#SHE RECOGNIZES AN OLDER VERSION OF HER SON AND IMMEDIATELY KNOWS HES NOT *HERS* BUT SHE CARES AND HOLDS AND LOVES HIM WITHOUT A SECOND THOUG

[metalmachineherald]

I can’t take this Janet Drake SLANDER any more. she is a loving mother damnit-

[ladysharmaa]

Kate mini version

Sharma!sis x Queen Charlotte's son

Summary: After the ball, everyone knows what happened between Y/n and Prince Charles. With the attention of high society members and the Queen, they face new obstacles as they fall in love.

part 1 part 2 part 3

Dearest reader,

The tone is abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it's my honor to impart to you.

Miss Y/n Sharma came to England after Kate Sharma's marriage to Viscount Bridgerton. In such a short time she managed to do something that no one else has managed to do: capture the attention of Queen Charlotte's youngest son, Prince Charles.

Dearest reader, this author finds herself compelled to share the most curious of news. It seems the two seemed to be quite close during the last dance, having danced together until Y/n walked away. But Prince Charles didn't take his eyes off the young woman for the rest of the night. Is a new romance brewing? Let's not forget that at the beginning of the season, her Majesty made her intentions clear of joining her youngest son with the princess of Austria.

In addition, Miss Y/n is here at her mother's request, living with her older sister, Kate Bridgerton, and her husband, Lord Bridgerton. Is it permanent or will she return to India? There are many mysteries yet to be unraveled.

On the other hand, the diamond of the season did not dance with any suitor, which may have made her Majesty uneasy. This author is left to wonder what shall her next move be, now that everything seems to be connected to the Bridgerton family.

Yours truly, Lady Whistledown

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"This is not good." Y/n muttered nervously, looking over Kate's shoulder to read the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. And to his greatest horror, she was the main topic. "How many people read this?"

"Too many." the older sister sighed, before placing the paper next to her and turning to Y/n who had her eyes increasingly wide. "Everything's fine. Most of the family has already suffered from Lady Whistledown's words and we support each other. And everything ended up being fine, the ton has short memory and will forget all about this by the next scandal."

"But what if they don't forget?"

"If they don't forget what?" a new voice intruded into the conversation.

Y/n let out a small scream, immediately recognizing Anthony's voice, and hurried to hide the paper behind her back. "Nothing. It's a beautiful day, I'm going to the gardens. Maybe hide there all day. Or all year."

"Y/n, no. You have to tell Anthony, he won't blame you for anything."

Bridgerton's eyebrows rose upon hearing that, turning to Y/n with a frown upon noticing her terrified expression. "What happened?"

"My apologies, Anthony. The last thing I wanted to do was associate the name Bridgerton with scandals. Lady Whistledown wrote about last night. About… About Prince Charles and I." She looked down, not wanting to see Anthony's disapproving look, and handed him the paper.

The minutes dragged on. To Y/n it felt like hours had passed. Long hours with just the silence in the room. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she tried to control the tears from reaching her eyes. Her head was running with different questions that only made her anxiety worse. Would they send her back to India so they wouldn't suffer any more from this scandal? She didn't know that dancing with someone could cause so many problems.

Just the thought of returning to her homeland, despite having loved growing up there, brought her great sadness. Her life was in England now. She adored her sister's family, having grown up close to many of them, especially Francesca and Hyacinth. And the truth is that she had enjoyed meeting Prince Charles. Y/n finally felt like she belonged somewhere.

She snapped out of these thoughts when she heard Anthony sigh. What was that? Disappointment? Anger? Sadness?

"Look at me." he said, but Y/n refused, knowing that as soon as she looked at the couple she would burst into tears. She shook her head, pursing her lips. "Y/n…"

"Please don't send me back to India."

"What?" the Viscount questioned in shock, almost not having noticed her from how quietly she spoke. He felt Kate hold his hand, looking sadly at her sister. "Y/n, look at us. We are not going to send you back to India."

"Really?" She raised her head shyly, her eyes red from holding back tears.

"Of course. You're part of the family. I haven't told you yet, but Mama sent a letter. Edwina had problems during the birth, so she's going to stay there until at least the rest of the year. You're going to stay with us. Here."

"Y/n, we would never send you away because of Lady Whistledown's news. You're a Bridgerton now." Anthony assured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her smile upon hearing those words, although still small, released some of the stress that Anthony and Kate were feeling.

"Hey, Anthony, I was wondering— Oh, sorry!" Hyacinth entered the room, stopping when she saw the three of them and the tense atmosphere it was in. Then he noticed the sad face and the paper his brother was holding. "Is that from Lady Whistledown? What does it say?"

"It doesn't matter what it says. What did you want to tell me, Hyacinth?"

"Oh, I was wondering if we could go horse riding. I am so bored, Gregory is training and Benedict isn't paying attention to me." she pouted, causing Y/n to giggle and rush over to Hyacinth, intertwining their arms.

"Fear no more, I shall give you attention."

"Thank you, kind lady." Hyacinth laughed. "Please, Anthony, take us horse riding."

When he offered to teach Y/n how to ride a horse, the rest of his sisters were also invited, since the men already knew how to do it. As expected, only Hyacinth accepted with great enthusiasm while Eloise preferred to read and spend her time with her new friend, Miss Cressida. For her part, Francesca was never much for outdoor sports and Daphne was obviously busy with her husband and son. Thus, Y/n and the youngest Bridgerton both formed a special friendship, and were now a feared duo in the Bridgerton house.

"What do you say?" he whispered in his wife's ear, looking at the two girls who were giving them the best puppy dog ​​eyes. "I'm afraid I can't say no to them."

"I think it's a great idea." Kate smiled.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The four then ventured into the forest. Anthony and Kate were ahead, lost in their own world while Hyacinth and Y/n followed a little behind. The younger girl curiously questioned Sharma about the night of the ball, upset that she was still too young to attend one.

"I wish I had gone yesterday. Did you dance with someone yesterday? I tried to ask Francesca the same thing, but she wouldn't leave her room."

"Unexpected things happened. Francesca is just a little discouraged. As diamond of the season, she has a lot of pressure on her. And I… Well, I danced with someone."

"Prince Charles?! I saw you both when we went for a picnic, I think it was love at first sight." Hyacinth giggled.

"Sometimes I forget how good an observer you are. Yes, I danced with him." Before her friend could get too excited, Y/n hurried to add. "And I was naive, because although I enjoyed being with him, he has an enormous responsibility. I doubt people would want him to spend his time with me."

"Please, I think you are in love."

"What? Of course not, I barely know him. We just had fun dancing, but that must be over by now. I doubt her Majesty will let him dance with me again. Lady Whistledown made sure of that."

"If you say so. I, on the other hand, do not agree. Prince Charles has shown that he is interested in you. Or he would have danced with other girls after you. But he didn't."

"Well, maybe he was tired." Y/n shrugged, while Hyacinth rolled her eyes. They continued the walk in silence, enjoying the forest landscape.

“Girls, let’s do a race!” Anthony shouted, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. Y/n chuckled, knowing he had never met a family as competitive as the Bridgertons. But she was one now too, and she loved winning.

“Very well. But make sure you don’t get too sad when I win.” Hyacinth teased, despite being the one with the least experience riding a horse.

“We’ll see.” Kate joined the teasing.

The four positioned themselves next to each other, letting the man count down. Y/n grabbed the reins tighter, and as soon as Anthony finished, she let her horse run. For a moment they were all balanced, but Hyacinth quickly fell behind. The couple competed a little ahead, trying to reach a certain narrower entrance. So, with their attention diverted from her, she took the opportunity to step over a fallen tree trunk, arriving earlier at that entrance, continuing at the same pace.

She felt free on a horse. The wind hit their face, the landscape blurred from how fast they were going. Y/n petted the animal, feeling like they could conquer the world.

When she realized that the others had already stopped, as no one had yet reached her, she also slowed down so she could wait for them to catch up. They probably had to go back to help Hyacinth control her horse.

“That was impressive.” she heard behind her.

Although she felt a second of fear, thinking that an unknown man had found her alone in the middle of the forest, she quickly associated it with the voice of the person she least wanted to see at that moment. As such, she just closed her eyes and hoped it was just her imagination. But when he cleared his throat, she knew she had to face him. Finally, she commanded the horse to turn around, finding herself face to face with Prince Charles, who was also on top of a beautiful black horse.

“Prince Charles, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” she smiled shyly.

“You as well, Miss Y/N. I didn’t know you were so talented at riding. Did Lady Bridgerton teach you?”

“She and Viscount Bridgerton. And since then I haven’t wanted anything else.” she shrugged uncomfortably, both not knowing what to say. In this way, Y/n focused on the horse that the prince was riding, being shocked by its size. “Beautiful.” She looked at Charles, noticing his look of surprise and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. “I mean, the horse— The horse is beautiful.”

