#i should start tagging my posts better...

[maladaptive-daydreamer-23]

Petrichor and Plasma

A/N: I wrote this for my dearest friend @cringeiknow <3 love you bestie <3 It's also posted on AO3 if you prefer to read there! I will drop the link below. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

Love, Mal <3

Summary: On a case in Alabama you find yourself facing your worst fear- thunderstorms. To your surprise, you don't have to face it alone.

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, unsub critically injured via lightning strike, cursing, Thunderstorms, anxiety, implied age gap.

Tags: Aaron Hotchner/reader (No use of Y/N) Angst, fluff, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, soft Hotch, pre-relationship pining.

Word count: 5.4k

Ao3 link here

Aaron had always loved the smell of rain. He didn’t know why, there was no formative memory or specific reasoning for his love of the scent. He just liked it. So naturally he also loved rainy days. He liked to watch the raindrops run down the floor to ceiling windows in his office, and occasionally lightning would streak across the sky and he always thought it was so—majestic. Rain on the roof at night was the perfect way to fall asleep. It was soothing and it kept him in a deep sleep all night. Rain brought life in the spring and rainbows almost always followed. He just loved rain.

This week though, the rain was nothing but a hindrance. The team had been on the trail of an unsub in Alabama who was using the line of thunderstorms moving through the south as cover, and part of his ritual. This unsub only killed when it was raining, which doesn’t sound like a huge issue, it only rains every few weeks in the south in the summer so the team should have had plenty of time between the third kill and the next rainy day to make progress and complete a profile. Right? 

Wrong. The entire south was experiencing a tropical depression because of the hurricane that had just hit the Gulf a few days before. Which meant, it was raining incessantly, and the unsub was now officially on a spree. 

To make matters worse, the worst of the storms were due in the next few hours and they were coming with severe weather warnings. The local meteorologist was calling for strong straight line winds, hail, electrical storms, and—at the worst—possible tornadoes across the state. Reid had been watching the forecast all day, and Aaron was sure that thunderstorms and supercells were going to become his newest hyperfixation. 

The unsub hadn’t struck today. Not yet. That was the most frustrating part of this whole case, the team had racked their brains over it for the entire week, but they could not figure out how the unsub was choosing his targets! It was about to drive Aaron up the damn wall. 

“Hotch! We got another one!” Morgan called from the doorway of the breakroom where Aaron had been standing behind Reid, attention fixed on the radar and the line of storms that was bearing down on their location. “It’s on the other side of the county.”

Aaron sighed heavily and squared his shoulders. “Let’s go and see what we can gather from the scene before these storms hit.” He said, looking from Morgan to Reid. “Why don’t you stay and keep an eye on those storms, that way you can call us if we need to take shelter.” 

“Sure.” Reid said, barely glancing over his shoulder at him as he said it. His focus solely on the weatherman’s words and the bright colors splayed across the screen. Aaron shook his head at Reid—fondly, despite the circumstances— and started toward the door, where Morgan had already disappeared to gather the rest of the team. Until he noticed you.

You were sitting at a table in the corner of the room, eyes locked on the TV, brows furrowed. 

As the newest member of the team—having joined only three months prior—Aaron didn’t know much about you personally. He knew you were a hell of an agent, and a brilliant profiler for your age. He knew you got along great with the rest of the team and he knew that he’d like to get to know you a little better when he had the time. He liked to know as much as possible about his team, it helped him to lead. You were usually bright and cheerful. A bit of a smart ass, but in an amusing way that was never truly disrespectful. You often had the team in fits of laughter with a well timed one liner and he appreciated your ability to lighten the mood on occasion.

This afternoon, however, you were quiet. Skittish and even bordering on paranoid. You jumped at loud noises and every time he’d said your name it had taken him three or four tries to get your attention. It was unlike you to be so distracted—as far as he was aware anyway—and it was beginning to concern him. Currently, your knee was bouncing a mile a minute and you were snapping a hair tie against the skin of your inner wrist while biting your cheek. Christ, you looked tense.

“Hey.” He murmured, stepping between you and the TV to get your attention without startling you. 

“Huh? Sorry Hotch, did you say something?” You asked him, shaking your head as if clearing it like an etch-a-sketch. 

He smiled at you, though his concern was clear. “I hadn’t yet, no. I was just trying to get your attention.” He explained gently, stepping a little closer and studying you while you were disoriented. He’d often found himself studying you. He wasn’t sure what it was about your features that drew his interest so often. He found you pretty, beautiful if he was being totally truthful, but you were also… young. Young enough that he shouldn’t notice how pretty you were—but his brain didn’t seem to get the memo. It was an issue. 

“Oh.” You mumbled, your voice quiet as you barely managed to maintain eye contact. Thunder rolled softly in the distance and your eyes darted to the nearest window, widening slightly as you startled. Hmm. He’d ponder that later.

“Are you coming?” He asked you expectantly. “Morgan just said we have another victim.” 

You once again looked around him to the TV and then looked back at him. Then frowned. “Actually, I think someone should stay behind and pay attention to the weather. Just in case.” You volunteered. 

“Yes, that's what Reid is doing.” He told you then nodded his head toward the door. “Come on.” He prodded, not thinking anything else of it. “We’ll need you at the scene. We’re trying to get back before the next line of storms hits.” 

You looked like you wanted to argue, which was strange because you had never given any push back over a simple instruction before. He raised an eyebrow at you—waiting for some sort of explanation— and you sighed softly, standing from your seat and walking to the door without a word. He’d have to check in with you later. 

************************************************************************

You HATED thunderstorms, the only good thing about them is petrichor. You loved petrichor. However, lightning and thunder might as well have been the bane of your existence. You’d been dreading it all week. The last few days had just been incessant rain. A constant, miserable, humid downpour that had made you feel as though you were never going to be dry again. You hated that too. Tonight though, that would be the absolute cherry on top of a terrible week. You were so glad you had grown up in the Mountain West region of the States, where hurricanes didn’t exist and tornadoes were so rare there hadn’t been one in your lifetime. The high altitudes and dry air didn’t allow for it. Thank God. 

In the back seat of the SUV you noticed that Hotch kept glancing back at you in the rearview mirror. You didn’t know why, or what you had done, but you were sure you were in trouble— for something… That was just another thing to add to your ever growing list of grievances, but one you’d worry about later. Those thunderheads in the distance were growing ever closer, and the nearer they got the louder the thunder became. Every distant flash of lightning had made you more and more anxious. So Hotch’s possible ire would just have to wait. It was going to take all your energy to maintain focus on the scene, so you didn’t have any left to worry about him. 

The crime scene was at a trailer park. The last place you wanted to be with bad weather on the way. The poor victim had been killed sometime during the previous night. No one heard or saw anything because of the rain. Hotch had split the trailer into sections for you all to go over and pick apart. You could hardly focus as you looked around the small bedroom. It was girly frilly and soft, everything was either baby pink or cornflower blue. She had lived alone but she had pictures of friends and family everywhere. There was so much blood, it drenched the bed and splattered the walls and one word kept coming to the forefront of your mind: overkill. It was entirely unsettling, especially as the flashes of lightning grew brighter and the thunder got louder and louder. 

“What do you see?” Hotch’s voice made you jump and let out a small shriek. You’d been alone in the bedroom, and you hadn’t heard his footsteps coming down the hall over the a/c unit in the window. You panted as your heart rate spiked and you tried to settle yourself with a hand on your chest. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to frighten you.” 

“S’okay.” You breathed on an exhale, waving off his concern dismissively. You looked around the room once more before you attempted to give him a response, hoping to see anything you may have missed before. “She was loved. She wasn’t a loner like the last guy, she had friends and a family. She was tidy, there’s nothing out of place—besides the blood— and everything is completely aesthetically pleasing. She liked order, or she had just finished a deep clean. But more importantly, she made this space homey, she was comfortable here. It’s not the ritz but she was making it work. 

“She graduated from the University of Alabama in May. It’s August so she’s probably only been living here for three months at the most and look at what she’s done with the place. I mean, it’s not my style, but it’s nice. Very sorority, but nice. She wanted to feel at home here. The degree on the wall is in early childhood education, and I’ll bet Garcia is gonna tell us she was going to be working at the nearby elementary school we passed on the way over when school starts back next week. 

“Given the amount of pictures, the fact that she was in fact in a sorority, and seemed to be a ranking member, I’d say she was probably outgoing. That’s really all I can gather about her from the appearance of the room, I haven’t gone through her closet or drawers or anything like that yet. I had to wait for the coroner to move her body.” 

He studied you intently while you spoke and you just pretended not to notice. 

“Good, that’s good.” He murmured, glancing around the room as well and then nodding at you. “What about our unsub? What does this room say about him?” He asks you, looking you over with a soft curiosity.

That's when you realized this was a test. Or maybe a teaching moment? You were unsure, but you knew he was looking at you expectantly and you didn’t want to disappoint him. You know it’s probably silly, but you have a thing for Aaron Hotchner. He drives you absolutely crazy with his dad bod and unruly hair that he keeps cut short because of the cowlick above his forehead. You can’t help but stare at his enormous hands and sometimes you giggle to yourself at the way they dwarf absolutely everything. His phone, pens, the hands of other men when he shakes them, your hands… Which you know because he helped you down off a chair the other day when Penelope couldn’t reach something she needed on a shelf even with the chair. You and JJ were the only ones there to help her and you’re taller than JJ but still not quite tall enough to reach the shelf from the floor. So you climbed on the chair, then Hotch came into the bullpen and almost had a fit because apparently standing in rolling chairs is dangerous—as if you don’t hunt serial killers for a living—and he demanded that you get down. Carefully. He offered you his hands before you stepped down and so you accepted the help—because you thought he might actually pass the fuck out if you just jumped— and that was when you realized that your hands looked like they were tiny compared to his. 

