grass in my Hyrule. Just crickets and lizards...you know normal stuff. I don't know why there's tools and rupees in all of yours."

"You don't-" Four cut himself off with a click of his teeth, a piece in his mind clicking into place. He stands suddenly, clearly upset and tense as he processes the information.

"Four?" You call out to him but he doesn't respond to you, nor does he look back.

"Four!" Hyrule calls as well. "Where are you going?"

No reply.

"I'll go with him. Just in case." You stand up in a rush and nearly knock over the equipment at your feet in the process. "Don't wait up for us."

You follow him.

Four is fast and quiet and it takes very little time to lose him- or rather, for him to lose you.

Before you knew it, there's no trace of him and there's nothing within the forest that would give you a hint to his whereabouts.

"Great." You hiss and look around.

Nothing.

"Four!" If he won't show himself, you'll just have to make some noise. "Four! Four! Show me a sign so I know you're not dead!"

You wait.

"Don't make me get Wolfie!"

Nothing.

"Four!" You scream a little louder and begin to run. Now that you've said it out loud, despite being a joke in the beginning, the thought of Four being dead somewhere spikes your panic and anxiety and it fuels your quest.

It's only been a few minutes and Four can handle himself just fine but you don't think about that.

"FOUR!"

"Why are you screaming?" A voice come just beyond you.

You sprint toward it and find Four in a small clearing, crouched down and appearing to hold something in the palm of his hand.

"I was calling you." You don't know how you find it in you scold him. "A response would have been nice."

"Sorry." He shrugs. "I was having a conversation, it would be rude to drop it."

You get on your tip toes to look around him and find nothing. "With... With what?"

Four looks down into his hand and places it, ever so gently, on the ground, pausing and standing up to see you. "You can't see them?"

"See who?" You step over to him. "Four? Are you ok?"

His face twists in annoyance before sighing. "I'm fine."

"No offence, but I doubt that."

"It... a group of creatures that can only be seen by good children. They were important on my quests and have helped me greatly. Children usually stop seeing them around the time when they turn sixteen."

"Would it be easy for me to chalk it all up to magic?" You bit your lip.

"Probably. If it'll help you sleep at night." Four sighs and looks down to the ground, a small smile on his lips before it twists into a painfully and... he looks seconds from crying.

"I did so much to help them... and they helped me.... They leave gifts in the grass to help travelers and us heroes alike and yet... Wild says it doesn't happen anymore..." Four gulps and looks away from you and what ever is by his foot. "They wouldn't stop.... They're incredibly kind and hospitable and... There's no reason for them... Why are they gone?"

"Four." You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

"What happens to them?" His Adam's apple bobs a bit as he sucks in a breath. "It just means there was no one to help them."

"Oh Four." You pull him into a hug and nearly crush him with it.

"There's nothing I can do to help them, is there?" He sniffles into your chest.

"No, I... I don't think so Four. Not that far out into the future." You shake your head and begin to rub circles on his back.

You don't think he's crying but he might be fighting it because he does begin shaking.

He doesn't say anything else and you're loath to let him go when he's so emotionally charged. So you hold him. You hold him for as long as he needs and you wait for him to pull away first.

When he does, you keep your hands on his shoulders and he stays within your reach. Four begins to take deep calming breaths with his eyes closed and you instinctually run your hands through his bangs and push some of the loose hairs from his face.

Minutes continue to pass and the sounds of nature around you fill the void.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I wish I could help you but I don't know how."

Four nods and rubs his eyes. "I don't doubt that. Thank you. I'll be ok."

You don't think he's ready to go back to the group just yet, not after all that. "Tell me more about these friends of yours. How did they help you? How did you help them? What are they exactly?"

It earns you a small laugh and he grins up at you with a watery smile. "Sit down. And let me tell you about the Picori."

Twilight

“You almost died and for what?!” Twilight screams at Wild for the umpteenth time.

It startles you to hear his voice reach such volumes but you’re inclined to agree with him this time around. After Wild’s stunt with taking a hit to the head for Wind, you’d been on the look out for his more... self sacrificing behavior. You knew he wouldn’t think twice to do it and you tried to make it so there wouldn’t even be a chance for him to make such a decision.

This time though, in this last fight, you took your eyes off of him for only a moment and that’s when he broke his streak of uneventful fights.

Twilight, of course, is livid and has no regard for the poor creatures of the forest that have to endure his tirade as he unleashes his concern and worry in the form of rage and over exaggerated gestures.

When Hyrule finishes healing your more minor wounds, you slink away from the soon to be screaming match since Wild is very much still conscious, if a little roughed up. You don’t intended to stray as far as you go but you don’t find it in yourself to care for the time being.

Being around so many people for so long is taxing. You make the executive decision to remove yourself for the time being while tensions are high, to both cool off and to avoid getting hit in the crossfire.

There’s a small creek nearby, you find, and decide to make a small space for yourself there until dinner comes rolling around. The birds and the babbling waters calm your soul and snuffle out the last of the adrenaline. You don’t know how long you sit there, but you can faintly hear the screaming match in the distance that you dipped out of.

You don’t regret it.

More time passes and you find that you may or may not have taken a small nap in the meantime. If the position of the sun is anything to go by.

Despite the pain in your back from sleeping against a tree, the slight ache in your neck from the angle you slept in, you feel better. Clearer, even.

You hope your absence wasn’t entirely noticed but you can’t seem to regret leaving either.

Footsteps creep closer to you and you huddle into a small ball out of habit to avoid detection.

It’s Twilight.

He walks near the creek and takes a heavy seat next to it. He looks both pale or red faced at the same time but exhaustion is laced in his entire body from what you can tell.

He doesn’t notice you.

You uncurl and set your legs out in front of you. Leaning forward a little, as quietly as you can, you see that he’s upset. It doesn’t surprise you. But seeing as you don’t how to deal with an upset Twilight and you can’t really sneak away without crossing his line of sight or making any miniscule noise, you still yourself and wait.

And wait.

Twilight calls your name. Quietly and hollow- like he’s not all there. Or in the way one would talk to a memory.