“Of course.” he looked away, clearing his throat. “It seems we both had the same idea after the paper published by Lady Whistledown. A nice walk was exactly what I needed to get away from my mother.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to interfere with your marriage with the Princess of Austria.”

“Her Majesty wants me to marry her. But I don't. You see, a beautiful, fierce, remarkable girl has already caught my attention. It may seem sudden, but she is constantly in my thoughts.” he looked intensely into her eyes. Out of nowhere, it seemed like it had become much hotter, her breathing coming in muffled.

“Oh… I—”

“Y/n! Where are you?” Kate's voice was heard through the forest, breaking the atmosphere that had formed between them.

“I’m here, Kate.” Y/n replied, closing her eyes in despair when she realized that she would have a lot to explain once they arrived.

She had already taken a risk with Lady Whistledown, and now they were alone in an isolated place… It's a good thing no one outside the family would see them, or the scandal would have become much more serious. A feeling of guilt coursed through her body again. She had promised Anthony that she didn't want to associate the Bridgerton name with scandals, and here she was doing exactly the opposite.

“Prince Charles, we can’t talk anymore. It’s not right.” she said before the others appeared.

“Why not? Because of Lady Whistledown? Ignore her, the ton will quickly forget about this.”

“You don’t know that!” Y/n exclaimed exasperated at how calm Charles seemed to be about this situation.

“I know that I want to be with you.”

“You are crazy!” she put her hand over her mouth when she realized that she had “insulted” a member of the royal family. “Apologies, Prince Charles. I didn’t mean that.”

“Call me Charles.”

“I take back my apologies.”

“Finally, we found you, Y/N. We had to go back because Hyacinth’s horse refused to move.” Kate appeared, followed by the others, stopping when she saw what was happening. She made a small bow, looking at them suspiciously. “Prince Charles, I didn’t expect to see you here. Especially with my sister.”

“What do you think you are doing?” Anthony wasn't as friendly as his wife, narrowing his eyes and approaching Y/n to stand slightly in front of her.

“Lord Bridgerton, I guarantee nothing happened. I was simply, like you, taking a walk when I saw Miss Y/n. We only talk about what Lady Whistledown wrote.” Charles assured, sending a comforting smile to Y/n, who was watching the two nervously.

“It was mere chance that we found each other. We can go back to the house now.”

Anthony signaled to Kate, who nodded. They had mastered the art of speaking with just their eyes, it still left Y/n quite confused when they did that. But this time, she understood perfectly. Lowering her head slightly, she followed her sister and Hyacinth home, while Anthony and Charles remained behind. Over her shoulder, she mumbled a quick apology to the boy, hoping he would understand what she meant.

When the women were out of sight, Anthony turned to the Prince , who appeared unaffected. “I hope you’re not trying to ruin my wife’s sister’s reputation. You know very well what the ton would say if they found you in this situation. And I guarantee you, you don’t want to duel me.”

“I agree. That's the last thing I desire. Miss Y/n would certainly never speak to me again. And I don't want that. Lord Bridgerton, we were just talking, and on horses for more. But, for all the respect I have for Miss Y/n and the Bridgerton family, I assure you this will never happen again.”

"It better not."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After a tense conversation with Kate and Anthony, they believed Y/n when she said it was a coincidence to meet Prince Charles, but that she understood the gravity of being alone with a man.

So, she spent a few days locked up at home, hoping that the scandal had already been forgotten. However, this isolation couldn't last forever, so she was forced to join the Bridgerton family on a walk by the lake.

She had her arm linked with Benedict's, Eloise beside her, while they listened to Collin's travel stories. He had seen so much, experienced so many new cultures, that Y/n just wanted to know more. Eloise, in turn, seemed envious that only men could have the pleasure of traveling alone wherever they wanted, and Benedict asked about the art of each country, something that Y/n barely understood.

However, Collin ended up rushing the end of the story, seeing a group of girls walking, giggling when they saw him. Eloise groaned in disgust, while Benedict shook his head, changing direction so he wouldn't have to watch his brother flirt. Y/n also went with them, not wanting to see that scene.

But she noticed that they had been stopped by Lady Wilson, whose daughter was participating in the season along with Y/n, Francesca, and Eloise. "Good afternoon, Lady Wilson."

"Good afternoon." she said. "I noticed you didn't go to the ball yesterday. I haven't yet had a chance to talk with Lady Bridgerton to know if everything is alright."

"Thank you for your concern." Benedict said sarcastically, taking control since Anthony wasn't around. "We had other matters to attend, but I assure you that we will be present at the ball tomorrow."

"That's wonderful news." the woman said with a fake smile. "In that case you will be able to see my daughter dancing with Prince Charles, just like yesterday. They form a beautiful couple, don't you think?"

Y/n had to control herself not to roll her eyes. It was clear what Lady Wilson was trying to do, but there would be no reaction from her. Eloise and Benedict looked at her from the corner of their eyes, waiting to know if Y/n needed them to interrupt the conversation.

"I don't know. I didn't see them together nor did I have the opportunity to know about it since Lady Whistledown didn't write about them. And we all know that she writes about everything that happens, and it seems especially important if the prince is interested in someone to court. Looks like we'll have to wait and see."

"Yes, we shall wait." Lady Wilson clenched her jaw. "I'm certain that the prince loved to dance with my daughter."

"If you say so. Please excuse us, we shall return to the rest of our family." Y/n said dryly, hurrying to walk in the opposite direction with the two Bridgertons behind her.

"Jealous, dear sister?" Benedict asked with a sly smile once they were far enough away from the woman.

"No. Why would I be?" Y/n pretended not to be bothered, but in reality the thought of Charles dancing with someone else didn't sit very well with her. But what could she be expecting, she had said that they shouldn't talk anymore and he had to get married this season. "I'm just surprised that Lady Wilson is so confident in her daughter with the prince when the Queen wants him with the princess of Austria."

"Hmm." was the only response she received from Benedict. Eloise, already fed up with just hearing about the season, changed the subject and Y/n was also grateful for that. The last thing she wanted was to think about the next ball.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"What are you going to do?" Hyacinth asked as she helped Y/n and Francesca get ready for ball. The two had already put on their dresses and now all that was left was the jewelry. Kate had already come to say that they would have to leave soon, smiling calmly when she noticed the nervous state of her sister who had changed her dress about five times already.

“About what?”

“About the prince, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I am a little confused. This is all happening so quickly. And the fact that Lady Whistledown wrote about us didn't help. But the truth is that when I'm with him, I don't know, I feel different.” Y/n tried to explain, but realized she couldn't describe her feelings in words. It was something foreign to her, but not unwanted.

“I know what it is. You like him.” the Bridgerton dropped onto the bed dramatically.

“But liking may not be enough. Don't forget that the Queen has a lot of influence on these things. And I wouldn’t want to piss her off, it would only hurt all of you.”

"You are exaggerating. Francesca, what do you think of this?”

“What?” the girl snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her name. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What are you thinking about?” Y/n sat next to her, taking her hand.

“I haven't had almost any suitors yet. And the ones I have seem incapable of having a conversation. What if I don’t find anyone?” Francesca revealed with a sigh, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Nonsense. Everyone would love to dance with you. In fact, I have a feeling you are going to meet someone today.” the Sharma said. “And for that to happen, we must leave and go to this ball. If you need to, we can stay together all night.”

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. I want you to have your chance with the prince.”

“After all, you were listening!” Hyacinth exclaimed, groaning as the two left the room and left her there. Now she had to wait until tomorrow to find out everything that was going to happen!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ball was already full of people, from nervous mothers to innocent daughters who giggled when a suitor asked them to dance. Y/n and Francesca walked in together, both of them taking deep breaths and looking at each other in encouragement. They could do this.

While Francesca's nerves increased as she saw the Queen's eyes fall on her, Y/n's heart began to beat faster when she noticed Charles, who was standing next to his mother. However, he was not alone, finding himself in conversation with the princess of Austria. From what the Sharma could understand from the few moments in which she let herself focus on them, they seemed to be getting along well, sharing polite smiles.

"Maybe we shall get a refreshment first?" Y/n said, seeing that the family had already dispersed.

"A great idea." Francesca swallowed, nodding several times.

The two hurried to a corner of the room, sending a quick smile to the people passing by. Fortunately, no one engaged them in a long conversation, allowing them to mentally prepare themselves to face that night.

They stopped next to Penelope, who looked at the dancing couples with a sad look. "Are you alright, Penelope?"

"Yes, of course, Francesca." the redhead replied shyly, offering a small smile to the two girls. "You ought to take the floor."

"Ought we?" the Bridgerton chuckled humorlessly.

"Once one finds oneself on the wall, it is difficult to come off it. No matter what one does." Penelope looked down, pursing her lips.

"Better to be on the wall than to make fools of ourselves." Y/n she murmured, discreetly looking at the boy who had invaded her heart, still talking to the beautiful princess. Only this time, almost feeling her gaze on him, he glanced at her, showing what appeared to be a genuine smile. "This is so confusing."