Focus.

You cleared your throat and looked around, before looking back at him and answering. “I just keep thinking: Overkill.” You gestured around the room. “This is different than all the other scenes, he didn’t do nearly as much damage to the other victims, or leave such a huge mess. It’s overkill, I’m just not sure why…” 

“But you do have an idea?” Hotch prompted you gently, his mouth quirking up at the corner in a rare smirk. 

You sighed and nodded slightly. “I think she fought back.” 

“That’s exactly the conclusion we all were coming to. Good work.” He said, and the added praise had your cheeks heating to a shade of red you were sure was unflattering. He turned to head back out the door, but stopped and looked over his shoulder to say something else. 

A loud clap of thunder beat him to the punch, scaring you absolutely shitless. You screamed bloody murder and jumped nearly out of your own skin. “Fuck!” You hissed, bending down to rest your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. 

He startled at your outburst and then turned back to you. “Are you alright?” He asked softly, stepping back to your side and laying a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing firmly. 

You tried to laugh it off, waving a hand and chuckling awkwardly. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You chuffed, giving him a weak smile. “The thunder just startled me, that’s all. I’m not a big fan of thunder and that one was super loud, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine.” You tried your best to be convincing, standing up straight and doing what you could to mask your anxiety. 

He was frowning at you, but he nodded his head anyway. Stepping away from you, he removed his hand from your shoulder and then went back to the door. “I was going to say, we’re about ready to head back to the station. We’ve seen enough and we don’t want to get caught out in these storms if we can help it.” 

Then he simply walked away, leaving you to regain a semblance of composure in the gore of this once cozy bedroom. 

************************************************************************

Aaron was now sure that something had his youngest agent on edge. You were normally unflappable, a crime scene like that one would have been just another day on the job for you. You’d seen worse, he knew you had because he’d personally been there with you. Maybe it was that the victim was near your age, or that she had fought back and you could see yourself in her. Maybe he’d just caught you off guard and that was what had unsettled you. 

But none of that rang true for him, not really, because you’d been anxious all day. Come to think of it, now that it had drawn his attention, you had seemed a little nervous all week and the longer this case went on the more nervous you got.

He tried to tell himself that the only reason he really noticed was because you were still new and relatively untested. He was just keeping an eye on his newest subordinate, making sure you were settling in alright. 

But that was bullshit too, and he knew it. 

You had finished “settling in” weeks ago. You fit in with this team so perfectly it was almost like you’d always been there. Your giggles ringing out through the bullpen as you laughed at Morgan’s jokes had become a familiar sound. Your gentle teasing of Reid now an everyday occurrence that he barely registered anymore. The way you popped your hair tie against your wrist to focus had become as recognisable to him as the way JJ chewed on pencils and Prentiss cracked her knuckles. 

You weren’t as experienced as the rest of them, sure. But you belonged here, with them. There was no question about it. He had no doubts about your potential and often he found himself relying on your uncanny ability to mirror others. If there was ever a time when he wasn’t sure when a person was a victim, witness, or suspect he had figured out that he could throw you into the room with them and you would sniff it out like a bloodhound. An empath, Penelope had called you. Hotch had thought he knew how to make empathy a tool and often used it himself to get what he needed from a witness or a suspect. However, the affinity you had for it was something he’d never seen before. It was like you crawled into the other person’s emotions, learned them, understood them, and molded them to fit your needs. It was an impressive interrogation tool and one he had taken full advantage of in the last few months, when the situation called for it. 

So he really had no reason to watch you as closely as he did. There was just something about you that drew him in. It wasn’t your beauty alone, he’d worked with plenty of beautiful women in the past. It wasn’t your age, that was what made him agonize over this the most, he felt like a perv every time he found himself watching you. It wasn’t just your personality, your beaming smiles and your quirky little laugh. It was a combination of everything and it was maddening. 

Now, back at the station he found himself watching you again. This time however, he was watching with immense concern. You were wound tight enough to break, your muscles tense and your face drawn. Your leg was bouncing wildly and you were snapping the hair tie on your wrist with such force he could hear the slap of it against your skin from across the room, it made him flinch each time. It was pouring down rain outside and thunder rolled every few minutes, each rumble causing you to twitch anxiously. The worst of the storms were due to roll in any minute now and the team had moved from the break room of the station to the basement, built specifically for nights like this. There was plenty of space and light down here to continue working on the case and so that’s what they’d all been doing. You, however, seemed to have nothing to contribute to the conversation. Instead staring into the empty corner of the room, a blank but worried look on your face. 

Thunder roared, shaking the whole building down to the foundation and suddenly the room was pitch black. A shrill scream rang out followed by a loud scrape of chair legs on the floor, a crash as the chair in question seemed to topple over and several other loud thuds as someone fled the room. He didn’t need light to guess who had run. 

The power came back on shortly once the generator kicked on, and the lights flickered now but they could deal with the minor annoyance. What he couldn’t deal with, was not knowing where you had gone and if you were alright. You might have hurt yourself running in the darkness like that. He was going to have to find you. Just in case. 

“I’m going to go check on her.” He said to no one in particular. “I’m not sure what that was about, but she ran into at least two chairs and a table on the way out, so she could be hurt.” 

The team nodded their agreement and he set out in search of you. 

It was raining so hard now that he could hear the drumming of it on the roof all the way from the basement. The thunder continued to shake the building with every crash of lightning and the wind was howling so loudly it sounded like a band of demons wailing through the halls. He searched every room of the basement until he finally found you. 

You were in the very back corner of a supply closet sitting on the floor with your knees tucked to your chest. Your head was buried in your lap so you did see him come in and you were pressing your palms to your ears so forcefully your elbows were shaking. You were rocking back and forth and your body was trembling. He could just barely make out the sound of your sobs over the wind and rain. 

“You’re not a ‘big fan of thunder’ huh?” He said softly, just loud enough to alert you to his presence. You looked up at him with tears rolling down your face. Sniffling, you wiped at your tears, it was useless to try though. Your cheeks were soaked and you were just smearing mascara everywhere.

“Sorry.” You gasped, barely able to get the word out because your breathing was so erratic that your chest was heaving and you were doing the uncontrollable hiccup thing that was nearly painful. He smiled at you kindly. “I’m terrified of thunderstorms. It’s pathetic, really I’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not pathetic. Not at all. Everyone is afraid of something. Thunderstorms are powerful and dangerous, it’s a perfectly normal thing to be scared of.” He said calmly, trying to soothe you. Walking closer and squatting down in front of you, he noticed a box of Kleenex on the shelf just above your head. Grabbing it and tearing back the seal, he pulled out a couple and handed them to you. You wiped at your face, noticing as you pulled the tissue away that there were black streaks on the white tissue. 

“Fuck…” you muttered, wiping harder at your face to the point that he was worried you’d rub your skin raw. 

“Here let me.” He offered, grabbing a clean tissue and reaching toward your face. He gently dabbed at the black streaks until he was satisfied that they were cleaned up enough. “There.” 

He brought his eyes back to yours, finding you staring at him in what he could only describe as shocked awe.

“How can I help you?” He asked, hoping his voice was calming and patient. You shook your head. 

“You can’t.” You whispered, your voice shuddering as you looked down again, avoiding his eyes and wrapping your arms around your knees. 

“Hey.” He whispered back, reaching out again to move your hair out of your face so that he could see your eyes. “Let me try, I can’t just let you sit here alone, terrified. I won’t do it. So tell me what helps at home.”

You scoffed and shook your head, new tears falling from your eyes and splattering on your pant legs. “At home I put in earbuds, curl up in a ball under a blanket in my bed and cover my head with a pillow to drown out everything but the music.” 

You looked up at him, your face embarrassed and expectant. As though you thought he’d make fun of you. He just nodded his head, a plan forming in his mind. He could work with that. “I’ll be right back, stay right here.” He murmured.

“Don’t worry I will.” You quipped, a tad sarcastically and he smiled softly, deciding that attitude was better than tears. “My ass is firmly glued to this spot.” 

He chuckled quietly as he left the room, in search of something to help you.

****************************************************

You watched him go with curious eyes at first, but the first peel of thunder after he disappeared had you shaking and crying again. You wished, briefly, that he had just stayed. He made you feel safer, just with his proximity to you. But then you dismissed the notion. You didn’t want him to witness your tears. The shaking, breathless, sobbing mess you referred to as your ‘ugly cry.’ Not when he was always so perfectly composed and put together. 

You’d never once seen him crack. Nothing flustered him. Not that you’d ever seen anyway. Granted you’d only known him a few months, and he’d been chasing serial killers for over a decade. Of course he was solid as a rock under pressure. 

You didn’t hear him come back. He didn’t say a word, just got to work. He’d found a couch cushion—somewhere—which he placed on the concrete floor against the wall near where you were sitting. The puff of air was what had alerted you to his presence again. 