It’s immediately unsettling. Both in how he sounds and how he knew you were there without you doing anything. But you suppose Twilight can just sense things like that from times to time. It’s certainly not the first time he’s done it.

“I’m here.” You reply.

“How long?”

“A few hours I think. Longer than you were here that’s for sure.” You shrug and slowly crawl out of your hidey hole. “I think I fell asleep....The sun wasn’t over there when I first got here.”

Twilights hums in what you think is agreement but it’s really only a sound. “It’s a nice spot.”

You smile. It’s tense and little fake, but he’s not looking at you so you don’t care for authenticity. “Good thing it’s big enough for the both of us huh?”

“Yeah.” He looked into the distance again, noting that the sun is beginning to set and takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?”

“Can’t say that I have.” You move closer to him, aiming to sit by his side. “I’ve always enjoyed sun sets and I find them calming to watch but hearing someone finding them sad is a new one. Do you feel sad as dusk falls?”

He hums again. “They say it’s the only time their world interacts with ours.”

“Whos?”

“Lingering spirits I suppose...” Twilight tilts his head upwards before twisting it to look at you. “It’s nothing. I’m just reminiscing about my life before my adventure is all. My... father told me those words and I haven’t forgotten them since.”

You hum this time and lean back to mirror him. “Wanna tell me why?”

“That Champion reminds me so much of myself and yet... he’s ten times worse.” Twilight falls backwards with a soft thump. “I know why he does it but I...”

“You care about him and don’t want to see him hurt.” You shrug. “It’s not exactly a new concept.”

“Tell that to him.”

“Maybe I will. He gets just as upset as you do when this happens, you know.” You shift your weight to make it easier to stand up later.

“Does he? You’d think that he’d get the point to stop doing then.” He growls.

“Maybe he’s scared of losing more friends.” You blurt before you can stop yourself. That was something Wild told you in confidence and while he didn’t say you couldn’t tell anyone- that was kinda implied.

Twilight stills for a moment, the fight leaving him again in a single breath as he considers your words. They don’t seem to be new news to him.

Wild is pretty close to Twilight...Maybe he already knew.

“I still think I’m entitled to not like it.” He settles.

“It’s not he’s asking you to be ok with it. I know I’m not.”

“I guess that’s fair then.” Twilight sits up again and stands up in one fluid motion that you envy. With a turn on his heel, he holds his hand out to you to take.

You take it and feel him effortlessly lift you off of the ground with that one hand.

You don’t comment on it.

“Come on.” He says. “I’m going to need you for moral support.”

“Why?”

“If I yelled in front of him of the whole group, I should apologize to him in front of the whole group.” He admits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “But I might need an excuse to get close to him again after all the things I’ve said.”

“I get your desert and you’ve got yourself a deal. I left to not get involved and here you are... involving me.” You tease. “I demand payment.”

“One desert? I can do that.”

Hyrule

“I can’t do this.” You snap your head to the sound of the voice and see Hyrule with his arms cross and shaking.

“What? What’s happening? Hyrule?” You step closer to him as you’re the only one within arms reach. “What do I need to do? How can I help?”

“There’s nothing. Nothing you can do, that can make this better.” Hyrule takes one ground step before throwing his arms down. “Don’t you see them? With all their tools and experience and then there’s- me. Just me. Some magic later and a old man with a sword and I found myself trying to save my princess and defeat some evil, but these guys...”

You look around, trying to see if Legend or Sky are close enough to give you back up, or better yet, take over. You suppose it’s better than a panic attack but it’s so left field that you’re stunned and floundering to catch this hot potato of a conversation.

He keep talking.

“For all that is good and holy, they are heroes. Do you see them? Some of them have training, and families and skills and I....was just a boy in a grave yard. How can I even compete with them? I don’t, that’s how. But how can they consider me an equal? When I was in town and listened to the elders and their stories, they would tell me of a legendary hero from the past who courageously defended our home until the very end and who was virtually undefeated in all his adventures. And then I meet Legend....and he’s so much cooler than all those stories combined.”

“Link.” You call out to him and back to the real world. “You need to slow down for me honey because you’re too fast for me to keep up. What do you mean how can they see you as an equal? You defeated Ganon just as they did. You stood up for your home just as they did. You did it all on your own just as they did. Why wouldn’t they consider you an equal? No one cares about where you’re from, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“But they can do so many things even without the sword!” He exclaims. “They all have a place to go to, a person who cares about them, a title or a skill and a world that’s not on the brink of collapse-”

“Ok, whoa, hey.” You step into his space and take his face into your hands, bringing it up for him to look you in the eyes.

“I have no idea what brought this up but I won’t stand for anyone talking bad about you. And that includes you. We... can talk about your home with clearer heads later, ok? Maybe the others can help with that when we get there, yeah? And well....” You’re sinking. You don’t know what to do with all this information and you have even less of an idea about how to address it.

“Good golly, when it rains, it pours with you lot, doesn’t it?” You hiss under your breath and bite the bullet. With a strong grip, you wrap your arms around the Traveler and pull him close. You try to keep your grip strong without fear of hurting him, but it hits you then how thin he is. How light he actually is. You can feel the hint of armor under his tunic and it does little to quell your fears.

“Clearly there’s a lot on your mind. And... I’m probably not the person to help you through this. If you want to talk about not belonging though, I’m free to listen. I’m the only one here who’s not a Link, if you haven’t noticed.” You try to joke but it falls a little flat. “You though... You belong here with all of us... all of them... And if you need more convincing then I’m bringing this up with Legend who’s is over the moon proud of you and what you can do and he told me himself that he couldn’t be happier to have you as his successor-”

“Really?”

“Not in those exact words admittedly,-” You gulp as the word vomit continues to bubble out of you in waves of panic. “-but I know that’s what he meant because he doesn’t stop talking about how cool you are.”

“Hm.”

“And everyone has a different background, ok? Everyone has skills and people that the others don’t have. That’s ok. It’s not a competition. I get worried that one day you guys are going to create some game out of all your trauma. Like... who had it worse and just go around in a circle listing off all the things that happened to each of you... Whoever runs out of things to say or can’t think of something as bad or worse than the others is out. Last man standing wins.”