"I agree. At least the wall doesn't ask me about what makes me tick." Francesca complained, still upset about the failed conversations from the last ball. The older girl looked at her understandingly, noticing that Francesca was more reserved. Maybe that was what made her rare, different from all the other girls.

"And why are you on the wall, Penelope? I'm sure there are lots of gentlemen here who would be more than willing to ask for your hand in a dance!"

"Oh no. Nobody wants to dance with me. Believe me." she replied with a slight blush, embarrassed that she didn't have any suitors when this wasn't her first season, unlike them.

"They must be blind, then. You are beautiful." Y/n confessed honestly, really confused that they let such an incredible person like Penelope escape. If she could, she would drag the redhead and Francesca to dance, but she knew it was against the rules.

The three fell into a silence, not uncomfortable, but as if they all had more to think about than trying to carry on a conversation. From the other side of the room, Charles watched Sharma as if in a trance, quickly leaving the conversation he was having to go to meet her.

However, he was interrupted by Charlotte who discreetly held his arm. "What are you doing? Must I remind you that you shall marry this season?"

"Why are you putting so much pressure on me with this. You have so many other children, but I'm the only one who has to suffer with this."

"Your siblings reproducing bastards for me to ignore. You are my last hope, son. I have made sure to give so many heirs to your father, and none of my children seem to be fornicating." she said. When she noticed that she was being too harsh with her youngest son, she sighed. "Bridgerton, Charles?"

"What seems to be the problem? You've already accepted many of their marriages, including naming two Bridgertons as diamonds of the season and ignoring the scandal between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Bridgerton." Charles controlled himself not to roll his eyes.

"Yes… But that was until my son was mentioned in the paper of Lady Whistledown because he was just interested in a girl. Especially when the princess of Austria traveled here just to meet you."

"And I enjoyed meeting her. But I enjoyed much more meeting Y/n Sharma." he admitted, his voice conveying the confidence he felt in those words. "She's the one I want. The one I'll follow to the end of the world if necessary. Don't make me marry someone else, mom, I want her. Just her."

"I believe the boy is in love." Lady Dandbury appeared beside them, looking at the boy with knowing eyes. Charlotte glanced at her from the corner of her eye. "The dance they shared was remarkable. The London Season is already terribly monotonous as it is. Therefore, these cases of passion make it more enjoyable. Don't you agree?"

"Indeed, Lady Danbury." Charles nodded, appreciating her help in convincing the Queen. "May I go now?"

Charlotte watched him for a few moments, noticing how he was restless, his body tilted towards Y/n. Almost as if he had no control over himself, unconsciously wanting to always be close to her. This wait was killing him.

The woman didn't respond verbally, just offered a small nod of permission, and her son was gone in the blink of an eye.

Almost running, the prince arrived next to Y/n, who continued to watch people dancing. She was now only with Penelope, as Francesca was taken by Violet to meet some suitors. Charles approached silently, placing himself in her line of sight and simply offering her a hand.

"What are you doing?" she whispered with wide eyes. Beside her, Penelope excused herself, giving the couple space. Not that they paid much attention, appearing not to have even heard her.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm asking you to dance with me."

"You don't give up, do you?" Y/n let a small smile appear, pretending to be upset by the boy's persistence. Inwardly, her heart was beating furiously fast. She didn't want to dance. She wanted to get away from there so she could be with Charles alone, the two of them talking all night.

But their moment was interrupted by Lady Wilson's daughter, who suddenly appeared and grabbed the prince's arm. "Prince Charles, you promised me a dance. Shall we?"

Y/n took a step back, trying to hide her sadness. Charles hadn't even removed her arm from his. This was a reminder that Charles was not yet hers, and with her indecision, that was becoming increasingly difficult. He had so many good options for marriage, why would he choose her? What made her special from all the others?

Trying to make sure no one saw the tears that threatened to appear, the Sharma decided it was best to leave for the rest of the night. Perhaps Anthony and Kate would believe she was feeling unwell and needed to go home.

But before he could move away completely, Charles snapped out of his shock, grabbing Y/n's hand to pull her closer while shaking the other woman's hold.

He clenched his jaw, upset at not being able to have a single moment of peace with Y/n. "My apologies, Miss." Y/n had to put her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement when Charles didn't remember the girl's name. "Right now, I would like to dance with Miss Y/n. So if you will excuse us."

"But—"

"What do you say, Miss Y/n. Shall you give me the pleasure of having this dance?" Charles asked quickly before the annoying girl spoke again. His attention was on Sharma, who was looking at him adoringly. Was this what people felt when they were in love? It felt like he couldn't breathe. In a good way.

"We shall… Charles." she laughed. Charles' mouth opened in shock, appearing to have frozen to the ground. In a playful way, she rolled her eyes, guiding him to the dance floor, which was now empty as people saw the two walk there.

Despite the nerves she felt, Y/n felt good with Charles, so she decided to ignore ton's opinions on this. The boy bowed as he offered her his hand, followed by a bow from Y/n, and immediately the music began.

"You called me Charles."

"A very good observation."

"You know, I thought Lord Bridgerton would kill me the moment I looked at you. It would be worth it." he twirled her around, loving it when he heard her little giggles. When she landed on the ground, her eyes found Kate and Anthony watching them, but instead of upset, they looked happy that Y/n was happy. "I must say that when you said we couldn't meet again, it hurt."

"My deepest apologies. How could I have said such absurd things?" Y/n said dramatically, noticing Charles' amusement.

"All is well now. As long as you promise to not run anymore. Even if Lady Whistledown or someone else writes about us. I promise I won't let anything hurt you or your family."

Y/n focused on his eyes. They were honest and had a glow of adoration about them. "What about the Princess of Austria?"

"As I also told her Majesty, I have no interest in her. My heart already belongs to you, Y/n. No one else can take your place."

The music was slowing down, indicating that it would end soon. The boy gripped Y/n's waist tighter, fearing that he would have to let go when he was enjoying savoring every moment of their closeness.

"My heart belongs to you too, Charles." she scrunched her eyebrows and Charles could feel his heart close to bursting. He wanted to marry her.

Instead, he controlled himself from saying it right away, knowing that he would have to talk to Anthony first and ask for Y/n's hand in marriage. Or he feared the Bridgerton wrath. For now, having Y/n in his arms was enough.

[allmydokkuns]

the brainworms have decided it's time for another ramble so on tonight's menu is Lan Qiren, no not like that please do not consume someone else's fictional uncle without said fictional uncle's consent. Vague spoiler alerts for character backstory and plot IG?

The running motif (might be the wrong word? Coincidence maybe?) of "younger uncle having to step in to parent the next generation because someone died or is Otherwise Unavailable" is really obvious with Lan Qiren. Very unfortunate for him, and I don't get to see a lot of interpretations of him in fandom that expand beyond the "stickler for the rules suffocating teacher ish figure" that we see of him re: the Cloud Recesses arc from Wei Wuxian's perspective. Therefore I'm just gonna slap some text into this post about all the things we don't really know about him but some stuff I assume or infer based on some shit in my brain yeah.

Lan Qiren, birth name and age unknown, is the younger brother of Qingheng-jun (name and age both unknown), and the paternal uncle of the Twin Jades of Lan. We know this cause both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji address him as "shufu," which is the more formal version of the "-shushu" WWX uses for Jiang Fengmian. In the absence of any other known siblings or close blood relatives of the main branch of the Lan clan, this also automatically made him, from his birth until the birth and successful upbringing of (at least) his elder nephew, the sect heir to Gusu Lan. I say this because it's important context for the role he plays in both the sect and his nephews' upbringing.

I'll talk a bit about Qingheng-jun and how the choices he made re: Xichen's and Wangji's mother/their marriage completely ruined Lan Qiren's and his son's lives. I don't think we know much about Qingheng-jun and Qiren when they were younger until Qingheng-jun apparently meets his wife-to-be and the situation escalates until he married her to protect her from execution (?) and proceeded to punish their whole immediate family by choosing to go into seclusion as well. You might argue that it was a good thing he recognized what a disaster this all was and took some kind of punishment for it, but. But. As the oldest son and older brother, he serves as the future sect leader, role model for the disciples, and has the duty to not only lead the sect but also guide any siblings he has from "taking the wrong path," so to speak. His choosing to go into seclusion is a punishment, yes, but was completely unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. Even assuming his now wife was a guest cultivator of some kind, he would have been well within his rights to step back and allow the rules to run their course once she committed a crime, to be startled out of his infatuation (?) with her into realizing that maybe she wasn't a good choice (or the only choice) for the future sect leader's wife, do his penance, and then move on. So why didn't he? Love, panic or obsession?

His choice to be secluded himself with her can mean different things depending on how you interpret the Gusu Lan practice of seclusion. Is it physical seclusion only, or did he take it to the extreme and was completely hands-off for everything from sect affairs to his children's upbringing? Obviously he had kids with his wife but that would be allowable since you know, marriage and heirs. The fact that the kids' monthly visits to his wife are mentioned but none to him kind of suggests that he had a minimal role in his sons' lives. Also it's super weird in the context of filial piety and the importance of a father in that role ethic. Fortunately for plot purposes, this role (and the duties thereof) he so very conveniently vacates can also be fulfilled by Lan Qiren.