“This should be more comfortable than the floor.” He murmured, gesturing to the cushion and offering a hand to help you stand. You took it and then sat, as he instructed, on the cushion instead. He didn’t stop there though, no, he had a few more tricks up his sleeve. “I couldn’t find a blanket, but this should swallow you whole and it’s already warm.” He said taking off his suit jacket and draping it over you carefully. Then he turned to a nearby shelf and picked something up, handing it to you. It was a set of headphones. “I borrowed them from Morgan. Do you have music on your phone?”

You nodded but then frowned and shook your head. “I left it in the other room.” 

“That’s okay.” He soothed, sitting next to you on the cushion. “I’ve got mine.” 

He fiddled around in the pocket of his slacks and extracted his phone. Retrieving the end of the cord, he connected the headphones to his cellphone and started to search for the app he needed. 

“Hotch, you don’t have to–” You started to protest, desperately trying to let him off the hook. 

But he interrupted you with a gentle nudge of his shoulder against yours. 

“I know.” He murmured, smiling at you kindly. “I want to.” 

You were speechless. Breathless. Unable to comprehend the words he’d just said. Because why? Why did he want to sit here with you in this tiny little supply closet and comfort you through your juvenile fear of thunderstorms. 

“Here. Put those on.” He instructed you gently. 

You didn’t move, still flabbergasted at the improbability of Hotch sitting here, with you, just because he wanted to. He raised a brow at you expectantly but you couldn’t get your hands to reach up and put the headphones over your ears. So he did it for you. Gently taking your wrists in his hands and guiding your hands up to your head then situating the headphones so they rested comfortably over your ears. He let go of your wrists and you wrapped your arms around your knees again, pulling his suit jacket tighter around your body. You watched him carefully, still trying to find a reason for his kindness. His mouth turned up in a slightly amused smirk as he looked down at his phone again and tapped the screen once. Julie Andrews' voice flowed into your ears and you snorted a surprised laugh. “You think you’re hilarious right now, don’t you?”

You bumped him back with your shoulder, playfully, without thinking about it. The song was My Favorite Things from The Sound Of Music. The main character, Maria, sings it to the children she nannies during a thunderstorm to take their minds off the fear and the joke is not lost on you. 

He laughed softly and looked over at you with a mischievous smile. “I’m honestly just impressed you got the joke. That’s an old movie.” 

“I think I’m morally obligated to refer to you as Fraulein Hotchner from now on.” You joked, sniffling a little because your nose was still running and you’re sure you looked SO attractive, not. He laughed at your joke and bumped your leg with his, on purpose. Your stomach flipped, and he changed the song to something slightly more modern. You say slightly because it was late eighties rock and it was a song you’d never even heard before, but you weren’t going to tell him that. He had the volume high enough that you couldn’t hear the storm, but low enough that you could hear him perfectly. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” He murmured, giving you a soft smile that lit you up inside. 

“What are you afraid of?” You whispered, and immediately wished you could retract the question, rambling an explanation instead of letting him answer. “I mean– you said everyone is afraid of something… this fear I have of thunderstorms seems… ridiculous, juvenile even. But it's real and I can’t shake it. So I was wondering… If maybe you’re being so kind because you also have an irrational fear?”

The soft smile remained, and he opened his mouth to respond– but was interrupted by a brutal shockwave of thunder that shook the ground and everything else. You whimpered involuntarily, ducking your head and clutching your knees tighter to your chest. He put his arm around your shoulders—without hesitation— and tucked you tightly against his side. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.” He murmured into your hair and suddenly you forgot entirely about the storm. You nestled in closer, not really caring about the unprofessionalism of the entire situation. You felt safe tucked under his arm like this, so you rested your head on his shoulder and he let you. 

“I hate, hate, hate thunderstorms.” You grumbled, huffing frustratedly. “Which sucks because I LOVE petrichor!” 

“What’s petrichor?” He mumbles into your hair again, talking so softly to you that your stomach was having a literal butterfly rave or something. 

“The smell of rain.” You sighed quietly. “I love it, but I can’t truly enjoy it because rain itself makes me anxious.” 

His thumb was softly stroking your shoulder through the material of his suit jacket and he laughed softly. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Mm hmm.” You hummed back. “Why?” 

“It’s my favorite smell, I didn’t know it had a name.” He murmured, his breath moving your hair so that it tickled your forehead. His phone started to ring, but he didn’t move to answer it. 

Then you realized that he couldn’t hear it ringing because of the headphones. “Your phone is ringing.” You murmured sitting up straight. 

He unplugged the headphones and answered it on speaker phone without ever looking at the caller ID. “Hotchner.” 

“Hey, did you ever find her?” Spencer’s voice rang out in the quiet as you took off the headphones. Too quiet, you realized after a beat, you couldn’t hear the rain any longer.

“Yeah, I did. You’ve got us both, what is it?” Hotch asked him. 

“Oh, good. We’re all going back upstairs, the storm is past us and the weather channel says it's over for the night.” Reid informed you. 

“Thank God…” You muttered, relaxing fully into Hotch’s side. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and smiled at you. 

“We’ll be right up.” Hotch said and started to hang up but Reid hurriedly interrupted him. 

“Wait! I was also supposed to tell you that we think we have our unsub.” He rushed out. 

“As in, we’ve got a strong suspect or we have him in custody?” You asked in confusion, glancing up at Hotch with your brows furrowed, only to find your expression completely mirrored his. 

“Both… Kind of.” Reid answered. “We got a call about a man who was trying to break into a single woman’s house and was subsequently struck by lightning. He’s in the hospital, but they don’t think he’s gonna make it. Which isn’t surprising given that lightning is molten plasma that is generally around 30,000 degrees Kelvin.” 

“Woah.” You muttered. Hotch’s face echoed your sentiment. 

“Thanks Reid, we’ll be right there.” He said and ended the call. “Are you alright to go back upstairs?” 

“Yeah, if the storm is over I’m good.” You replied. “Hey, if this is our guy, do we get to go home and get away from this horrendous weather?” 

He chuckled softly. “Yes.” 

“Oh good! Now I’ll have two things about thunderstorms to kind of— sort of— appreciate.” You joked, leaning forward to look back at him. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, smirking softly. “What would that be?”

You grinned at him cheekily before chirping. “Petrichor and Plasma.”

[interlink-au]

Horton Lagoon to east of Tarry Town. Jogging speed. Rough estimate because that terrain is very rough.

See tags for... Ugh, fine, I'll write it again. It takes 2.5-4 hours to sail between the east and west continents in LoZ 2: Adventure of Link. It depends on how good the wind is. Wearing the island lobster shirt and using a korok leaf definitely makes a difference compared to only using a korok leaf often enough to keep the sail facing the right way.

Maybe I should include the LU tag because of the possibilities that info opens up...

Based off of previous tests it takes about a day to get from Nabooru Town to the dock. Really rough estimate.

It took two full days to ride a horse from where I'm guessing Ordon would be (I think it was Malanya's Spring) to the castle. A mix of walk and trot, depending on if I needed to dodge monsters on the trails. I went with mostly walking the horse because that's how travel works irl. The horse is mostly to make travel easier, not faster. You shouldn't keep a horse at a trot all day. Does this mean I should tag TP, too? No, no. Let's not go crazy. Although I'm curious if that is consistent with Twilight Princess' day/night cycle. I don't own a copy of that game. Ok, fine, I'll tag it. If someone wants to compare that with their copy of TP I would love to hear it.

A full day walking on the road from Death Mountain to the castle. Unfortunately, I didn't write down where I started. It was probably somewhere on the path between the tower and the stables.

These numbers are terrible because I only made them specific enough for my own curiosity or story-writing needs rather than for science. Sorry about that.

If OP wants to give me better numbers, feel free. I didn't pay attention to how long ago you posted this, and I can't see now that I'm reblogging, so maybe you've moved on from this lol

EDIT: Oh jeez, that was forever ago lolol. Oh yeah, it did say "while waiting for TOTK." I need to go to bed.

Having an absolute normal one while waiting for TotK

So for some goddess-forsaken reason while running around in BotW, I had the thought over how much in game time it would take to get from one area of the map to the other.

I mean, it’s a pretty big map yea? How long would it take Link to get around if teleporting wasn’t an option?

Keep reading

[circle--of--confusion]

Summary:

1980s Mall AU Copia is a manager at the alternative store "Miasma" and their rivals across the way is a custesy jewelry store named "Becky's". One afternoon, he runs into an employee who works there, Erin, who ends up wanting to talk more about their store's rivalry since she's still new to everything. They share lunch breaks and over a short time, they realize they both want to spend more time with each other. Their crushes bloom into something more, all while they keep the relationship a secret from his friends at Miasma.

AN: This has been a very fun fic to work on! I hope you enjoy my small pocket universe with these characters.

Fic Mixtape

Paring: Copia x OC [Erin]

Total Words: 54k

Tags: Explicit; AU, 1980s mall, fluff, smut, secret relationship, copia has a band, too many facts about space, more tags on AO3

Read The rest on AO3 [Chapter 1 [6.4k words] is posted below]

Masterlist

It was the sound of the metal rack clattering and the stuffed animals falling to the ground after being knocked over that drew Erin out of her people-watching trance. The soda she was sipping on was her companion as she waits for a friend by the food court.