“Don’t give them ideas.” You feel him chuckle. It’s breathless and small and it doesn’t reach your ears despite your closeness but you feel it.

“Good thing it’s just you and me right now.” You sigh a little in relief and loosen the hug. “Look, just.....whatever you think you can’t do, just know that there is someone who is confidently doing it wrong right now. In the group or not, just keep your eyes and watch. They don’t plan on doing it better either and people are celebrating them for it. Please believe in your own excellence as much as they believe in their mediocrity.”

“Big words.”

“You’re awesome for trying. Others are not and don’t plan to. You’re already better than them.” You amend, stepping away to look him in the eye again. “The group can’t do magic like you can. That’s all you. They all have items sure but no one can do what you do... and you’re self taught, right? That’s incredible! You have just as much as a reason to be here as the others. I swear it.”

Hyrule sighs and gulps. He doesn’t believe you. It’s not enough.

You knew it wouldn’t be and it’s definitely doesn’t scratch the tip of the iceberg of the bomb he just dropped on you but... step by step. Little by little. you have a plan.

“Screw it. Let’s catch up with Wind and Warrior and get them to tell you how awesome you are, since you won’t listen to me. And if you’re still a nonbeliever then we move on to the next pair. We’ll go down the line if we have to.” You nod and grab his hand, beginning to drag him along.

He laughs after you, a little hysterical and in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

“That is not new information.” You reply, hiding your grin. “I say it’s Hyrule loving hours and I’m gonna get everyone to join.”

“You’re not joking are you.” It’s a statement. He already knows the answer.

“Nope!”

Legend

It was your turn on watch for the night. In an hour or two you were supposed to wake the Veteran for his shift and finally catch some sleep.

The others snored and slept away without a care in the world. It was just you and cackling fire that was active but you’d kill for something to help your mind get passed the boredom.

Anything but monsters or an attack that is. You’d hate to jinx your good luck so far.

In the corner of your eye, while fighting to keep your head up, you see Legend shift. Not necessarily unusual. You’re inclined to ignore it.

But then he shifts again, whimpering like he’s been hurt and a white knuckled grip on the blanket.

You still and begin to wonder what’s your level of care here.

Part of you, in kindness, wants to go wake him. The lack of sleep seems more merciful than letting him suffer a prison of his own making.

But you also don’t know how he’ll react.

You know he’d hate to be seen as weak for whatever normal reason and he’s been inclined to wake up swinging in the right circumstance.

Twilight suffered a broken nose for the whole night because he was disinclined to wake up Hyrule or take a potion.

Not you’d make the same decision and suffer the whole night in the same manner but it certainly fails to sound appealing.

Just as your about to appeal to your better nature and force yourself to go wake him before it gets worse, he shoots up into a sitting position with a strangled scream. The job seems to have been done for you- but in the worse way.

He’s breathing hard with his hand gripping his chest. Legend begins to frantically look around and slowly begins to piece together where he is and what’s happened. He never looks behind him, where you are, before running a hand through his hair a little harder than you think reasonable and getting to his feet.

You cough slightly, leaning away from the fire and back into previous position. You hadn’t realized you leaned into his direction as you watched him, inches from putting your face into the flame.

He startles at the sound and whips around, one hand poised to reach the sword he’s not equipped with.

“It’s just me.” You wave. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He calms somewhat and you can see his jaw flex. “Well, goodnight to you.”

His voice is croaked- from disuse or an overwhelming emotion, you’re not sure.

“For me maybe. But you? That was quite a scare you gave me as well.” You play it off. You can at least pretend that you weren’t watching him. That you would have saved him a little earlier and took your sweet time doing it. You offer a peace offering to your morals. “Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” He snaps, furiously rubbing his face. “It’s nothing new. We all deal with it one way or another.”

“True. But it’ll be easier to let it go, and let the experience float up into the air and never return. Otherwise it’ll fester and grow.” You shrug. “But I won’t force you. I know you’re not exactly fond of me.”

Legend glares into the fire as you talk and refuses to look at you. Once you finish though, he moves his head away, still not in your direction but visually drops more tension from his shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything.

“There’s a spot next to me with your name on it if you want it.” You offer. “A little company wouldn’t hurt.”

He takes more time to respond and you resolve to go back to staring at the fire.

A moment or two passes and you hear the faint sound of crunched foliage. It takes of your will power to not look up as he approaches and even more so when he decidedly sits next to you.

The fabric of his tunic brushes your leg for a minute and it strikes you odd that he sat that close despite the rest of the log at his disposal.

It must have been bad if he wants to be close to someone right after. The thought enters your mind. Once it’s there you don’t chase it away and instead casually lean back with your hand behind you.

If the angle causes you to lean closer to him in the process, you don’t say anything.

And if Legend notices, he doesn’t say anything either.

A moment of time passes in silence, the only sounds through the whole forest are crickets and a passing owl with the occasional whisper through the trees.

“How do you do it?” He asks.

“Do what?” You tilt your head in his direction.

He’s still not looking at you.

“Keep going.”

The answer shocks momentarily but you’re not surprised that it’s coming from him out of the whole group. “Legend-”

“I’m tired.” He says instead. “I hate this. I hate that sword. I hate that pig demon. I hate that I can’t be done.”

You hand comes up to his shoulder and you force him to look at you.

He lets you and he looks up to you with tears building up in his eyes and for a moment you’re struck by the odd balance of how old he sounds but how young he looks- is.

You stuck floundering for a response to answer him with but he asks one more thing. “Why can’t I be done?”

You pull him into a hug before you can stop yourself. “I don’t know. I don’t know Link.”

You find yourself wanting to cry as well once Legend collapses into the hug. He’s not hugging you back but he’s being held for the first time in... you don’t know how long. Your grip tightens.

“But I do know is that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And maybe....maybe this is the final fight. That’s why we’re all together right? A darkness so evil ahead that every hero is required and then....rest. For each and every one of you.”

You sniffle, carding your fingers through his hair without a moments hesitation. “If it’s not then I’ll fight everything for you from then on. I’ll take your place you hear me. I’ll take your job and title and you won’t have to do this anymore.”