The visits to their mother could be excused under the guise of letting LXC and LWJ exercise their filial piety, i.e. their respect for their mother. But all other duties normally carried out by the husband and wife as well as the sect leader and sect leader's wife would fall on Lan Qiren and whatever sect members/servants/caretakers were appropriate. E.g., as a man, Lan Qiren cannot nurse his nephews until they're weaned, but can choose nursemaids and servants who have the right skillsets to care for very young children. When they're older but still not old enough to be granted courtesy names/live in their own households, he is the obvious choice for them to live with, so they can be taught the rules, proper etiquette, how to read/write, etc. Again, as an elder, this would be part of his purview as their uncle, but he would not be primarily responsible for these things in their lives if it weren't for the extenuating circumstances of his brother's disaster of a marriage. Also important -- it seems he's also the face of the sect and is entrusted with handling politically significant intersect matters such as the guest disciples and the whole incident with WWX punching Jin Zixuan, which tracks with him being the only other candidate in the main family to lead the sect in his brother's absence.

Politically Qingheng-jun would have been doing Qiren a favor because he wouldn't be as important otherwise as a second son, if it weren't for the fact that Qiren gets all of the thankless work with none of the recognition. Qiren's significance as sect heir expired as soon as his sister-in-law gave birth to two healthy sons, at which point he's just a placeholder until Lan Xichen comes of age, UNLESS both of his nephews die with no heirs. And by all visible criteria, he's done a fucking good job too! If he was power hungry and coveted his brother's position, he didn't have to do such a damn good job of raising his nephews that they became the first and second highest ranked young men of their generation, you know?

Speaking of heirs, why is Qiren raising his nephews alone? Given the familial and sect obligations he has on his plate, it would have been reasonable for the sect to shore up any instability by finding a good match for him posthaste, which would have the added bonus of giving any potential nephews a maternal figure in their everyday life to handle the manners and etiquette bit, at least. Depending on the amount of time between marriage drama and Xichen being born, I can think of a couple of reasons:

Gusu Lan came out the other side of marriage drama and collectively went, we're not doing that shit again, and conveniently does not give Qiren any marriage prospects.

The rest of the jianghu hears rumors about the marriage scandal and maybe isn't as eager to marry off daughters into Gusu Lan as they might have been otherwise (yes, Qiren isn't as attractive a prospect as a first son, but he's still unattached, unless he has a reputation that dissuaded prospects in the first place)

Lan Qiren came out the other side of marriage drama and internalized that trauma, or maybe wasn't the marrying kind anyway (see marriage dynamics of the other sect leaders in the Big Five), and went "oh fuck no"

Gusu Lan's elders saw that Xichen had a lot of potential from a young age, and decided marrying Qiren off with the obligations of his own wife, children and household would be distracting him from nurturing the sect heir(s once Wangji is born) that they already have, with special emphasis on Qiren teaching them The Right Way To Be A Lan and maybe even fobbing more stuff to do on him so he never has the time to court and get married. Normally such things would be under the watchful eye of Qiren's parents, or Qingheng-jun once their parents were dead, but as we've already established, sect and familial duties don't seem to be a priority for that guy so.

Depending on how shitty you wanna believe the Gusu Lan elders are, maybe Qingheng-jun made a deal with them that he would have no part in raising any children from his marriage to help protect the woman he loved, idk. Can you tell I'm not very sympathetic to him? As far as I can tell, he trapped his wife, his sons and his brother into the consequences of his own actions and is basically the whole reason for LWJ's tragic backstory™ because God forbid any sect heir in this series have a healthy father-son relationship, am I right?

And then Qiren has to watch his younger nephew get whipped to within an inch of his life for finally breaking the rules (that he taught Wangji) they lived under so disastrously, and then his older nephew is so torn up about all the fun, fun revelations from Guanyin temple that history repeats itself and Xichen shuts himself away and Qiren can only hope that time will help Xichen heal, because Wangji's gone as soon as he possibly can to chase the man he almost died for once already, and he's older and tired but he might as well be young again and holding A-Huan for a walk around the courtyard until he stops crying for all that everything else has changed.

Anyway. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk about Lan Qiren, Gusu Lan's original Lan er-gege and Tragic Lan Backstory™, I'm gonna drop some headcanons about him and y'all feel free to reblog, reply, whatever with y'all's thoughts.

Lan Qiren's likes, in no particular order:

Respectful students that are diligent and work hard.

Hearing his nephews play music together.

A good pot of tea after a long morning's work, just before training and between meetings, paperwork, etc.

Copying over manuscripts/poetry/what have you in his spare time

Poetry

Lan Qiren's dislikes, in no particular order:

People that rely solely on luck, talent or family background to gain accolades

Things being wasted, food, potential, time, etc.

The gentian house.

Having to wait until it's almost curfew to meditate in the rabbit meadow.

Splinters

[encom1]

About muse [updated]—

Both young and old Lora are available for threads and questions. Both are open to interact with AUs, alternate timelines, doubles etc.

I’m using 1.0 and 2.0 as markers to distinguish the two, this has nothing to do with the video game timeline.

*Both versions of lora have no knowledge of the ENCOM system or of the grid, this is subject to change as plot lines progress and asks get submitted. Don’t take it out on her If she does not immediately believe you or recognize a character.

1.0-

The current year for her is 1984 (asks wise)

Lora is 28 years old and is still working on the laser team with Walter Gibbs who she sees as a father figure. She is well respected in her field and with those she meets.

She is in a committed four year relationship with Alan Bradley [[ just mentioned unless a partner is found/au etc]]

Appearance:

She is of an average height and build with yellowish blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She has large glasses and likes to dress in business casual attire, emphasis on the casual as she prefers jeans over of dress pants.

2.0-

The current year is 2011 (ask wise)

Lora is 55 years old and has been back at ENCOM for eight years now and is largely responsible for saving the companies face after “Flynn lives”. She’s been bounced around since then between marketing and development.

She has been married to Alan Bradley for 24 years.

While having had no children, they’ve had the occasional pet over the years. [[Jet would be an au and potentially angsty plot- son she never had and mother he has lost. But be warned I don’t know much about 2.0]]

Appearance:

Lora’s hair remains a stark blonde as she ages (with the occasional dye) and she wears contacts. She dresses much more formally than she had when she was younger. She wears an older style power suit with 2010s statement jewelry or when off hours you could find her in a blouse and jeans. She dresses in much darker colors than she had when she was younger.

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (34/44)

Chapter 34: King Richard

The next morning, a Giant man walked into the Big Corp building whom everyone knew, but few recognized at first sight. He was an older man with graying hair, but his hair was styled in a strange and unsightly way, shaved close to his head. His face had changed as well. The hollows were deeper under his eyes and cheekbones, contrasted by faded skin that hadn’t seen the sun. The furrows in his forehead and the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth were darker and more defined, as if carved into his mien with a knife. His chin and upper lip were grizzled and unshaven. His body was harder, cut with muscle, the body of a man who had labored through the hottest, darkest pit of hell with fantasies of violent revenge. He looked weary and haggard, yet there was a sadistic gleam in his pale blue eyes that made anyone who fell into those icy pools shiver. 

He knew exactly where to go. He felt like he was coming home, a twisted and backwards version of the prodigal son returning to the fatted calf. When he exited the elevator to his old fiefdom on the third floor, he was the king coming to reclaim his usurped throne. He moved with purpose to his rightful place, the private office that should be his. He carried in one hand a drink holder containing two fresh coffees and a plastic bag with two breakfast sandwiches: ostensibly, offerings to the current steward of his realm—or perhaps something more sinister. 

Before he entered his office, he stopped at the cubicle directly across the hall, standing at the entrance with a devious leer. He watched the familiar miniature denizen within dance at her keyboard with practiced skill as she labored to type with equipment that was too big for her to use. His eyes shined with a disturbing combination of fondness and hatred, his pursuit of lustful pleasure battling with his thirst for revenge. Above all, however, he had the toothy, drooling maw of a predator, and he prowled into her workspace with ravenous intent. 

Candy stopped and bristled with the natural instincts of a tiny prey animal. She sensed immediately that something was wrong, before she even glanced behind her to see who was shadowing her desk. She turned around and threw her head back to behold with abject horror the Giant towering into the sky above her, making her feel as small as an insect. He was the colossus from her worst nightmares, made harder and rougher by his time in prison, the Giant who had terrorized her even worse than Ronny, and had come dangerously close to changing her life forever for the worst: her old boss, Richard Hardon. 