“Shit,” the voice says, still sitting on his ass. 

She rushes over to him to see if he’s alright. “Hey! Oh my god, are you ok?” He’s an older guy dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt. He also may or may not be the guy Erin’s been crushing on from afar.

What fun serendipity.

He hums and turns his head to look at her. The dark layered, feathery hair she has is back-lit and it makes her look like an angel. His eyes go wide and he smiles. “I’m better now that you’re here

Erin tilts her head. “Uh…”

He comes-to and shakes his head. “I, ah, yes, I’m fine. I was… thinking about something and didn’t see where I was going.” He’s at least aware enough not to say it washer. Much less the way her outfit shows off her figure and her thighs. He has to stop letting that invade his mind.

The two of them finally move to stand and he awkwardly places everything back where they should belong, hoping the bodega worker glaring at him isn’t cursing his existence too intesely.

“Sorry to run but I’m late for my shift!” He points with his thumbs to the left.

She nods, gesturing to the side. “Hopefully no stupid customers for you today!”

“If only it could be that easy.” The man rolls his eyes. “I’m Copia, by the way–” a voice breaks in through his sentence and he frowns. A woman walks up towards them.

“So sorry, Copia. I’m meeting up with a friend.” Erin turns towards her and waves. “Over here!”

“Right. Guess I’ll leave you to it.” Copia starts to walk off, cursing himself for being even later. He’s one of the few keyholders at this store  and the manager and his mother is the district manager. What are they going to do? Fire him?

Actually, his mom would do that.

He can’t believe he ran into something this time! Erin popped into his radar recently as the new manager transfer to Becky’s, the cutesy jewelry store across the way. Her smile, even across the walkway caught his attention as he walked to the front to stock shirts and adjust a display.

His co-workers who are also unfortunately friends remind Copia constantly that as workers of Miasma, an alt/punk clothing and oddities shop, are sworn enemies of Becky’s. He’s honestly not interested in this years-long beef between the two stores; it began when his brother Primo was the original manager.

And he doesn’t make enough to care.

“Hey, Dew. Thanks for holding down the fort,” Copia sighs, heading back to the office to clock in and check on any stock that’s been dropped off for the week.

Dew salutes half-heartedly as he leans against the counter. “No problem, boss.”

“Oh,” Copia stops in his stride and turns to him, “Go easy on Phantom. He’s still getting the hang of things.”

He whines. “We were hazed by Primo when most of us started working here! Why should he get off without anything?”

Copia crosses his arms. “Because Primo is practically a sadist.”

◊◊◊◊

Erin had learned early on about the store that’s rivals with hers. The passionate speech of Cirrus ranting again about how anyone who works for Miasma is evil made her giggle.

Does he automatically hold a grudge against me? Erin thinks. I hope not. He seems cute to her, even as an older guy. Copia’s eyes stay on her mind. One green and one a pale white.

“Though, my baby brother works there so I can’t hate him.”

“Is working in a mall really that boring you have to invent rivalries with other stores?”

Cirrus scoffs, “This is serious. It transcends all of time and space.”

Erin tsks a laugh. “This mall has existed for only about eight years.”

“Just… whatever you do, stay away from Dewdrop.”

Erin and Cirrus hang out for a couple hours until she needs to clock into her shift and that allows Erin to stop by a store for a birthday gift. The next morning, on her way to open, she crosses paths with Copia. She flags him down, half-jogging over across the walkway. He seems surprised the closer Erin gets. It’s endearing and she smiles at the soft shock in his face.

“It’s recently come to my attention that we’re mortal enemies.”

Copia laughs to himself. “So, you’ve finally been educated, huh?”

“Mhm. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to be talking to you.” She winks.

“I’ve heard and seen it all, trust me. It’s a whole saga. Multiple parts and everything.”

Erin perks up, using this as an opportunity. “If our lunch breaks ever coincide, you could tell me some time?”

Copia raises an eyebrow. This can’t be happening! He almost wants to pinch himself. A wide grin breaks out on his face but the sounds of Dew and Omega talking throw him off and he nods quickly. “Yes, of course! I normally go around noon and grab a slice of pizza.”

She turns to the sound, noticing his co-workers. “It’s a date. And my name is Erin, by the way. You might want to know that.” She quickly turns to walk back across the way, waving goodbye to him, laughing at the small comment that was overheard about one of his co-workers asking about Copia talking to her.

Date. The word echoes in his mind as he watches Erin, he did want to know that, unlock the gate in a slight daze.  Dew loudly asks why a Becky’s member was talking to him and Omega swats at his arm, scolding Dewdrop for being rude.

“Omega, help me confirm today’s deposit?” Copia asks as he lifts the gate.

“Sure.”

Dew looks offended, holding his hand to his chest. “Why not ask me?”

Copia sighs gravely. “You’re not allowed near large amounts of money, remember?”

He snaps his fingers and points at his manager, nodding. “Right.”

◊◊◊◊

It’s been a quiet morning, thankfully, for Erin. As she stocks charm bracelets by the front, she watches through the window to see if Copia walks near the entrance for any reason. The feud between their respective stores is ridiculous, truly, but if what Cirrus said was any accurate…

Erin shakes her head. She’ll wait to hear what Copia has to say. Which if her watch is correct, she should be able to find out in about half an hour. There’s a nervous excitement low in her belly. Erin keeps checking the time to make sure she can leave for lunch right at noon. She’s only had two half-conversations with him before he had to do something and Erin looks forward to his undivided attention.

There’s something about Copia that intrigues her. Erin wants to get to know him. Maybe kiss him at one point! Don’t sue her. There’s a feeling deep in her gut that Copia has very kissable lips.

She sets the extra stock on the counter and asks another worker to put it up for now. It’s now time for her lunch break. It’s time to hear the other side of the story.

She looks for the pizza shop, finding a decent line waiting to grab their own slices. Erin hears someone calling her name over the din of the food court and turns around to find Copia sitting at a table for two with slices and drinks already. He’s ushering her over and Erin smiles the closer she gets. Copia leans back in his seat, crossing his arms again.

“Are one of these slices for me?”

He sits up straight, quickly taking the tops off of the boxes. “Yes! I wanted to have options for you but all they had left was cheese.”

“Well!” Erin grins. “Cheese, please, then.”

“Oh, that’s good. I was hoping you weren’t going to say something like cheese louise instead.”

She snorts, “Oh, that’s awful. I love it.” Erin will admit, she can’t resist a good pun.

Copia looks down, chuckling to himself. “Thanks.”

The two smile softly at each other before tapping their slices together in a ‘cheers’ motion and eating them. Copia and Erin eat in silence, occasionally humming at the taste. They both understand: food first, talking later. The newest pop record plays as their background music.

Erin wipes her hands with her napkin as Copia sips from his soda. “So, this Epic Saga, you called it.”

“Mhm.” Copia nods.

“What’s your side of it.”

“Well,” he pauses, looking off with his mouth slightly open. Copia rolls his eyes and them closes them while shaking his head. “My pops wanted that space for the store and the Becky’s ownership came by with a better offer.”

She expects there to be more but after Copia takes another sip of soda, he leans back in his chair. “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?”

Erin sputters, “From what Cirrus said, there’s been a lot more drama.”

He laughs, nodding. “Yeah, it was sorta exacerbated by our side first. Previous management was not, ah, pleased.” He grimaces. “Which didn’t help at all.”

“I hesitate to ask…”

“It wasn’t so bad at first, I will admit. My oldest brother was the manager and for the most part things ran smoothly.” Copia winces. “That is until one morning he’d yelled across the way that he’d sacrifice one of the employees to Satan if they stepped foot in our store again.”

Erin gapes, her mouth opens in shock. “What…” she hums. “He said again. What happened the first time?”

“From what I remember Secondo telling me, my other brother, the Becky’s girl messed up some display.”

“That’s it?”

Copia watches the journey she takes, letting the information sink in. She looks at him then off to the side to scoff in different ways before repeating the motions few more times.

“Then, to get back at us, Cirrus somehow snuck in and replaced all of our studs and piercing options with Yours. Alpha felt scandalized when he noticed the bright stars and rainbows. It was the shriek that was heard around the mall.”

She giggles, “Oh, poor thing.”

That small sound of her giggle makes him feel warm and fuzzy. He finds wants to hear it all the time now. “And then Dew set something on fire.”

“Shit.” Her face sobers.

“That earned a visit to the security office. Dew and Cirrus refused to apologize and it took a large, generous donation to the mall from both store owners to have this whole incident go away.” Copia waves his hand like a magician.

She tilts her head. “It was that easy? I assumed there’d be harsher consequences for setting a fire indoors.”

“The guy who owns this mall is good friends with my parents,” Copia says.

Erin narrows her eyes. “When why didn’t he let you have the spot you wanted in the first place?”

“He’s good friends, not best friends.”

◊◊◊◊

Over the following two days, their lunch breaks managed to line up again. It’s a comforting routine Copia and Erin quickly fell into. Both of them wanted to talk more and more but were limited within the hour window that was allowed. Mostly they discussed about their day, regaling each other with the odd customer that comes in.

“And so, I had to tell the guy, we don’t do piercings, we just sell stuff you can buy to take to a shop.” Copia’s waving his hands in the air. “But he was adamant. He claims a friend had came to this shop a few months ago, paid five bucks, and bam! New piercing.”