“I’m the Hero of Legend. That’s not exactly an easy thing-”

“No. I am the hero now. I’ve decided it.” You hide the tears in his hair to the best of your ability.

Legend snorted, loud and wet but you elected to ignore it just as you were ignoring the ever growing wet spot on your shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It does now. I said so.”

A beat.

“...Ok.” He sniffled and rubbed his head on your shirt. He took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the night take over the atmosphere again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He nods once, definitive and final. Your expecting him to let go now and return to his roll, already electing to take over his shift as well and just push through the next day.

Except he doesn’t.

Legend calls your name, testing the waters and lifts his head up ever so slightly. “...It’s not that I’m... not... fond of you-”

“Save it for a rainy day.” You grin. “I think you’ve had your fill of emotions for the night.”

He nods and eventually slips into sleep with his head on your chest, no doubt lulled by your heartbeat.

With tearful eyes, you stare back into the fire.

Time

Time marched from the stunned group the same way a parent does after making a scathing remark instead of a lecture.

You know the one.

“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.”

The poor boys suddenly didn’t know what to so with themselves or how to get back into Time’s good graces.

You felt for them and their awkward meandering through the camp. So, with your pride swallowed, you follow in the vague direction where Time went off to and decided to at least talk him down.

He is... decidedly harder to find than you previous imagined.

Just as your starting to think the Old Man doesn’t want to be found, you hear subtle swing. It’s to your left and it sounds heavy.

So naturally you follow it

Which leads you to a small clearing just beyond a bunch of bushes.

Time is there, full armor still on and swinging his giant sword forcefully, each swing stronger than the last. It’s as if it weighs only as much as Four. You’ve wondered in the past what it would like if he decided to actually throw the smallest ones of the group but out of fear, do not voice your ideas.

Just because Time won’t doesn’t mean that the others won’t try.

It’s hard being the responsible one when there are nine Links to take care of, each as much as a gremlin as the last. It must be hell on Time’s back to carry the group.

You see where he’s coming from and yet...

“You can stand to be a little more patient with them.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can actually stop them.

Time stops abruptly, in both the figurative and literal sense, before the man turns to you with that same face of neutral disappointment.

“They are heroes.”

“They are also children, Time. I think that it’s because they are heroes that they deserve to act their age every now and then.”

“Slacking won’t divert the evil away from our home.”

“Running face first into the problem won’t solve it either.” You sigh and walk up the man. He tenses as you approach and slowly lets his weapon down. The Hero of Time is an intimidating creature but you refuse to let that dissuade you.

“Look, I know why you’re upset. I get it. It’s hard to get a job done when you feel like you’re the only one it’s important to... But have a little faith in our group. Please.” You plead and stop right in front of him. You have to look up at him slightly due to the angle but he was forced to acknowledge you here.

His arms cross and he opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off.

“You’re right, they are heroes and there is a job to be done and an evil to be done away with. But they were even younger when they earned the title. They still vanquished the darkness even for their age. You have to trust that they will do the same here.” You reach up and put your hands on his shoulders, getting onto your tip toes to look him in the eye better. “And they will. Because they are heroes. Because they have the spirit of courage. Because they are Link... Just like you.”

He softens his stance ever so slightly but he still doesn’t look pleased.

“It’s not easy I know.” You get down again. “But they look up to you. I think all of them do. And I can’t stand to see how hurt they look when you get upset when they act their age. It’s not like they can help it.”

He takes a deep breath and uncrossed his arms. He takes a minute to respond. Time stared at you intensely before he drops all the tension in his body and finally lets his weapon go. A single hand comes up to pat your head.

“Let’s head back to camp.”

He says nothing else and continues to walk past you and back the way you came.

You don’t ignore the sense of accomplishment and refuse to dampen it when you catch the tiniest slivers of a smile before he turns away from you completely.

Wind

You’re lying peacefully on the dirt when you hear someone sit beside you with more power than would ever be needed.

You don’t open your eyes for the sake of the other person, not really thinking much of it and even forgetting that they were there until you heard the smallest of sniffles.

Now, you’re sitting straight up with wide and concerned eyes locking directly onto the crying form of your beloved pirate.

It’s hard not to feel for him and while you’re not sure what sprung this up, you don’t have it in you to turn him away, or to ignore that he was upset.

Neither of you say anything and you’re almost afraid it make the picture in front of you a little too real.

Instead, you move yourself closer to him and open up your arms.

Wind doesn’t hesitate to throw himself onto you and let his body sag with unwanted emotion.

As sobs silently rack his body, you begin to feel yourself rock back and forth for both his comfort and yours. Soon you start running your hands through his hair and rub small circles on his back.

He cries for a long time and never once gives you a clue why.

You don’t ask either.

Still, once the moment has passed, you continue to hold onto him. He doesn’t make any moves to let go of you any time soon and you’re happy to be there for as long as he’ll let you.

That doesn’t stifle your concern over the cause but you’re loath to bring it up.

Minutes pass with the boy in your arms and it’s only when you shift positions, does he look up at your face. His eyes aren’t as red anymore with the amount of time that’s passes since he’s stopped crying but his face is still a little puffy and his cheeks are both stained in tears and incredibly red.

A small smile creeps onto your face when you look back at him. “Feel better?”

“A little.” He admits and sniffles the last of the tears away, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Thanks.”

“For you? Anytime.”

Warrior

It struck you as odd that it was dinner time the group seemed to be missing someone.

Earlier that day the group had split up to take down some troublesome monsters on the border of some tiny town defenseless town and that was that.

It didn’t seem like big deal nor was it a particularly hard thing to do. The monsters weren’t infected and they didn’t have numbers on their side so your group took care of the pests in a matter of moments.

And yet, when everyone regrouped there was a visible tension.

Some thing had happened on the other side of the fight and no one wanted to fess up, even less so when Time mentioned it.

It worried you.

Now, as it stood the tension was still there but Warrior didn’t want to come out of the wood work. He had left earlier claiming to need to check up on his appearance and no one had questioned him. No one offered to go with him.

It was always dangerous to go alone.