“Miss me?” Mr. Hardon teased, closing in on her with a cruel sneer. Candy’s eyes rolled in her head like a spooked animal and she opened her mouth to release a bloodcurdling scream, but Mr. Hardon was ready for this response. He clamped his titanic hand around her like a straitjacket, muffling her screams so she couldn’t cry out for help. He raised her up the dizzying height to his mouth and brought her in close, so he could speak to her without anyone else overhearing. Candy convulsed in his hand, reliving her worst memories as she was bathed in the familiar odor of his warm breath. 

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, Candy! I’ve obsessed over you all this time I’ve been locked away, you know. You have no idea the things I’m going to do to you. This time, I’m not going to let you get away from me,” he whispered, tightening his grip around her. He licked his lips ferociously. Candy was unable to make a sound, but the rivers of tears running down her face betrayed her terror. Mr. Hardon smirked darkly. “Before we do anything else, though, let’s pay Mr. Griffin a visit.” 

He opened the door to his former office and shouldered his way inside, closing the door behind him. “Hello, Leon,” he uttered in a frigid tone.  

Leon looked up and his blood ran cold. “M-Mr. Hardon!” he stammered. Mr. Hardon sat down, set the food and drinks on the desk, and carelessly tossed Candy next to them. Candy scurried away, whimpering with fright. Leon scooped her up in his hands and held her protectively, away from the monster that he knew had abused her. His chest tightened as he felt her trembling in his hand. 

“Let’s have a chat, Leon,” Mr. Hardon began, the barb of a sharp threat underlying his words. “Here, take a coffee and sandwich, as a gesture of goodwill.” Mr. Hardon grabbed one of the disposable paper cups full of coffee and drank a healthy draught. “I want you to understand, I’m not here to take your job. No hard feelings here.” 

Leon wasn’t particularly hungry, but he took the other coffee to be polite. He sipped a small mouthful and prepared himself to listen to whatever Mr. Hardon was proposing. His former boss was a cherished member of Mr. Wolfe’s inner circle, so it couldn’t hurt to have him as an ally when he felt himself to be in such a vulnerable position. As much as the man before him disgusted him, he knew he was here to stay, so he should play nice. 

Mr. Hardon didn’t speak, however. He kept his coffee up to his mouth, a foreboding smirk gracing his lips, as if expecting something. Waiting. Leon stayed quiet and looked back at him, puzzled. With increasing discomfort, he took another sip of his coffee and averted his gaze. He felt strange. His stomach was starting to burn. He set his coffee on the desk and placed his free hand over his belly. The burning sharpened into stabbing cramps that spread through his insides. 

Leon grimaced and doubled over, groaning in pain. His stomach contracted and he belched loudly and uncontrollably, forcing air out of his innards. Candy stared up at him with concern. His skin suddenly felt stretched and tight, like it was squeezing around him. His limbs crumbled inward, as if folding in on themselves. Leon sank below the desk in agony. He stared up at Mr. Hardon’s face, plastered with a mocking grin. 

“W-what did you do to me?” Leon gasped, but he couldn’t say anything else as his throat and lungs constricted. His bones felt like they were bending and cracking under the pressure. His vision grayed to static and he cramped up involuntarily with a squelching pop into a fetal position with another loud groan. He blacked out for a second, but when he came to he was very confused. He was smothered in darkness and what felt like heavy blankets. He struggled to get out until he found an opening, poking his head out and gasping for air. 

He was very confused. He didn’t know what happened or where he was. He freed his shoulders and bare torso from the fabric and sat up. For some reason, his clothes had been stripped from him. His surroundings were unfamiliar. Mr. Hardon was gone. Instead, there was a woman standing next to him who looked vaguely familiar, staring at him and covering her open mouth with horror. Leon looked at her blankly. Even though he was sitting, her head came up to about the same height as his.  

“Who... what...?” Leon struggled to make sense of it all. He looked closer at the unknown woman, processing the details of her face. His eyes widened. It wasn’t possible. He hadn’t seen her in such detail before, but he still recognized her. “C-Candy...?” She was genuinely too stunned to form words, but she gave a small nod. “How did you get so big...?” 

Her face scrunched up and she shook her head. “No, Mr. Griffin...” Leon surveyed his surroundings and felt a jolt of frightened electricity in his gut. The impossible reality of his situation began to dawn on him. He recognized the heap of fabric he was sitting in as his own clothes, blown up on a vast scale. He was sitting within his own shirt collar, but the diameter of it easily exceeded his entire body, not just his neck. The wooden wall looming above him was his own desk. The chair he was sitting on had turned into a massive platform. Candy wasn’t big; he was small. Not quite as small as a human, perhaps double the size, but still very small. He gulped. 

A colossal silhouette blocked out the light above, and Leon craned his neck back in horror to discover just how terrifying a hostile Giant looked from a human’s perspective. Mr. Hardon was inconceivably massive as he planted one hand on the desk and the other on the back of the chair, leaning over the helpless little people with a crazed look in his eye. He laughed, a booming, unhinged sound that resonated throughout the room. Leon flinched, not expecting the loud volume, like movie theater speakers turned up to their full level. He could literally feel the vibrations of the sound waves through the air and the wood of the chair. 

“It worked! It actually worked!” Mr. Hardon thundered in his deafening voice, like a subwoofer. He reached his enormous hand down and Leon cried out in fear as he was snatched up. His stomach heaved as he ascended a staggering height at a rapid enough pace to give him vertigo. Mr. Hardon’s gargantuan face filled his vision. He could never have imagined, in his wildest dreams, just what it was like in reality to be so small. He had always felt sorry for humans around Giants, but he couldn’t comprehend the jarring perspective until it was made flesh before him. He trembled, feeling small, vulnerable, and naked before the Giant. 

“You-you drugged my drink!” Leon stuttered in disbelief. His voice sounded small and squeaky, even to his own ears. Mr. Hardon grinned, and the massive wall of slick white teeth, easily large enough to chew him up or bite him in half, made Leon recoil. He realized he hadn’t even begun to comprehend the horrors of being so small and helpless, and his shaking became uncontrollable. He was in serious danger. Mr. Hardon wouldn’t have shrunk him without the intention to torture or slaughter him in a horrific fashion. Suddenly, his job didn’t seem that important anymore. 

“P-please don’t kill me!” Leon begged. Mr. Hardon belted out a laugh. Leon, up close to his face, found himself staring into the Giant’s gigantic mouth as the teeth opened. He could see his huge tongue swimming in slobber, and the dark void further back, rimmed in deep red—perhaps the entrance to his grave, where he’d be buried in living flesh. He struggled, but he couldn’t budge the fingers crushing around him. “No!” 

Candy screamed far below, on top of the seat of the chair, but Mr. Hardon ignored her. “I’m so lucky!” he gloated. “I have the privilege of being the first Giant to find out if shrunken Giants taste like humans! And oh boy, am I famished!”  

He stuck out his tongue, a mammoth fleshy blob. Leon pulled away as the enormous tongue slapped his chest and ran up his neck and face, slicking his hair back on his scalp with saliva. Mr. Hardon boomed with laughter, hurting Leon’s ears. 

“I don’t believe it! You taste like a marshmallow! I knew you were a soft wimp, but damn! Not what I expected!” He guffawed again. “If I had known, I would have brought graham crackers and chocolate instead of sandwiches, to make you into a s’more!” Leon’s eyes popped out of his head when Mr. Hardon pulled one of the breakfast sandwiches out of the plastic bag. “Oh well, this will have to do...” 

Leon yelped, but there was nobody to save him as Mr. Hardon opened the bread and slapped him onto a spread of egg and cheese. Candy shouted obscenities down below, trying to distract the Giant as he reassembled the sandwich and trapped Leon underneath a sausage patty and a slice of bread larger than a mattress. Mr. Hardon smacked his lips, savoring the man’s cries as he flailed uselessly in the sandwich. 

“I think you’re a little bit too large to go down smoothly if I try to swallow you whole,” Mr. Hardon remarked. “So I’ll probably have to take a few bites...” He ran his tongue over his teeth and raised the sandwich up to his mouth, cracking his jaws open. Leon shrieked with a primordial wail of pure terror as he stared into the dripping red abyss before him. He was going to die. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable crunch of the gigantic teeth demolishing his fragile bones. 

Outside of the boss’s office, Ronny was in the break room with Tanya, refilling his coffee and chatting lightly with his love as she perched on his shoulder. As he returned to his desk, he heard strange sounds and voices emanating from the boss’s office. He paused, setting his cup down on the desk and collecting Tanya in his hand. He was getting an uneasy pit in his stomach, a disquieting sense of déjà vu. He had been through this before. He could swear he heard the familiar rumble of Mr. Hardon’s voice, accompanied by Candy’s desperate and furious exclamations. Perhaps even Mr. Griffin’s voice, but fainter and squeakier than usual. What the hell? Was he having some sort of weird flashback, or imagining things? 

“Do you hear those voices?” Ronny asked Tanya. He peered over the cubicle walls and noticed Candy was not at her desk. His heart started to throb. 