Erin dips a fry into ketchup and looks up at him, tilting her head. “What a fascinating mystery.”

Copia takes a bite of his burger and chews for a bit. “Yeah, well, I ended up solving the mystery very quickly.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat here, Copia.” She smiles.

He pauses, taking a second to look at her. He wonders if making himself look like a fool a few days ago was the best decision of his life. Because right now he has his crush - which he feels very weird to say as a man in his early fifties - waiting with bated breath to find out which of his stupid co-worker friends gave a back-alley piercing. Her brown eyes stare back, wide and eager.

“Where was I?” Copia huffs out a nervous laugh.

Erin shakes her head. His eyes glazed over when he stared at her. “The mystery body modifier.”

Copia nods. “Yes! It was Swiss in the end.”

“Oh! Well, he does have a lot of ah,” she hums, waving her hands in front of her face, “that.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. I’m not sure why I even needed to ask. I told him not to do it again but when he said he had a few more appointments from other customers I said not to do it on mall property.”

“Copia!” Erin scolds.

“What? It’s a semi-lucrative side job.” He shrugs. “How can I deny the man his extra money?”

She leans back, thinking it over. “As long as it isn’t on the property, yeah, I don’t think there’s a problem with that.”

“At last! She sees reason.” Copia smirks.

Erin scoffs, “Oh, fuck off!” She throws her napkin at him.

“But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the last seven minutes of my time with you.”

“Is it almost over already?” She frowns and turns around to look at the large clock in the food court. “Damn.”

They both part for their jobs, Erin leaving first this time so they’re not seen together. The next day, she had a later shift and couldn’t go to lunch when Copia did. They would send over a small wave if the timing was right.

As her nightly routine ends a couple days later, the front gate is dropped and locked. Erin looks over, finding Copia straightening up t-shirts by the front.

She softly knocks on the side of the entrance and it brings him out of his stupor. “Hey,” Erin softly says, waving at him.

“Oh, hey!” He stands up straighter. “Are you done for the night?”

She nods, humming a yes. “Do I have permission to cross the threshold or am I in danger of being sacrificed in the name of Satan?”

“Primo can barely walk at this point so I’d say you’re fine.” Copia waves her in. “He’s all you’d ever have to worry about.”

He asks if she’s ok being locked in. They can walk out through the back door, it’s what he normally does. Erin nods and swoons playfully, moving to grab his arm to blink up at him lovingly, earning a soft laugh from him when Copia says he’d walk her to her car just in case. As she wanders around the store, looking at the t-shirts and belts, jacket stud packs and chains, Copia watches with a soft fondness.

She eyes a rack of rings and earrings, looking through the options.

“So, which one are you? Punk or metal?” she asks, turning to him.

Copia tilts his head to the side a few times side to side as he thinks it over. “A mix of both but more metal.”

“You don’t dress particularly punk-ish.”

He laughs, coming closer. “I mean. Punk is more of an attitude than a specific look. Though, a badass leather jacket never hurts. Punk is a state of mind, Erin.” Copia smiles, setting a hand down next to Erin as she leans against the counter. He’s in her space and she smells like vanilla and sweet strawberries.

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“It’s become annoyingly trendy to some people who just want to be assholes.” He bends over against the counter, leaning down to rest his elbows in the surface, turning his head to Erin. “Come into this store and you can buy all of the parts to become another unique copy.”

“You sound so happy.” She bends down to lean the same way against the counter like Copia.

He shrugs his shoulder. “The store makes money so I guess I can’t complain too much.” Copia grins, a twinkle sparkling in his eye. “The views from here aren’t too bad either.”

Erin blushes, looking away and down to the table.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“I want to give you something.”

The two huff out a laugh and stand back up. Erin goes to grab something from her pocket. “You first.”

Copia nods. “Well, I, uh.” He scratches behind his neck awkwardly. “There’s a local drive-in doing a Star Wars marathon on Saturday.” Copia points his finger at her before pointing back to himself. He avoids her eyes as he asks, “If you’re free, would you want to go? With me?”

Erin tries to hide a massive smile that’s threatening to break free. “Oh, I don’t know.” His eyes lock into hers and she giggles. “Do you really want to spend that much time around me?”

“I’d like to spend way more time than that around you, actually.” Copia looks to her with pleading eyes.

“Me too.” She takes his hand and places a small piece of paper in it. “And if we’re not around in person at the same time, I want you to be able to call me so we can still talk.” Erin closes his hand over her number and looks back up to his face.

He could kiss her! Though, he thinks, maybe it’s too soon. Instead, he nods rapidly, almost to the point of giving himself a concussion. He needs to give Erin his number in return!

“One second!” He holds up a finger and rushes to the checkout counter, furiously rustling around for a working pen and a roll of receipt paper. Successfully he’s able to find what he needs and scribbles as clearly as he can where she can call him. “Here’s my number, too.”

“Thank you.” Erin looks at the scrawl, squinting. “Is that a nine or a four?”

Copia leans in. “Ah! It’s a four.”

“Got it,” she hums a laugh. “Are you almost done here? I would really like to get home.”

He breathes in quickly, looking around the store and nods. “Yes. I’m done with that I need to do.” Copia holds out his arm for her. “Shall we walk to our cars now?”

Erin loops hers around his, leaning in. “We shall.”

Copia shows her through the back to the door that leads out to the back parking lot. Their cars aren’t too far apart and he’s soon closing her door as Erin gets in, turning on the engine. She rolls down her window and leans forward to mention he needs her address. Erin leans over, grabbing a scrap of paper from her glove box and a pen. It’s not too far from him, they live in the same city thankfully. He taps the roof of her car and says goodbye but stands still for a moment, looking at her while she looks up at him.

She gently reminds him he needs to get home too and he shakes his head, finally turning to walk to his car. She yells goodnight to him and he waves his hand to her without looking back.

She doesn’t work the next day so she takes the time to run an errand for her roommate, Jessica, who works a full-time 9-5. They’re old friends and Jessica let Erin stay with her when her old job hit a dead end. The Becky’s job isn’t her life’s calling but it’s steady work and she’s grateful to Jessica for having a place to stay.

Copia never called her over the two days that had passed since Erin gave him her number. It was on a Wednesday and now, on this busier than normal Friday, her mind wanders to that sweet smile and why it’s not dialing her number. She counts through inventory in the back and sighs. He’s not working today; apparently the other keyholder, Mountain, is in the manager’s office. Her lunch break feels lifeless and she’s eating silently by herself.

She’s expecting Copia to pick her up around 4pm for the movie. The entire night should be around six and a half hours including breaks between the movies for viewers to use the bathroom or get more snacks. There’s a flutter in her stomach as she thinks about what they might talk about for such a long time. Erin feels very eager to have Copia all to herself for the evening. She’s not sure about the weather tonight so she plans to wear a sweater with jeans.

A knock on the door alerts her of Copia’s arrival. Her roommate yells out from her room “Make good choices!”

Erin snickers and opens the door. The absolutely scrumptious sight that greets her stops Erin in her tracks. Standing before her is Copia, sure, but he looks different. Its almost too much.

Copia chose to wear jeans so tight you’d think he had to be poured into the denim the way it hugs around his thighs. He’s got a simple band tee on and over it, the pièce de resistance, is a studded and decorated leather jacket. It looks like it’s been a labor of love to place patches and pins upon it over the years.

He looks comfortable like this, looks confident.

She bites her lip and drinks in the sight. Copia stands in front of her for what feels like an eternity while she ogles his body. He clears his throat, calling her name.

“Uh, Earth to Erin?” He smirks.

There’s a distant hum before she remembers where she is. “Oh! Hi!”

“Hello.” Copia puts his hands into his jacket pockets. He admires the sweater Erin chose. She looks cuddly and he wants to reach forward, to grab her into his arms and hug her softness. “Ready to head out? It should take half an hour to get to the drive-in.” He points back to the truck he arrived in.

Erin nods. “Yes! I’m ready.”

They pile into the truck and he begins their journey. It’s an older model and the suspensions show it. They drive over every bump and the entire thing creaks and jumps as it goes over. Copia winces a couple times, quickly looking to her to see how she’s doing.

“It’s my dad’s,” Copia explains. “He said I could borrow it on the grounds I don’t come back a father.”

Erin chokes on her breath. “Oh!”

As they pull into the entrance, he leans over to pay admission and drives around to a free spot. Cars have already arrived and a handful more trickle in as the show time grows closer. They both hop out of the truck, stretching. Copia asks for her to wait there and not watch him. He wanted to get something prepared first.

He mumbles to himself for a few minutes and the truck creaks every so often. After around five minutes he says Erin can come around to him. She stands next to Copia and he gestures to the bed with a “ta-da!” He’s created an arrangement of blankets and pillows so they can lie down to watch the movie in comfort.

She hugs him from the side, moving her head to look up at his soft smile. “It’s lovely, Copia. You’re wonderful for doing this.” She thinks she could kiss him.

He waves a hand saying its no big deal and soon she’s scrambling up to get comfortable. He points over to the concessions. “I’ll go get the first round of snacks?”

Erin nods and gives him her requests. When he comes back, his arms are overflowing with different food items and she crawls to the end to help relieve his burden. “I’m impressed you didn’t drop anything!”