“Hey, has anyone seen Warrior?” You glance around again, hoping it was just a miscount on your part. “It’s been awhile since he left.”

“He takes his sweet time.” Legend snapped. “And you know how narcissistic he is. He’s probably trying to get every single little hair in the right place and working out every little blemish in his stupid uniform-”

“I’m going to look to him.” You stand, placing your cooling food down by your foot. You don’t know what happened or what caused it but at least an idea begins to form. “It’s been too long regardless. Keep my food warm for me, yeah?”

You don’t wait for a response and walk away into the tree line where you think Warrior might be.

“It’s getting dark. Be careful.” Someone calls from behind you, mouth clearly full of food.

“Yes sir.” You reply.

You march on.

When you’re sure you’re far enough away, you begin to call out to Warrior.

It takes a minute to get any results but you’re starting to worry about your friend. The sun is lowering in the horizon as time goes by and you’re beginning to feel silly and frustrated and-

“I’m here.” A tired voice replies.

“Oh thank goodness.” You cross the distance between you two. “I was really starting to worry.”

Warrior puts on a brave face and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes greets you when you stop in front of him. His look a little puffy and you think his eyes might be a little red but it easily be the lighting- or lack there of.

“Are you ok?”

“Obviously.”

You doubt him and it must have shown on your face because he immediately begins walking away. “Well look at the time. Crazy how fast the sun goes. Let’s get back to the group and eat. I’m starving-”

You grab his wrist as he pasts you and get a good look at him. “Are you ready to go back to the group? They can wait a little longer if you want them too.”

It irritated you that it’s come to this. How no one went to check on him. How no one offered to go with you. How no one seemed bothered by this. How long that he was alone dealing with something that’s been bothering him. How it took you so long to do something.

“No. It’s fine.” He says. Lying. It must have really bothered him, usually he’s better than this. “It’s about time to head back anyway.”

“They can wait.” Your grip tightens. “The sun can wait. We’re not obligated to be there. What’s wrong? ...If you want to talk about it that is...” You trail off uselessly. It only occurred to you that near the end that he may not even speak about with you. You weren’t the closest in terms of grouping but you can’t stand the thought of someone hurting alone.

“I’m fin-”

“You look like you were crying.” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to talk about it with me, that’s fine, just say it. But you might need more time before you head back anyway if you actually want them to believe you when you say you’re fine.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Warrior?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“If it bothers you then it’s not nothing.” You push. “But....fine. I won’t force you to talk to me. I just wanted to see if you were ok... You’re not but it’s better than seeing you bleeding I suppose.” You grit your teeth, annoyed by the lack of results. You did tell him that he didn’t have to talk to you and you don’t hurt him further but part of you wants to fix this. Even if you don’t know what it is, your heart calls for justice at his pain.

But he is unwilling.

“Camp is this way by the way.” You mention, looking at the ground. “You were actually farther away than I thought, so it’s a bit of a walk.”

“I just think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.”

You still and slowly turn to face him.

He’s looking at the ground as well, unable to say it and look you in the eye. It’s not what you were expecting and you’re not sure how to follow after that.

It’s a rare moment of vulnerability for him- even rarer that he’s showing it to you and you don’t want to squander the show of trust.

“Back home...there was a lot of... attention on me. A lot of blame... for starting the war. Or at least being the cause of it.” He admits, scuffing his shoe against the dirt. A little bit kicks up and sticks to the toe. He does nothing about it. “People listened to what I had to say because I was some destined hero. At first I didn’t think anything of it because I had thought it was one big mistake and sooner or later people were going to see that I was just some soldier not worth the time of day. It happened to be pure luck that Impa got it right when she gave me this uniform. Zelda made me a captain because of it and suddenly I had all of these men I had to give orders to. And if anything failed or if we lost, it would all have fallen on me. The blame, the guilt, the responsibility of the war...and then we found out why Cia was even opening these portals to begin with-”

You hug him.

“Please don’t cry.” You say into his chest. Your throat is tight and it a little hard to breath but you power through. “I’m not good at this. I never have been.”

“I’m not going to cry. It’s not worth crying.”

“I’ll cry for you then.” You admit and hug him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was no ones fault.” Warrior hugs you back and rests his head on top of yours. His voice seems a little tight too and you’re sorry for all the things that he must have gone through.

You hug him for as long as you deem appropriate before letting your arms go lack and stepping away.

Or... at least you try to.

Warrior suddenly has a grip on you and refuses to let you leave.

“Please... Just stay a little longer.”

You do.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #I had no idea where exactly to go with this one #believe it or not I wrote Legends first.#I didn't know it would get as long as it did #are these a bit generic?#yes.#warrior's is also very long #sorry not sorry #should I have split this one?#probably.#did I?#no.#it took days ya'll #next time I'll split it again

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

Moment || Aaron Hotchner x gn Reader

A/N: hiiii besties expanding on a lil prompt from the weekend due to popular demand! Thank you to @the-modernmary for helping me with it!! If u liked this teeny bit of angst u will love her fics!!

just a little note for those of you who read The Right: I am going on vacation this coming Saturday-Wednesday. I will have the chapters queued to post for y’all, but I will not be able to respond to taglist requests or update the masterlist until I come back! Still let me know what you think about the chapters though, they’re some good ones! ok onto this fic.

contains: slight cursing, alcohol consumption

wc: 1.7k

You take a deep breath as you walk out of Strauss’s office, taking exactly one beat to regain your composure before hastily making your way over to Hotch’s office, letting yourself in without knocking.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” you said by way of greeting as you crossed his office and settled into one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Tell you what?” Hotch asks, looking up from his paperwork with confusion knit across his brow.

“That Strauss was going to harangue me the second I walked into the building this morning. I seriously didn’t even make it past security before she nabbed me.” You told him, disgruntled.

“I didn’t know. What did she want?” Aaron asks, and you look up and see that he’s telling the truth-- he really didn’t know.

“Oh… I assumed she would have cleared it with you before she asked me.” You said, your boisterous energy deflating the longer you sat in the chair.