“Who is that?” Tanya asked. “Doesn’t sound good... Candy sounds like she’s in distress! You need to help her!” She clutched Ronny’s finger with her delicate hands. The Giant felt his stomach drop. He was reliving this terrible scenario again, but this time he had Tanya to protect as well. He couldn’t just charge in there with her in his hand; she might get hurt. Yet, he couldn’t leave her alone either, where an unfriendly Giant might grab her up. He was torn. 

“Hide behind the monitor, Tanya, and don’t let anyone see you,” he instructed her, placing her on the desk. “I’ll see what’s going on.” Tanya obeyed, staying out of sight while Ronny hurried over to the boss’s office. His stomach did a flip as he put his hand on the door handle. He didn’t know what to expect, but he assumed it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. 

Ronny opened the door, and the strange sight that assaulted his eyes confused and baffled him. He was shocked to see the grizzled, transformed form of Mr. Hardon, in the flesh, standing before him, jaws wide open, about to take a tremendous bite out of a sandwich. Ronny couldn’t see where Candy was, but she was screaming somewhere in the room. Upon closer inspection, Ronny was even more horrified to see a small man squirming in the sandwich, about to be bitten into. 

“Mr. Hardon!” Ronny exclaimed. The evil Giant didn’t hesitate to respond aggressively, catching Ronny off guard. He dropped the sandwich onto the table and rushed at Ronny, knocking him to the ground. His strength was more than Ronny anticipated for a man his age. After his stint his prison, he had increased physical strength and a rougher, more feral edge to him than before. He pinned Ronny to the ground and forced his jaw open, shoving something into his mouth, and clamped his hand over Ronny’s head. Ronny choked and felt something akin to a collection of pebbles slide down his throat. He coughed and struggled to breathe, finally managing to push Mr. Hardon off him. 

“What the hell was that?” Ronny shouted in a huff, scrambling back to his feet. Mr. Hardon sat up and pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket with a smirk. Ronny glared at him. “What are those?” 

Mr. Hardon didn’t bother to respond, or even stand up.  He just sneered menacingly at Ronny. He knew he had already won. Ronny rushed over to the desk to check on the humans, but he never made it. His stomach lurched, burning with fire, and his legs buckled underneath him. He contorted with acute agony, writhing on the floor. His limbs cramped up so hard they felt as if they were being pulverized in a vice. 

Mr. Hardon stood up, looming over Ronny, seeming to grow larger and larger above him in a warped perspective. “Let’s just close this up so nobody else tries to interfere,” he said, shutting and locking the door to the office. Ronny’s vision flashed and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. He heard his joints, muscles, and bones popping and cracking. His organs seemed to be smashing inward, expelling the air out of his lungs and stomach. He curled into a ball in agony. What the hell did Mr. Hardon give him? 

Chapter 35

Chapter 1

[crypticjackal13]

I have been hyper fixed on Red son for the past month and also LMK characters meeting future children with the reader. But I wanted a more extended story Red son meeting his future child and not the short bulletins and stuff.

Maybe it set like Meet The Robinson’s where Red is shoved into the future by accident but the only difference is that he knows that the child is his and the readers (He’s smart like that). They both try to get Red son back to the present while trying to not let the reader and the others know that he’s from the past. He gets to met his “friends” when their older and it’s really strange to him. I don’t really know how to end it so take as much creative liberty as you want with this story!

Oh my gosh I haven't watched Meet the Robinsons in FOREVER

Also. I did my best but this is more just a story of "oh woops time travel!" So enjoy lol

"No Touchy Please"(736 wc)

Redson meeting his and reader's future child

Fun oneshot

Pronouns: any for Redson, you/yours but you're not really involved

CW: uhhh none??

“What…where am I?” Redson got up from his spot on the ground as he tried to get a handle on their surroundings. One moment, she had been in their lab, showing y/n his new Time Machine…the next, there was a flash of light and they had no clue where he was. 

Dusting themselves off, they recognized the space. Albeit covered in different blueprints and furniture, the room was the same—it was still the lab they always worked in. It was even still missing its smoke detector, for obvious reasons.

They walked over and examined the first paper they could see. It was a messy sketch, but he could tell it was meant to be a hover bike. What made it special, a poorly handwritten note said, was that the wheels could transform and make it a regular bike if needed. Smart, they thought.

The sound of the door’s code being entered caught his attention and immediately they prepared to either hide or attack. What threw them off was the appearance of a teenager-looking person.

He was below her current height, with messy red hair that was pulled back into a bun that clearly was too much for the hair tie. He had eyes that were the same color as y/n’s. And there was a sizable seat of bull horns with a bull tail to match.

“What on earth…Who are you?!” They both pointed at each other, like that one Spider-Man meme that Mei had shown Redson a while ago. It would have made them laugh, were they not currently panicking and realizing that not only had the time machine worked, but they were face to face with his and y/n’s child.

“I’m the owner of this lab! And you—“ the teen paused, looking Redson up and down. “—look scarily like my dad.” 

“That’s because I am! But, if I know anything about time travel, I can’t see myself. So now I’m making it both our problem.” They fixed their glasses. With a scoff, the teenager looked around. 

“I don’t see a time machine.”

“So I’ll make a new one while I’m here,” Redson began poking around the different toolboxes and scrap metal in the space. “In the meantime, what’s your name?”

“It’s Zhou. And I can help, you know!”

They continued to try and make small talk with each other while they worked to put together a much more compact version of the time machine, however Redson couldn’t help but be distracted by Zhou. Sure, he looked like Red, but he acted a lot like y/n. He was careful with whatever he built, and his powers were concentrated. He grew worried when he’d almost accidentally burnt Redson, even though they both were fireproof. It honestly was sweet to see.

“There. Now I’ll be going—“ Red stopped when Zhou caught them by the hand.

“You can’t just jump in! You need to do a test run!” He suggested. Red stepped back and looked around, before seeing a blank piece of paper and crumpling it. She threw it inside the machine and set it to a few weeks in the future. 

“If I’m correct, which I usually am, this paper will come back and be a small pile of dust.” They pressed the buttons and the machine vanished in a flash of light. It reappeared only a moment later. Lo and behold, the paper was no longer a crumpled ball, but was a small dirt pile. 

“I guess it does work.” Zhou said. 

“Indeed. I’ll be off now,” Redson paused halfway into the machine, looking back at her future child. He stood with a hand on his other arm, tail swaying as he looked at the ground. Redson sighed. They reached a hand out and patted him on the head. “Thank you for helping me. I can’t wait to meet you again.”

And in another flash of light, the machine was gone. 

Redson was happy to reappear in the lab again, this time right where they were before. Y/n was still sitting in the chair that was closer to the desk. 

“So, how was it?” She asked.

“Huh? How long was I gone?”

“Only a few seconds. What’d you see?”

“Oh, um…” Red hesitated, stepping out and dusting themselves off. “I don’t know. It looked about the same.”

“Aw man. No cool flying cars?”

“My love, we literally have hover bikes.”

“Oh, right!”

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Rose Colored Glasses

Summary:  Ethan sacrifices everything for family. Then, with help from a familiar face, he moves on.

Notes:  Just a little something brought on by me lamenting the fact that there aren't enough fics out there that just have the Winterses and Bakers being normal friends and family.

AO3

The third time Ethan dies, he wakes up warm.

It’s a large step up from the frozen wasteland Eveline greeted him in, but the process of coming back is still just as painful. This time, it’s not his chest feeling hollow or his ribs burning as they scraped together after being shoved into the cavity where his heart was supposed to be. Now it’s mostly a full body ache; for a moment, before his thoughts reorder into some semblance of sense, Ethan thinks wildly that he has the flu, that everything since Mia had finished making dinner had to be a fever dream. She made soup--maybe because he’s been sick? She was always better at noticing when something was wrong than Ethan was. She probably put him to bed after dinner, gave him a cold compress maybe, and he’d passed out and thought up the entire nightmare because of that stupid children’s story.

The ache eases, though, almost immediately, leaving behind the warmth sinking into his bones. Ethan sighs but doesn’t open his eyes. It was all real--he knows that. He died--again--and now he’s...somewhere else. But the air isn’t cloying in his lungs, and he doesn’t hurt anymore, and it’s so, so comfortable, so he doesn’t suppose he minds too much. Rose is safe, Mia is safe, even Chris is safe. Hasn’t he earned a little rest? Hasn’t he earned the right to close his eyes for a while?

Sensation filters back in gradually, and Ethan realizes all of a sudden that he isn’t wearing his jacket or hoodie anymore. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. He doesn’t feel the heavy weight of his hiking boots on his ankles. His pants feel clean and unwrinkled, rather than stiff with bloodstains. There’s a constant pressure at his back holding him up, like lying on a brand new mattress. Then sound fills his ears; rain against a windowpane, his own soft breathing, the far-off sound of pots and pans and a stove turning on. His nose twitches when he smells something spicy and full-bodied, a good home-cooked meal. But Ethan still does not open his eyes. They’re too heavy. The ache has passed, but Ethan’s body is so very heavy.      