“I would’ve been devastated if the drinks had fallen.” He hands her a blue cup with a lid and a straw. He gets up into the bed and settles. “The cups were themed tonight. Blue and red. I’m the evil empire, red obviously, and you’re the resistance, blue.”

Erin laughs, “Is this because of the store feud?”

“Maybe…” Copia looks off to the side as he sips.

She hums a laugh and nudges him with her elbow with a giggle, “You’re too cute.”

Copia blushes. The last few cars drive up to their spots and the two eat in silence observing the other attendees. He bought one large popcorn to share and their hands touch over the bucket causing Copia to let out a surprised noise. Erin looks over at him.

“Have you seen the movies?” Copia asks.

She nods. “I think I saw them so many times the movie theater workers knew me by my first name.”

“Wow!” He’s stunned. Copia looks forward and makes a funny face.

“One joked that all of the money I spent was probably a quarter of their paycheck that month,” Erin laughs. “I love anything space.” She leans towards him. “It’s the final frontier after all.”

Copia nods. “Ahh. Star Track.”

“Trek.”

“Right.”

There’s an announcement over the speakers that the movie is about to begin. Erin and Copia wiggle in their spots, excited to be taken into another world. He holds up his cup of soda to her and she raises it to knock against his. They both say “cheers!”

The production logos appear and a small cheer rings out from the cars. Soon the iconic opening credits play through the speakers and the crawling text, well, crawls. Copia notices a faint humming and he looks over to see Erin bopping her head as she hums the theme music. He’s grinning and his chest feels full. Copia’s so happy to have Erin here with him because otherwise he would’ve come alone. Sometimes he’ll watch her instead of the movie and occasionally she’d quote a certain part of the movie with 100% accuracy.

When she began to know the lines of different characters in a scene, that’s when he raised a silent eyebrow and turned back forward. Erin managed to catch all of the parts Copia wasn’t looking at her so she could look at him.

She hasn’t had an opportunity to look at his outfit again. Its almost like looking at the sun; she doesn’t want to look for too long. The tight jeans concern her slightly, however, and she hopes he isn’t too uncomfortable.

After the credits roll for the first movie, Copia turns to face her a bit more. “Which one is your favorite character?”

“Leia, obviously. I think I went as her for Halloween three years in a row.”

“Its hard not to love her,” Copia says. “My favorite was always Han.”

Erin giggles. “Of course you’d say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes and mouth open wide in mock shock and he puts a hand to his chest.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “The snarky quips. The signature jacket.” Erin gestures up and down his body. “And your friends across the way at work always seem to be screeching like Chewey.”

Copia laughs so hard his head falls back and Erin feels like she’s floating upon hearing him so happy. She’s doing that to him! It dawns on her that nearly a week ago they’d never spoken and now she’s on a date with him. It all feels like too much!

“Hey, I need to use the restroom. Hopefully it’s not too crowded; I want to be back in time for The Empire Strikes Back.” Erin moves to the end of the truck bed and jumps off. “Be back soon!” She gives him a thumbs up.

As she walks to the bathroom, her cheeks feel flushed. Erin’s hands rise to touch her cheeks, no doubt feeling warm and if she looked in the mirror, her face is probably red too. Erin’s been here barely two hours, how is she going to stay focused! His hand fell between the two of them as he set it down onto the blanket and her fingers twitched.

Copia lays back into the pillows as he waits for Erin to get back. There’s about five minutes until the next movie and he hasn’t seen her light purple sweater anywhere. He regrets his choice in jeans tonight.

The snug pants he chose are one of the more worn-in pairs he has but normally they’re for standing and playing at a show. He’s never had to sit for several hours in them. At least she seemed to like it. She looked like she liked it a lot.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Erin is yelling as she gets closer. “I wanted to get some more popcorn and stuff while I was up.” She hands Copia a new soda and the new bucket.

“You’re amazing, Erin. Thank you.”

She leans side to side as she crawls back to her spot. “I try.” Erin makes a satisfied groan when she gets comfortable again, leaning back into the pillows and Copia grabs another blanket.

“The sun’s coming down. Want to share a blanket?” He doesn’t want her being too cold. He needs her to feel good. She nods and he drapes the fabric over their legs. She quietly thanks him as the next movie begins.

Erin seems tense around him. He can’t focus on the first bit of the movie as he wonders what happened. As he moves his hand closest to her to sit under the blanket, she jumps slightly. When Copia looks down, there’s a small lump that appears to be moving.

Its moving to where his hand rests on his thigh!

He feels the sudden touch of Erin’s fingers sliding into his palm and they both softly gasp. Her hand freezes and almost starts to retreat but he closes his hand around what he can. Erin’s hand stops and when Copia opens up, she’s back to slowly moving forward again. Once she’s hovering her hand over his, their fingers instinctually lace together.

Erin sighs and Copia feels her body relax. They are slowly inching closer to each other as the two share the fluffy blanket and about halfway through the movie, she’s pulling it further up her body, shivering slightly.

Copia leans down by her ear. “Cold?”

She startles and turns to him, nodding. “A bit, yeah.”

“Here.” He removes his hand from hers and Erin frowns slightly. Copia stretches his arm around behind her and gestures for her to slide in under his jacket. “It’s warmer here.”

Erin slowly leans into his side, tentatively placing a hand on his chest as she practically cuddles him. She breathes in deep and a waft of his cologne floats into her senses. He smells spicy and woody and it’s not too strong; he knew just the right amount to put on so it would settle on him throughout the day as a comforting scent.

She hums, looking up to him. “You smell nice.”

Copia smiles softly. “Are you comfortable?”

“I am.” Erin rubs lightly at his shirt, whispering. “Your t-shirt is really soft. It’s perfect to rest on.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Copia whispers back.

Neither of them have returned their attention to the movie screen. His focus is trained to her lips and Erin watches as he stares down at her, eyes set low on her face. She quirks up one side of her lips and Copia’s tongue pokes out to wet his in anticipation of what he wants to say next.

“Erin…” he whispers so low she barely hears it.

“Yes?”

It feels as if he’s holding his breath. “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Yes, you can kiss meoh!” Erin gasps, surprised at how quickly he leans down.

It’s slow at first; they’re both getting a grasp on what’s going on. She lets him take the lead as he moves his lips over hers delicately. His other hand comes up to hold her in place as he caresses her jaw. They pull away and smile briefly before falling back together for another kiss. Erin’s more involved this time as she slowly moves further up his body when he slides down further onto his back.

Copia holds her to him as they try to stay as quiet as they can, muting happy moans of delight. Erin pokes her tongue over and he raises an eyebrow, humming a surprised sound while they keep their eyes closed. They’ve very quickly descended into French kissing and Copia thinks he can’t get enough of her as they lick softly into each other. His arm around her slides down her back to keep Erin close on him.

When their kiss ends for them to part for air they’re both feeling like they’re on cloud nine.

“Mhm. Just as I suspected.” Copia gazes dreamily towards her.

Erin tilts her head. “What?”

“Your lips are just as soft as I imagined.”

She blushes and hides her face from him as she snorts out a quiet laugh. Erin presses a small kiss to his lips but it’s quick and Copia didn’t have time to deepen it again. “Yours aren’t too bad either.”

She was right. They’re very kissable.

Erin lowers to lie back on his chest within his jacket. She feels incredibly relaxed now and snuggles up to him, placing her arm around his waist. Between the blanket keeping her warm, the soothing scent of Copia’s cologne, and the soft way he’s begun to card his fingers through her hair, Erin easily closes her eyes and falls asleep. The last thing she remembers is Copia pressing a small kiss to the top of her head as Leia is confessing to Han Solo that she loves him to which he responds “I know” before being frozen in carbonite.

A gentle nudging from Copia rouses her from her nap. She’s groaning slightly as she tries to wake up.

“We gotta get up, baby. The movies are over.” Copia definitely noticed her small smile at baby.

Erin yawns, “I slept through Return of the Jedi?”

He takes her cheek into his palm and rubs his thumb softly over her skin there. “You looked too comfortable like this I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You just didn’t want me off of you, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything because she’s right. She looked so perfect curled up on his chest and at one point she moved to get more comfortable and wrapped her arms tighter around him. The soft nuzzle of her nose on his chest in her sleep made nearly made him whimper.

The two crawl out with their uneaten snacks and throw away anything they can’t take back. She gets to come home with a bag of M&Ms and is very happy about it. Copia balls up everything into one blanket and throws it into the back seat to be dealt with when he returns the truck.

He drives her back home and they sit in a tired silence. Erin looks over at him and he’s tapping his thumbs to the steering wheel. There’s a soft smile on his face and at a light, he turns to check on her. They both share a surprised face, both finding caught by the other.

Copia pulls into her driveway slowly and the truck creaks to a stop. Erin unbuckles and she’s hearing the sound of his door closing as she rounds the front, stopping to look back.

“I want to walk you to your door.” He gestures up to it.

She looks at him with a fondness she wasn’t expecting. “You’re such a gentleman. I’d like that.” Erin takes his hand and they walk the short trek up to her front step.

“I’ll call you later?” Copia doesn’t want to leave just yet. He doesn’t want to let go of her hand.

“I have work tomorrow but I’m free in the evening.” She rubs her thumb over the back of his hand.