“Is she pulling you for undercover work? She always does that, and she never asks if we have anything coming up or what your consult workload is--”

“No, Hotch. She’s, uh, she’s not pulling me for undercover work.”

“What is it?”

“She said the director tapped me to lead the field office in Vegas.” You confessed, looking up and seeing the air leave Aaron’s chest.

“Wow.” Aaron says, blinking.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“And you’re going to take it?” He asked.

“I told her that I needed some time to think about it.” You answer him.

“What’s there to think about?” He wonders.

There’s a moment where you think you might actually roll your eyes at him. There’s a moment where you consider begging him to give you a reason to stay. There’s a moment where you consider crossing the desk and depositing yourself in his lap, kissing him with the weight of all of the feelings that had you wanting to stay.

But, after a moment, you realize that none of that’s happening. He’s sitting across from you, looking at you like you’d be the biggest fool in the world not to take advantage of this opportunity, and maybe he was right. Maybe you would spend the rest of your life wanting him one-sidedly, wondering what good you could have done for the world if you had simply accepted that he’d never love you back.

“Nothing,” you answered, after a moment. “There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all.”

****************************

Aaron’s barely even distracted when you swing his door open and plop yourself into one of his chairs first thing in the morning. He’s used to it, by now. He may have been a less-than-willing participant in your friendship at the beginning of your relationship, but now he was glad to call you someone he was close to. His closest friend, really.

His ears perk up when you mention Strauss. “Is she pulling you for undercover work?’ He starts to rant, already planning the tirade he’s going to deliver to Erin when he notices your demeanor change. You’re… shy, all of a sudden. You’ve never hidden from him before. He doesn’t like it.

“She said the director tapped me for the field director position in Vegas,” You revealed. The sentence hit him like a punch in the gut.

“Wow,” is all he can manage to get out, fighting the way his throat threatens to close up. “And you’re going to take it?” He asks, although he knows the answer will break his heart.

“I told her I needed some time to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?’ He asked, allowing himself to hope for a moment that you’ll make some grand confession, to imagine for a moment that you might possibly feel the same way he does, to believe for a moment that he’s worthy of your love. But he’s not.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all,” you tell him, standing up and leaving with a forced casualness.

Aaron had been married long enough to know that that tone and those words together mean the exact opposite of what they are supposed to mean-- but he was still confused. What could possibly make you stay? And how could he find it before you left?

*****************

The following days between you and Aaron had been chilly, to say the least. You didn’t bounce ideas off of each other on cases like you normally would. You came to the opposite conclusions at every turn. You were out of sync, and everyone felt it. So when the case wrapped up on a Friday afternoon, you were more than happy to rush home to a bottle of wine, a pint of ice cream, your moving boxes and some trashy reality television.

You’d given up on packing after about an hour. Your heart just wasn’t in it. So instead, you lounged in your pajamas, sipping at your wine in the hopes that it would guide you to your first full night of sleep since you’d spoken with Strauss. You’re just about to head to bed when there’s a knock at your door. You swing it open, revealing Aaron, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

“I was an asshole.” He offers. “Am I interrupting anything, or?”

“Just packing,” you say, wanting to twist the knife a little bit even if it wasn’t truthful. Aaron is undeterred, and steps inside anyways.

“I didn’t want you to leave with us still in the middle of the fight. You can be as mad as you want in the morning, but have a glass of champagne with me?” He asks, with those big brown eyes you could never refuse.

“Fine,” you sighed, still easily won over by him, even when you were heartbroken and mad.

“Here, you open it. Congratulations,” he tells you, handing over the bottle. You start picking at the foil, and he speaks up in the silence. “Things are going to be different without you, you know. I like that our team is structured the way it is… as a team, but you know, in a lot of ways, it was nice to have a partner in you.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I even have cups. They might be packed away,” you say, still picking at the foil and decidedly not looking Aaron in the eye. He chuckles a little at your comment.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone. I mean, who else can rein in Derek, or get to see me the big picture, or talk Emily off the ledge when I’m sure she’s about to go rogue?’

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, setting the bottle on the counter, still unopened. Aaron heaves a sigh.

“You should stay.” He says, after a moment.

“What?” You say, blinking, because surely you must be drunk or dreaming or something else.

“You should stay here. You don’t have to take the job in Vegas.”

“Haha, very funny,” you joked, bringing your attention back to the bottle to avoid looking him in the eye.

“I’m serious. Listen, I know I said there was nothing to think about, but I changed my mind.”

“Oh, did you? And what if I haven’t changed mine?” You asked, getting angry now.

Not able to hold back for another second, he takes your face in both of his hands and kisses you. “Just, think about that before you board a plane. Okay?” He says, and before you can even speak, you hear the door swing shut behind him.

Damn you, Hotchner.

You don’t sleep a wink. When 8am finally rolls around, you pull yourself out of bed and get dressed, heading over to Aaron’s. As you buckle your seatbelt, you realize that you know you have to go over there but you have no clue what it is you even want to say to him. You hope you’ll figure it out without sounding completely insane as you knock on Aaron’s door, and he swings it open, still in his sweatpants and incredibly surprised to find you on his doorstep.

“I’m even more mad at you right now than I was last night,” you tell him by way of greeting.

“That’s understandable. I haven’t been very fair to you,” he agrees, and the fact that he’s being so reasonable only makes you angrier. You slip past him and step inside the apartment.

“I don’t get it. You couldn’t just let me move on, start a new life and forget about the torch I’ve been burning for my boss the entire time I’ve worked here? You had to have the last word, even if I was leaving forever.”

“No,” Aaron says, and you bite your tongue, trying to allow him a moment to respond even if you weren’t feeling all that gracious. “No, I couldn’t let you move on thinking the torch you were carrying ws unrequited.”

You’re struck by his words. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. It’s a great opportunity for you in Vegas. I’m happy for you, and you shouldn’t let this--”

“Hotch, what are you trying to say?”

“Just that I’m proud of you, and I know that you’ll do excellent work, and--”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to hide from me.” You call him out, and he looks at you for a moment. This time, you don’t break his glance.

“I’m not trying to hide. I’m just too late.” He tells you, looking down at the floor.