Even when a hand passes over his brow, Ethan can’t seem to find the strength to open his eyes. The fingertips are square and blunt, the skin worn from hard work. The palm rests gently over his brow before moving on. Ethan thinks of Mia, running her fingers through his hair every time he’d get sick, and cannot keep in a tiny, miserable noise.

“Shh, you're alright, son,” says a familiar voice. It’s less rough now, less demented than Ethan remembers it. Kinder, definitely. “You’re alright now. You’ve gone through enough pain to warrant a little rest.”

Ethan murmurs incomprehensibly, even to himself, and drifts.

When he wakes again, he is still warm. It makes him sigh and settle before finally, finally, opening his eyes.

The room he is in is rustic, with old, worn carpets and wooden furniture. The bedframe is wood too, and his blanket a deep blue, obviously hand-knit. The rain still patters away at the window above his head, but it's gentle and calm. A pair of loafers he recognizes as his own wait at the foot of his bed.

Sitting at his bedside, his glasses slipping halfway down a sloping nose, is Jack Baker.

“Hello, Ethan.”

“Hello, Jack.”

Ethan sits up, scrubs a hand through his hair and over his eyes. A phantom pain twinges through his wrist and he hisses, but it’s gone the next second. Jack hums and nods. “You’re feelin’ some pain?”

“Just the old ones,” Ethan tells him, letting resignation drip from his words. Waking up to a dead man-turned-monster after his own death is just par for the course at this point. Somewhere between getting his hand chopped off by a monstrous version of his wife and realizing that Mother Miranda ripping his heart out was not, in fact, the first time he died, Ethan stopped trying to make the world make sense. Jack Baker waiting for him in the afterlife? Fine. Sure. Why not?

“That’ll happen for a while,” Jack tells him, still gentle as a lamb. “The older they are, the more the pains stick around. They’ll leave you eventually. Just takes some time.”

Ethan nods and swings his legs out of bed. He looks up, considering, and at the openness of Jack Baker’s face, quirks the corners of his mouth up. “This is it then, huh? This is the end.”

Jack smiles too, wider than Ethan thinks he could manage. “Don’t know ‘bout that--but this is what we have for now. Reminds you of old times, huh?”

“Just not the good times,” Ethan says.

“No,” Jack agrees tiredly. “Not the good ones.”

His companion is silent as Ethan slips on his shoes and, after another pause, clumsily folds the blanket he has been given. Afterwards, he has to admit he can’t prolong the inevitable any more. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

Jack seems to take him at his real meaning, take his words for what are you doing here with me, Jack? “You remember what I told you the last time we saw each other, son? What I asked you to do?”

“‘Free my family.’” Ethan repeats. Those words have haunted him for longer than he’d have thought possible. All that death and the blood resting squarely on his hands--could it really be labeled as freedom?

Jack leans forward and, telegraphing his movements, slowly places his hand over one of Ethan’s. His fingers are square and strong and soft against Ethan’s reflexive fist. He finds himself relaxing far more quickly than he’d have expected. “You did as I asked you, Ethan,” Jack tells him. “Even though it pained you, even though it was the most difficult thing in the world for me to ask of you, you helped us. You didn’t have to.”

Ethan stares at him blankly. “Sure I did.”

“Oh?” Jack smiles, leans back and crosses his arms. His rocking chair is more stable than the one they’d had Eveline’s old body stored in back in Dulvey. It creaks with his movements. “You could’ve broken a window and run for it. You found your wife and could’ve gone off into the woods instead of facing Eveline. But you stayed, and you helped, and now we’re here instead of stuck in that mold.”

“Well--but--it wasn’t like I had a choice--” Ethan tries, his tongue feeling thick and strange in his mouth. No one has ever actually sat and talked with him about what happened in Louisiana, never acknowledged what he’d had to sacrifice before Ethan himself brought it up. Even Mia shied away from it. Taking a deep breath, Ethan tried again. “It was just the right thing to do.”

“But you did it, Ethan. No one else. So thank you.”

And well, that is true, so Ethan keeps his mouth shut. He shrugs, feeling awkward and embarrassed and not sure why. Jack Baker takes pity on him after a silent moment. “Since you helped us, we decided to wait for you. To make sure y’all are safe and sound when it came to be your time.” Jack looks over the rim of his glasses at Ethan, and for a second Ethan feels like a little boy about to be scolded. “We thought it would be quite a while before you showed back up, son.”

Ethan snorts. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Don't see why you should apologize for saving your daughter. There is nothing disappointing about you, Ethan.”

That warmth increases in Ethan’s chest. “Who else is here? Marguerite?”

Jack nods and softly claps his hands on his thighs. “She was fit to be tied when you showed up so unexpectedly. She’s downstairs now, getting some supper ready. We figured you’d be a bit peckish.”

For how well his last dinner with the Bakers went, Ethan feels considerably less apprehensive at the smells wafting upstairs. “What about Eveline? Lucas?”

“Lucas comes and goes,” Jack tells him. “He’s--he’s Lucas. It’s been harder for him than the two of us. He’ll come around.”

Ethan privately thinks that is the absolute last thing Lucas Baker will ever do, but keeps it to himself. “Eveline?”

“Nowhere we can see.”

He thinks of the cold, the snow, the mud and dirt and loneliness he woke to when he died at Miranda’s hand. “She probably doesn’t like company these days,” Ethan mutters.

If he hears Ethan’s comment, Jack doesn’t react. He stands then, and cracks his back, letting out a loud groan. Ethan smiles a little more at the humanity in the action. This is who Jack must have been before--well, before everything. Perhaps, if he and Mia had met them under different circumstances, they'd have been friends with the Bakers. Perhaps neighbors. Perhaps they’d have let the Bakers babysit Rose once in a while.  

“Zoe is the last one we’re waiting for,” Jack says. “She won’t be here for a long while, God willing. You’re welcome to wait with us for as long as you like, of course.”

“I’ll need to stay for Mia and Rose.”

“Of course. Would you like some company?”

Ethan blinks before taking Jack’s offered hand, letting the older man pull him to his feet. “You’d wait with me? Even if Zoe comes first?”

Jack claps a hand to Ethan’s shoulder and lets it rest there, warm and reassuring. “For as long as you’ll have us, Ethan, it would be our privilege.”

The gorge in his throat swells, his face grows tight and his eyes prick. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack inclines his head and leaves the words hanging in the air between them, comfortable and knowing. As he turns to lead Ethan out of the room, Jack pauses. “Oh, you got any good stories about little Rosie? I’m sure Marguerite would love to hear some. Been such a long time since we had a baby in the house.”

Ethan smiles, and nods, and lets the warm glow of the home beyond his doorway guide him out.

[demonslayedher]

Buri-senpai~ it’s me again! It seems like the Kamado family was respected in town. How do you think the townsfolk would’ve reacted once they realized that Tanjirou hadn’t been visiting with charcoal, only to check up on the family where they see the wreckage. Perhaps Tanjirou had left a rushed note, noting how his family was attacked, how only he and Nezuko were alive, and how they won’t be able to visit for a very long time. If that’s the case, I don’t think Tanjirou will explain the cause 1/3

2/3 of the attack, but there’s a chance that Saburo would’ve eventually realized that a demon had attacked them. Also, side notes: if Kaigaku was still a demon slayer during the events of the red light district, do you think he would've heard about Zenitsu's contributions to the defeat of upper 6? I had read your amazing Ukogi fic and enjoyed the characterization of Kaigaku's crow embellishing his achievements as a slayer. I also enjoyed Matsuemon's fondness of Nezuko and it seems like

3/3 he was ‘conspiring’ (for lack of a better word) with Oyakata-sama behind the scenes, with how the events at Asakusa with Tamayo played out. I'm sure Tamayo's existence was pardoned by the Oyakata-sama of Yoriichi's time. Also, sorry for the length! I enjoy your input on everything!

Going to reply to this in a couple parts, but allow me to first borrow one of my LINE stickers to express:

I'll reply to the fic stuff under the cut, but I'm really honored by your close reading and consideration of one of my favorite fics, "The Legend of Ukogi." But first for your question about Tanjiro!

Honestly, I was surprised by the village's upkeep of their home, including nice new tatami and shelves which Nezuko noticed in the extended epilogue included the Volume 23 version of Chapter 204. I would had assumed they'd have a mess of a home to come back to (and wrote my canon diverent/continuation fic that way, for the first draft was written after Chapter 204's magazine publication but before Volume 23's publication). At least nowadays in Japan, uninhabited homes are often left as-is and fall to shambles, even in cities, causing problems for the neighbors as they become home to pests. Upkeep is an issue, and it seems unlikely the townspeople would had gone out of their way to keep the site of a tragedy so nice.

However, Gotouge seems to stress that the Kamado family, simply for being good people, were often humbled by being on the receiving end of such kindnesses. Even Sumiyoshi and Suyako were on the receiving end of this, as mentioned in a Taisho Secret in Volume 22, for having helped a local lord's wife and son while they were in peril without knowing who they were. Even though they tried to refuse reward, they made sure they had a nicely fixed up house anyway (side note, they moved in to Yoriichi's and Uta's abandoned house).