He looks down between them and nods. They’re both slowly leaning towards each other; Erin looks at his lips and Copia is watching her as she bites her own in anticipation. He wraps his free arm around her waist and pulls her into him to press one last kiss of the night to her lips. He holds her firmly to him when his other hand removes itself from her grasp to snake around the other half of her waist. They’re sharing soft moans with each other as the kiss progresses from chaste to something more.

Erin’s hands rest on his chest and she could swear she feels his heart beat just a bit faster.

They pull back eventually and smile. Erin leans back in for one quick peck to his cheek and Copia is blushing again for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“That was for tonight,” Erin whispers. “Everything was lovely.”

“I’m happy you came with me.”

She nods and her hands slide down from his chest and Copia removes his arms from around her. Erin begins to unlock the door, stopping with her hand on the doorknob. She looks back one more time and yanks Copia forward by the collar of his shirt quickly for a kiss to his lips. “That one however was for me.”

Erin walks inside then, leaving Copia in a daze. He blinks a few times and grins. On the other side of the door, she’s leaning back against it as she’s lightly touching the apples of her cheeks with her fingertips as she smiles wide, feeling the warmth from them. She knows she’s blushing but doesn’t think it’ll go away any time soon.

Jessica walks out from her room with an empty glass to refill. She finds Erin in her own world still by the door and chuckles. “Did you have a good night?” Her small nod is all she needs to know.

When Copia gets the truck back at his parent’s house, his old man Nihil sits outside on the front porch.

“Pretty late to still be up, dad.” Copia drops off the keys into his hand. “It’s also cold.”

Nihil waves him off. “The cold keeps me awake.” He fiddles with the keys in his hand. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yes.”

“No hanky-panky?”

“Dad.”

Nihil grunts and points at Copia. “You made me a promise. I’m not driving a truck that has my son’s sex cooties on it.”

“And I kept that promise,” he scoffs. “And now I’m going home, weirdo.”

“G’night, son!” He waves. “I’ll tell your mother you said hi.”

Copia’s at his car when he waves goodnight back. Soon he’s driving along back to his apartment so he can hopefully fall asleep immediately. He has to count inventory by hand over the next few days and it’s exhausting. If he’s not focused, he could miss a number somewhere.

Until then, Copia has the reminder of his evening with Erin to keep his spirits up. He hopes if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to have a few more sweet kisses from her after tonight.

The rest is on AO3 for registered users. If you liked this, please click the link above to read the rest! Thank you!

[crushedsweets]

do u have any cool ideas for ur au vers of Liu? I would like to know 👀

this post and this post and this post kind of clear up lius life a lot i think!! I HAVENT READ THEM ALL SO I DUNNO IF ITS ALL STILL 'CANON' IN MY AU THOUGH, but i think so cuz i didnt rlly change much for jeff/liu/janes story... besides trying to expand on jeff being less of a sicko for fun, and more cuz he was pushed into that role (but he def still does it for fun. LOL)

random extra hcs i wanna highlight:

LIU USED TO HAVE A FIANCE !!! his fiance left him when he began spiraling again over jeff and selling their shit to afford moving to alabama, since jeff went on 'hiatus' and suddenly returned.

HE ENDS UP HIRING JANE (A PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR) TO INVESTIGATE NINA, SINCE NINA IS STALKING HIM BUT THE COPS WONT DO ANYTHING ! as a result, jane gets close to nina, and ends up coming to liu like "i cant do this anymore. it hits too close to home and she's too far gone" and liu's like FUCK FUCK FUCK and tries confronting nina himself, only for nina to latch onto him like an older brother who will save her from everything bad going on with jeff.

he starts inviting nina over to sad little dinners (cuz he's so lonely, has literally nobody in alabama and he's protective over nina) and its actually really awkward some nights. just sitting at the kitchen table with chewing and ninas just tapping her nails. but other nights, nina comes in with all her gossip and makes his home all the more lively

if you have any specific questions, let me know!

[wasabi-gumdrop]

Kabru has a secret admirer in the castle!

[kiidart]

(click for better quality! 🖥️)

pt.1 pt.3

i love bratty computers breathe if u agree <3

this is a little long, so continue reading below! :3

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[vee-lociraptor]

please imagine kayne using the dagger to lift arthur's chin to get a better look at his face and also if you will forcing john to look him in the eye. thank you and goodnight

[bandtrees]

they would get divorced in one universe just to find eachother in another one

alternatively titled: sometimes you're the level-headed token flesh-head impulse-control-and-polycule-member of a stubborn, eccentric, and hearty telephone-headed drug addict, and there's cruelty in the world you deem fit to suicidally fight, and that either goes about as well as you'd expect it to, or you learn about love and the value of your life and junk along the way

[bloodydeanwinchester]

Hej |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ

Can I ask a possibly dumb question about Supernatural?

You see I haven't actually watched the show, I'm just on tumblr and ao3 enjoying people ramble about the good bits of the story and one quite common theme of fix-it fics for the episode that shan't be named is Dean retiring (more or less willingly, usually with Cas) while Sam and Eileen keep hunting. And I've been wondering why is that, considering Dean is generally the hunting guy, meanwhile Sam is the one that wanted to and actually got out (twice?).

My apologies if I'm bothering you about something that should have been obvious (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

Have a nice day 🌻

hi! no worries, it's not a bother at all! i always appreciate it when someone sends an ask with a question like this in a genuinely curious and nice way (rather than some i get where people just tell me how im wrong). also apologizing in advance because im pretty sure this is gonna get a little long

now having not watched the show before, i can totally see where you would have gotten this idea that dean is the one who wants to be a hunter and sam is the one who wants to get out. it's a pretty common fanon belief but im honestly not sure why so many people believe it. maybe because in the pilot dean is the one who is hunting and comes to stanford to pull sam out of his "normal" life back into hunting? or it could be because dean says at least a few times that he wants to go out in a blaze of glory? whatever the reasoning, it's simply not true!

one thing we learn over the course of the show is that dean, especially in the earlier seasons, is putting on a performance of who he thinks he supposed to be, who others expect him to be. so i think the only reason that dean is "the hunting guy" is because he has spent a lot of his life being that guy for his father and/or his brother. his dad raised him to be a weapon so dean became a weapon. he was told that his job was to protect sammy so he did everything he could to protect sammy. and as for sam wanting to have a normal life, i think there's a pretty good argument that he at least partly wanted that because it wasn't what his father wanted. and sam spent most of his life right up until john died fighting with him. not hunting and instead going to school was sam's rebellion against their father.

and there's also a lot of people who believe that "dean dragged sam back into hunting" in season 1 but if you watch the pilot you'll see dean wants sam to stay to help him look for their dad. but when sam refuses, dean brings him back to stanford. it isn't until jess is murdered and sam sets off on his quest for revenge that sam leaves stanford for good. and the only times that sam ever actually gets out of hunting after stanford was when he was grieving losing dean in season 8 and post series. i doubt sam would have stopped hunting in either of those instances had dean still been alive.

i could be wrong about this, but i'm not sure we ever see sam express a desire to get out of hunting after season 1? in season 2 he really dedicates himself to hunting out of some mixture of grief over their father's death and guilt at having spent so much of their time together fighting. and in season 4 we see sam say that he doesn't want to go back to their old lives. season 5 we see sam express that the apple pie life isn't what he wants anymore. while in the same episode dean seems to be saying that maybe he does want it (middle two gifs).

and as for dean, as early as 1x06 we see that maybe this isn't really the life he wanted after all. when the shapeshifter becomes dean (and as a result is able to see into his thoughts) he tells sam:

in contrast to sam leaning into hunting after their father dies, in season 2 we really start to see dean show that he wants to get out:

2x09 dean says he's tired of the job/life/weight on his shoulders.

2x10 dean expresses that he's sick of the job and being a hunter wasn't his destiny (because he doesn't believe in destiny).

2x20 dean's djinn dream is a world where he got to have a normal childhood and a life where he never became a hunter. and even though the dream has its issues, he ultimately only leaves because he's figured out it's all a lie:

and throughout the series there are lots of moments where dean says he wants a family/wants to get out but doesn't think he'll ever get to or where he criticizes the way their dad raised them as hunters. and in 13x23 he says that if the world was safe he would want to retire.

i have less examples that come to mind from the later seasons cause it's been a while since i've watched them, but i think there's plenty of evidence throughout the series to support the idea that post series dean would retire with cas and sam would keep hunting with eileen.

[jabberwockymoreau]

Starting Wheel of Time after also having recently watched all of Rings of Power gave me so much whiplash like what do you mean it's possible to have thoughtful plots, compelling characters, pacing that actually lets the story breathe and develop, worldbuilding that's not stupid, actual diversity...what do you mean it's possible for Amazon to make actually good fantasy television...I'm crying. Don't tell me these things.

[buglaur]

this is kit, please commission some art from them on social bunny 🙏

[ryebread-aurt]

Watching a marvel rivals playthrough, saw peni parker and when “OOO BEE AND CHAR”

(Plus some of my own designs for the two of them; should I post my ref sheets cuz I have a whole continuity cooking ngl)

Ref is under the cut!!

Also I did see someone did Miko and Bulkhead in this pose too but I cannot for the love of god find it again 💔💔 I still wanted to credit them for inspo tho so that’s what this is lol

[charafansmile]

Okay wait I didn't wanna jack ops post but I had more thoughts on this.