“Tell me, Hotchner. Tell me, please.” You beg of him, shifting to try to get him to look you in the eye.

“I love you, and I figured it out too late.”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he’s ruined any vestiges of friendship that still existed between the two of you in this moment, and that you’ll board your plane to Las Vegas and he’ll become a creepy old boss that you never think about again. He takes a moment to look at you, a moment to mourn what might have been, a moment to remember the way your laugh made him smile while the memories were still fresh. He takes a moment, and then you speak up.

“No,” you correct him. “You figured it out just in time.”

tagging: @choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @torykjamie @maureen4y

@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides

@itsmytimetoodream @averyhotchner @msmarvelsmain @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar

hi besties I tried to tag everyone who said they wanted to be on my regular hotch list and a few of y’all who regularly interact with the right but if i made a mistake/u want to be removed u can lmk I will not be offended!!!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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junicai · 3 years

Text

who taught you that?

| order no. | 4/21

| summary | Aria's Korean has improved greatly since stepping off the plane to Korea. But sometimes, the lingo still trips her up - in interesting ways.

| word count | 2.3k

| warnings | Sexual innuendos

| era | circa. January 2017

The cushions had been collected from throughout the dorm; blankets pulled from beds and from the top shelves of wardrobes to amass a large pile in the centre of the living room. The members stood around in varying degrees of formal clothing;

Some still in their clothes that they had worn for the promotion earlier on in the day, and others having stripped and changed into leggings and old shorts and faded t-shirts as soon as they had stepped foot into their home.

Aria had waited for the others to use the bathroom before she had slid in quietly afterwards, knowing that she took the longest in the shower and not wanting to use a large amount of the hot water.

Sure, the spray of water ran a little icy towards the end, but she'd read that it was good for your pores to turn the shower head cold at the end of a haircare routine anyway, so she wasn't complaining.

She'd shuffled her way out of the bathroom and into her room, where she immediately fluffed out the excess water still in her hair, leaving it damp and loose to dry on her shoulders, prior to tugging on a stolen sweatshirt and a pair of cotton shorts that had been retired to sleep status months ago.

The hoodie was warm, and Aria tugged it around her neck to fight the chill of her damp hair, shuffling out into the living room with a blanket fisted in her hand and a pillow tucked underneath her other arm.

"Do you want to just toss that onto the couch, there, and go dry your hair?" Doyoung paced over to Aria, hands taking the bedding from hers already.

"Oh, no, it's okay." Aria shook her head, moving to help him flatten out her blanket onto the carpet. They were building a blanket fort, of a kind.

The movie night had been Taeyong's idea - a bonding experience he said. Donghyuck had jumped at the idea of constructing a fortress of soft and fluffy bedding, and well. No one was going to turn him down.

"You'll catch a chill, go dry your hair." Doyoung reprimanded, gently but firmly tugging the edge of the blanket from her grip.

"My hair dryer is broken," Aria winced.

"Well why didn't you just say that?" He looked up at her briefly, shooing her towards his own room. "Go, you can use mine. I think Jaehyun's in there, maybe he can help."

Aria nodded, mollified, and made her way into Doyoung's room. She passed Taeil in the hallway, who patted her back lightly in greeting. The doorway was cracked open, so she knocked once before tentatively pushing it open.

There, as Doyoung had predicted, was Jaehyun, sitting on his bed and scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up when Aria knocked, and smiled, locking his phone and dropping it into his lap.

"Hey, Akari. What's up?" He asked.

"Uh," Aria wrung her hands in front of her. "Do you know where Doyoung oppa's hairdryer is? He told me I could use it because mine is broken," She trailed off.

"Yeah! Sure, give me a moment." Jaehyun pushed himself off the bed, crouching down in front of the storage unit beside Doyoung's bed and pulling open the bottom drawer. There, beneath several half empty bottles of varying brands of hair conditioner and toning shampoo was the hairdryer, which he pulled out with a flourish.

"There we go. Do you need help or?"

Aria shook her head. "Oh no, it's alright. I'll be out quickly, you can go join them in the living room."

"Yeah, no problem. Don't take too long though, or else I think Donghyuck will pick the movie again, and last time," Jaehyun grimaced. "That didn't end very well."

Aria could remember. Last time, Donghyuck had insisted on watching a new horror film that had recently come out in the cinemas; one that Aria never actually ended up watching in favor of burying her head in Yuta's shoulder, his hands covering her ears as the characters on the screen screamed blue murder.

Hilariously though, Donghyuck hadn't fared much better, despite the movie being his own choice, and the two maknaes ended up sharing a bed for the following three days - unable to sleep alone.

Aria agreed, and as soon as Jaehyun had left the bedroom she plugged in the hairdryer and began running her fingers through her hair to detangle any knots.

She pulled the device away from her head when the air grew too hot for her to handle, and spent a couple seconds trying to figure out how to turn down the heat. After giving up on the endeavor though, Aria just decided to get through it as quickly as possible.

She blew out every strand until it was only slightly damp and no longer dripping with water, and tugged her hair into two plaits on either side of her head.

The hairdryer was pushed back into the bottom drawer of the storage unit, and Aria closed the door into Doyoung's bedroom behind her as she left the room.

Entering back into the kitchen, she realized that Mark, Sicheng and Jaehyun had already claimed their spots on the floor and singular armchair respectively.

Looking over, Taeyong and Doyoung were leaning against the counter with Taeil; Donghyuck emerging from behind the wall to join them.

Aria padded over to the second group, wanting to grab a glass of water prior to settling down for the movie and becoming reluctant to move less she lose her comfortable position.

As she made her way across into the kitchen, she caught the tail end of Donghyuck's whining tirade, his hands clutching onto the back of Doyoung's sweatshirt.

"But hyung, I'm hungry." He pouted, pulling on the material.

"It's late, Hyuck, you'll feel sick if you eat this late."

Donghyuck's pout deepened. "But not if I eat something that isn't sugary."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Please!"

Doyoung sighed a long suffering sigh. "Fine."

Donghyuck cheered, squeezing Doyoung in a hug in thanks. "Thank you thank you!"