Beware: opinions from someone who's a little too high to be thinking about flowey undertale. If I misspell something that's just how it's spelled now. Forever. Sorry. I am not going back to fix my autocorrect

But like I hate how it's always used to both infantalize him and also deny him autonomy and as cute as I think it can be it also pissess me off sometimes because! Him coming to the surface should be HIS choice! Not frisks! If frisk is going to encourage him to leave and go up, it shouldn't be by forcing him! IDC IDCK. And i can get behind frisk maybe being a little forcefully with him if it's intentional and showing perhaps that frisk is going a little far with the idea of helping him but! It's rarely treated like that! And I don't like how little movement flowey is restricted too when in UT he's a slimely little bastard..like let the guy be able to run away and hide. If your going to treat him like an actual cat you have to let your floweys hide and you must respect it's boundaries this is basic 'get your cat to love you' 101 and all these FRISK ARE FAILING.

I get the appeal i really do but ughhhhh sometimes it annoys me so much. Perhaps I'd like if he's allowed to make his own choices. He's clearly capable of them. Perhaps he should be allowed to bother his friends and be a mean little asshole while frisk encourages it instead of putting him in the corner like a 3 year old.

[feketeribizli]

this part of the ocs lore... want what they have

[telesodalite]

Thinking about KrokFire...

Thinking about them sparring in the cargohold, because it's a long trip, and cabin fever is setting in, and Misfire is gonna pop a gasket if he doesn't do something about it soon, since flying in open space gets real boring real fast, and it's making everyone a little nervous, but Krok has time to kill, and maybe, quietly, he's also two steps away from doing something stupid just to feel alive again after cruising around pointlessly, mindlessly, endlessly, for so so long... (It's barely been a month)

And sure, Misfire is a terrible sparring partner. He has no technique, no concept of proper balance, or an inkling of how to use the weight of his own frame. He rushes headfirst like he's more bull than fighter jet, he talks too much, he spits, he bites, and he can't stand losing. But, in a roundabout way, it almost makes him the perfect partner in Krok's eyes.

Crankcase won't spar, "can't" he claims flatly, gesturing at the gaping hole in his helm, but Krok can respect his want for distance. That occasional flash of fear and frozen unease in Crankcase's visor in close combat doesn't go over his head. He knows that look. He gets it. He won't push.

Fulcrum... well, a streetlight might be a tougher fight, or at least it would stay up longer and complain less. So much for a once respectable officer of the empire. What was Deathsaurus' command thinking promoting anyone without any actual combat training? It would almost be pathetic if Fulcrum didn't find a way to put the vitriol of thrown fists into his words instead. Now there was some swears Krok hadn't heard in a couple millennia, it would be inspiring if it wasn't his own spark Fulcrum had been damning to the pits and back through a bloody nose.

Spinister? Now Spinister was a good fighter, a better fighter, Krok wasn't so prideful to deny that truth. He'd tasted the dust of the cargohold floor enough to know it was a definitive fact. But Spinister held back, he was careful, he matched Krok's pace, his movements, he held himself defensively, any attack was quick, simple, and merely restraining. It was less a fight, and more a waiting game until Krok finally gave up, and that... well, that did sting a bit.

But Misfire? Misfire was a different beast all together. Sure Krok could dance circles around the flier all day, but it wasn't totally effortless work, he had to stay sharp, Misfire was so predictably unpredictable, he kept him thinking, moving, on his toes, and maybe it felt good to sidestep another stupid headfirst charge, easily grabbing and swinging Misfire around by his arm, so unbalanced all Krok had to do was let him go, and the weight of his own frame would send him careening into the crates stacked around them.

Most days, Misfire would give up by then, pull himself off the pile of overturned cargo with no small amount of burning shame and frustration, as he avoided Krok's optics and stormed off into the bowels of the ship before Krok could say something to ease the sting of losing again and again. Misfire didn't want his apologies though, and even as a pang of guilt ate at him over it, Krok knew he'd be back eventually.

But today, too pent-up and bored to quit now, Misfire pushed himself back onto his feet and charged back in again, and again, and again.

And Krok moved with him again, and again, and again. It was almost repetitive, but lively enough that he could feel the energon pumping through his head, a thrumming beat in his audials that reminds him of deafening battlefields and roaring stadiums, and oh, he'd missed this feeling, the adrenaline, the movement, more so than he thought he did.

Maybe it's the overconfidence that gets him then, or the memories pulling him out of the present, but Misfire's fist suddenly comes slamming down into his mask, and for a moment everything becomes a blur, until he finds himself on the floor, clutching at the shattered metal falling from his face in disbelief.

Faintly he can feel the twinge of broken mesh, of pain pinching dully across scarred flickering sensors, and maybe it's the adrenaline that pulls a suprised and breathy laugh out of him as he stares down at the pieces in his hand.

Maybe it's also the disbelief, the sudden shock at being struck hard enough to break his mask, by Misfire of all mechs. Or maybe he's cracked his helm, finally snapping something important deep in his processor, some vital function that kept him sane all these years.

Either way, an old familiar buzz of heady energy fills his chest, loosening his joints and straightening his struts as he stands back up, brushing off the broken remains of his mask as he stares back at Misfire, barefaced and bleeding and amused as the flier's optics go bright and wide.

And all Misfire can do for a moment is stand there, wide-eyed and breathless, his own adrenaline filled frame and hammering processor still trying to make sense of the broken plating of his knuckles and the energon trickling down Krok's scarred lips.

But connections are made, and it's a panicked realization at first, a cold dread, a 'ohhhhh fuck oh primus I fucked up I'm dead I'm so fucking dead-!' sort of feeling, as Krok's marred face breaks into an energon stained grin. But then there's another feeling, growing somewhere underneath the panic, a sudden curl of heat in his chest, a flush of pride, conviction, a sort of frenzied joy at the sight of broken mesh and fresh energon, and another rush of hot anticipation as Krok began to move again, circling, waiting, an unspoken question in the air as he rolls his shoulders back and flexes his hands.

And Misfire answers eagerly, suprising himself almost as he charges foward again, wanting more of that feeling, wanting to win again.

It's not really sparring past this point, and somewhere in the back of their minds they both know that. Every strike, every kick, every punch, it's all thoughtless instinct, each clash of plating, and bite of denta, and scrape of fingertips, is part of a mad dash for victory in the gladiator pit of scrap and debris they've built around themselves.

Of course, it can't last forever. They're no real gladiators, no phase-sixers, no primes, and movements get sluggish, vents rattle and wheeze as coolant pumps reach their limits, and building condensation slides powerless punches right off of scuffed metal and mesh.

Even like this though, worn out and bleeding from more scrapes than he had half a mind to count, Krok is still better, and Misfire is still predictable, and it's no great feat to sweep his legs out from beneath him, landing him flat on the floor, wings spread out and chestplate heaving.

Overworked joints sharply protest as he goes to pin the flier down bodily, and finally Krok faces the fact he has to consider how to end this, so he might let his own beaten frame finally still for a moment to breathe.

But as Krok catches one flailing arm in his grip, scoffing at the desperation, still goading Misfire on even as he tries to end this, a hand stubbornly catches his throat, but stops before it can truly squeeze.

And once more they're not really moving, just staring, watching, but it's less wired and tense now, rather, its shaky, a little unfocused, as exhaustion filters out in heaving puffs of hot air between their frames.

Someone's plating is rattling, Krok isn't sure if it's his own or Misfire's, but the cost of adrenaline is painfully noticeable now. His grip loosens on Misfire's arms, and the idea of total victory is less sweet as his cables begin to ache throughout his inner-framework.

But Misfire's hand slides up to catch his jaw before he can lean back and relent to a truce, and he's pulling him closer, and Krok starts to push him off, call it quits before either of them breaks something past repair, but a flash of energon on Misfire lips catches his eye, and that hadn't been there a moment ago?

Before he can even begin to ask what that was supposed to mean, Misfire is pulling him down again, angling his helm upwards to feverishly meet his lips half-way.

Although the mesh of Misfire's face was throughly bruised and scuffed, Krok had frustratingly failed to return the favor of a busted lip. So, it had to be his own, smeared across Misfire's face at some point in the scuffle, it shouldn't have been interesting in the slightest, but Krok's processor was hazy, slow, and his optics trailed Misfire's glossa as he licked his lips and made an odd curious sound.

And maybe it was a stupid move to make so impulsively, one he'd regret making probably, but still too caught up in the waning heated high of the fight, Misfire figured he could worry about losing such a hard-earned battle later. Right now, this seemed far better than actually winning, and the taste of Krok's energon felt like a victory and reward nonetheless.

Bracing himself as Misfire wriggled his other hand free to splay out over his thigh, holding him desperately against his frame as he tried pulling him even closer, Krok considered the heat dispersion warnings flickering distractingly in his peripheral, and the very noticeable strain on his back and legs, even his arms.

It's not a great position to be in right now, after all they've done already. He'll regret it, he knows he will, his body will make sure of it, if Spinister doesn't first.

But then Misfire's glossa is sliding against the jagged edges of his teeth, and he's making hoarse little pathetic noises into Krok's mouth that stoke some sort of ego at having the flier so desperate beneath him, and Misfire's hands are warm and heavy over aching plating and seams, and really, on second thought, after weeks of boredom, why the hell not?

They've got nowhere to be.