Doyoung grumbled something about raising him wrong with no manners at all, placated by Taeil's hand rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder.

Taeyong just turned away, hiding his grin into the glass of water he was sipping.

"Hm," Donghyuck pondered, fingers tapping his chin. "What to eat, what to find."

Aria's head popped into the conversation. "Do you want to eat ramen?"

Taeyong choked on his water.

"What!" Donghyuck whipped around, hand landing on his chest.

Aria stumbled back slightly, eyes wide and bewildered. "R-ramen? Ramen noodles? Do you, want to, eat them?" She turned to Taeil. "Am I saying that right?"

"Saying what right?"

"Do you want to eat ramen?" Aria sounded out each syllable carefully, thinking it was an issue with her pronunciation. She was still learning Korean - it has improved greatly, but there were still issues that arose occasionally.

"Don't say it again!"

"What? What am I saying!" Aria spun, looking at the four men who were staring back at her with wide eyes.

Taeyong cleared his throat, having recovered from his coughing fit. "It's just, uh, it's nothing."

Aria's face fell. "I thought my Korean was getting better though.."

Doyoung floundered slightly. "It is! Oh it's a million times better; it's not that, Aria. It's not that at all, it's just that - that - hyung, you explain."

Taeyong fixed Doyoung with an affronted look, "You explain!"

"I'll explain," Taeil held out placating hands. "You're scaring her."

It was true. Aria's head was whipping back and forth between the two, the confused crease between her eyebrows only growing deeper and deeper.

"Aria, the phrase that you used, is, generally used in such a context that would mean you'd like to take the other person home - for the night." Taeil slowly explained.

Aria nodded in tandem. "Like a sleepover?"

Donghyuck smacked his hand to his face, dragging it down. "You asked me if I wanted to sleep with you."

Aria's shriek brought yells from the other boys.

"What!"

"What is it!"

"Who's dead!"

The three boys in the living room received no response other than a red faced Aria bursting in, immediately burrowing herself beneath a mountain of blankets and a cackling Donghyuck following her.

"What's happened?" Mark questioned, wide eyed.

Doyoung entered, trailing a hand down his face with his eyes closed. "Nothing, Mark. Nothing at all."

Mark looked over at the mound of blankets that was currently Aria. "Uh, okay?"

As the conversation faded into background noise, Jaehyun shuffled over to Aria's blanketed form.

"Ari? Are you okay?"

"Fine!" She squeaked.

"Are you sure?"

Aria's head popped out from a gap in the blankets. Her cheeks were still flushed a bright red. "Mhm! Totally fine!"

Jaehyun regarded her suspiciously, looking her up and down. Aria's eyes begged him to drop it, pleading with him not here, not here please, don't bring it up here, and he conceded.

Sitting back onto the couch, he pushed himself into the arm slightly, making room for an extra person to sit beside him without saying a word, and Aria gratefully slid out from her blanket hideout and into his arms.

Jaehyun pulled one of the blankets from the floor up over the both of them as they shuffled about for a moment, finding a comfortable position.

Taeil, who had settled onto a mattress of sorts that had been constructed on the floor with Taeyong and Doyoung resting comfortably on either side, took a look around the room.

"Is everyone ready? Drinks, snacks?" He questioned, knowing the uproar that would occur should someone get up in the middle of the film.

After receiving the general consensus of yeses, he clicked onto the movie, and pressed play.

The opening scene of Train to Busan lit up the television screen, and Aria promptly pulled the blanket back up over her head. She could feel Jaehyun chuckle beside her, and a strong arm encircled her waist to pull her against him tighter.

Aria stayed that way throughout the entirety of the film. Midway through, Yuta's hand found it's way onto her knee, rubbing soothing circles into the skin and Aria's own hand slipped out from underneath the blanket to clasp his hand in her own.

For once, she was glad that Korean wasn't her native language, because it meant that when Yuta began speaking to her in soft, gentle tones, the Japanese drowned out the Korean and made it easier for her to pretend that there wasn't a zombie apocalypse happening on the screen right in front of her.

It felt like an eternity, with Jaehyun's arms tightening around her to warn her of a loud noise before it happened, and Yuta's soft murmurs trying to comfort her.

Eventually, the movie clicked off with a light snick and the living room was plunged into darkness. With the television no longer illuminating the room, the only light source came from the moonlight peeking through the gaps in the blinds; and slowly, the members began to stir.

Sicheng and Yuta stood up, the latter patting Aria's leg once, brushing dust from their legs and bending to snag the pillows they were lying against up to their chests.

Mark slowly rose from the floor, arms raising above his head and he rolled his neck with a crack that reverberated around the room.

Gradually, all the members bar two bid a goodnight and sleepily shuffled their way back to their own beds, bar Donghyuck, who followed Mark into his bed.

The movie might not have been his choice this evening, but that didn't change the fact that he was too prideful for his own good; and that meant watching the film in its entirety, even if it sacrificed two days of restful sleep.

Honestly, she fully expected to find Donghyuck in her own bed tomorrow, or be dragged into his.

Aria, still encircled in Jaehyun's arms, was reluctant to move. Here, she was warm, and comfortable, and her bed was most definitely cold, and she'd have to move around all her bedding to find a comfortable position.

Dithering over her options, she was taken by surprise when Jaehyun tightened his grip on her waist slightly, rolling over to position her more comfortably and safely away from the edge of the couch.

"Jae?" Aria whispered when he didn't let go. "Shouldn't we go to bed? It's pretty late."

"M'no." He mumbled. "I'm tired, let's just sleep here."

"Oh," Aria thought about it for a moment. Was this what her manager meant when she said that Aria would bond with the boys eventually?

"Yeah, yeah okay. Let's sleep here."

Aria ran a hand over Jaehyun's hair once, before snuggling back down into his warm embrace.

#*moonlight café #nct 24th member #nct #nct imagines #nct addition #nct female member #nct female addition #nct extra member #superm #nct 127 #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop addition #kpop!oc #nct female oc #wayv #nct additional member au

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa.

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats.

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs.

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know.

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys.

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered.

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses.

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country.

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan.

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable.

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

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