A sturdy house as returns for their kindness seems to be as much of a running theme in Kamado history as is Hinokami Kagura and making charcoal. We do see that Tanjiro is pretty popular among the townspeople and everyone knows they can rely on him, and if Tanjiro's highly biased word is to be trusted, Nezuko had a reputation as a local beauty. In good whether the little kids must had gone into town a bunch, and Tanjiro (and Inosuke's) continued charcoal business (despite the increasing reliance on electricity) in the Fanbook #2 extended epilogue shows that the Kamado family has always had a reputation for high quality charcoal. Certainly, they've been well-loved long enough that their tragedy would not go unnoticed.

As further evidence of this, in the Giyuu Gaiden, a hunter even notices that on a different mountain nearby there was a family of charcoal farmers slaughtered and a suspicious person in a half-and-half haori was seen around there. Clearly, the villagers were quick to notice the incident and start looking around for the man who might had done it!

But we're still left with the question of how quickly they'd have noticed the absence, how word got around, and just how much they knew. My initial thought in response to your Ask was "there's no way Tanjiro had time for that, he had bury his family and get Nezuko dressed and hurry and go!" but then again, this is Tanjiro we're talking about. Tanjiro who faithfully keeps a diary for Nezuko no matter how tired he is, and who faithfully keeps in touch with all his penpals even with all his demon slaying work to keep him busy. If anyone would had written a letter, it would had been him.

It's possible that his reasoning would had been for Nezuko's sake. Should word get around about the incident, and about Nezuko being a demon, people might suspect she was the one who did it. Even Tanjiro had to consider that possibility when he was first shocked by her transformation, though he had the evidence to clearly determine that she was innocent. So maybe if he did leave something, it might simply had been to inform people that Nezuko still needs help, and he's left to take care of her.

To the townspeople, Tanjiro's word is trustworthy. As soon as someone discovered the incident (and perhaps a letter), word would probably get around pretty fast, and if Tanjiro had circumstances that forced him to leave for Nezuko's sake, that implies that they might make a return once she was alright. That might be what inspired the townspeople, who cared for generations about their local charcoal farmers, to have their hearts wrenched with sympathy for the tragedy these two surviving children have been through, and to try to do what they can by taking care of the house while they're gone.

As for knowing if it was demons or not, it's possible only Saburo knew that. There's so much we don't know about Saburo, but my personal headcanon is that he lost his family to demons and was rescued by the Demon Slayers. While others might have been quick to blame the suspicious man in the half-and-half haori, anything said by Saburo, a man perhaps known for keeping to himself with a sullen personality, was dismissed or taken for mere superstition. Saburo, having told Tanjiro to stay with him that night, might had already felt something was off, and when the feeling kept bothering him, he might had gone to check on the Kamado family and been the first one to discover the massacre. Letter or not, he'd have known Tanjiro survived, and might had gotten there soon enough to trace the footprints to deduce to that one of the other older children must had survived too.

Now because of fic spoilers, Bird Fic commentary below!

As I was doing my best to make that fic fit alongside canon, I tried to consider where the birds might and might not been able to influence the events of canon, and that made Denroku (Kaigaku's crow) one of my favorite small bits to work with. Even though he never makes an appearance in the story (only mentioned as a slightly antagonistic bird), he struck me as having the most potential for influencing events.

Since we see a general pattern of the birds being very invested in the Slayer they work with, I imagined that Denroku would pick up on Kaigaku's ambitions. When he got in trouble for embellishing Kaigaku's achievements, that's when he tries the reverse, taking assignments into his own talons and leading to Kaigaku fighting an enemy out of his league. While most of the Kasugai-garasu would had immediately reported Upper Moon 1 so that a Pillar could be summoned, Denroku's underhanded drive to see Kaigaku promoted is what leads to a situation the Corp would had preferred to avoid.

And that brings us back to Matsuemon, who does his best to promote his underlings' achievements to get Tanjiro recognized as a Pillar. He is protective of Nezuko, having picked up on that from Tanjiro, but honestly, I had not considered Matsuemon leading to Tanjiro's encounter with Tamayo. Letting Oyakata-sama know about it, though, that does seem in character for Matsuemon, which we'll get to!

As for why Tanjiro encountered Tamayo so early on, I posited in this Ask that Oyakata-sama probably was hoping Tanjiro would make a connection with her. Gotouge has stated that the demon Tanjiro was sent to investigate in Asakusa was Tamayo. Like you, I assume that Kagaya's forefathers must had chosen to pardon her existence out of Yoriichi's good word for her, and we know from his later mention of her to Tanjiro and efforts to reach out to her later that he's probably always been curious about a way to gain her trust.

What probably gave him the idea to use Tanjiro, a kid with a demon sister, was Urokodaki's letter. We didn't hear the full letter read allowed at the Pillar meeting, but my thought is that Urokodaki wrote highly enough of Tanjiro that Kagaya was like, "aha! This is it! This might be the person who helps me gain Tamayo's trust!" and that was why he sent Tanjiro to Asakusa on his second mission. As for whether Matsuemon knew that or not, I suspect not initially, but he might had gotten aware of it overtime and been in on the loop of birds who know this but help keep it on the downlow, as per Oyakata-sama's request. Matsuemon might had also been given special instructions to report details to the Kasugai-garasu who initiated the personal correspondence between Oyakata-sama and Tamayo. Knowing this egotistical bird he probably would had loved to brag about it, but he's smart enough and respects the Corp mission enough to know when to keep silent about his achievements.

EDIT: Ack! I forgot to respibd to your Kaigaku question. I do assume Kaigaku was still a Corp member at that time and he probably heard and that it ticked him the hell off. Even if he didn't know the details, the fact that Zenitsu would had been credited with fighting an Upper Moon would tick him off with jealousy. Not to worry, Kaigaku, Upper Moon 6 is only the bottom rung of the Upper Moons. ; P

[analviel]

Idea: ReverseRobins!Damian wakes up in the body of canon!Damian.

Details:

>In both worlds, Tim is Red Robin and Jason is Red Hood.

>Tim in Reverse Robins don't kill people, he maims them, with the belief that without limbs, they're unable to hurt people and can focus on regaining their sanity that way (he died by killing himself after being turned into Joker Jr). "They can regain their minds without their limbs. Especially without their limbs."

>And unlike Lazarus!Jason, his main emotions isn't anger, but apathy. Doesn't care for anything that isn't his Mission. If you get in his way is the only time he'd give you attention.

>Rr Jason took on the name of the Red Hood because it won't be traced back to the Bats (same reason canon!Tim wore Red Robin).

>Damian's reaction to Tim's death hadn't been to retreat, but to lash out. It was a... very bloody few months for Gotham and Bludhaven.

>Rr Tim never went out of his way to try to kill Rr Jason because he, just, doesn't care. But Jason tried to stop him once from brutally maiming someone and the consequences was... bloody, to say the least.

>Rr Tim kind of totally blackmailed Bruce into being his official guardian after both his parents died in Haiti (because Bruce wasn't there to slap the poison from Jack).

>Rr Damian finds it very weird that Jon is younger than him here.

>Because there were already other kid fighters before Rr Tim entered the picture, and he never expressed interest in specializing in combat, Rr Tim had been the sort of Oracle of the Rr Bats, doing most of what Alfred does in the cave so the old butler can focus more on maintaining the manor and also just lightening his burden. He only has Robin sometimes and is mostly trained for mid to long range (because unlike Damian, Steph, and Duke, he didn't come with street fighting experience and since he never pushed, Bruce was fine letting his sort of son do his thing in the background, primarily trained in dodging -Not that it helped him with Harley's mallet, Damian bitterly thinks).

>When ReverseR Tim came back from the League though, he knew how to fight close combat (a Chinese war sword I think is the name of the weapon I'm thinking) which is the main reason the Bats didn't recognize him immediately.

>ReverseR Stephanie was paralyzed and started handling the comms and the medical stuff. She's a med-student but probably has more know how than doctors twice her age. She was Batgirl first then became Spoiler when she pass it on to Cass. Because "Spoiler alert, there's a guy coming up to your ten and Penguin is having his unboxing of some sick weapons".

>Jealousy did get in the way of Rr Damian and Tim's relationship but it had gotten better. The last time they saw each other before Tim was ambushed by the New villain Harley Quinn on the way back home, Damian had thrown him out, tired of people trying to make him feel better after something happened to Jon. (I'm tempted to deage Jon as his canon was aged up.....).

>Rr Jason uses guns and it's allowed because his big brother is Damian.

>Just as Dick set the tone for the following Robins, Damian did the same for his Robin (Hoods). Just as Thirteen Jason had been a much happy and peppy kid than Nineteen year old Dick Grayson, Thirteen Tim is much more like Bruce than Nineteen Damian, so the friction mostly came from there. Also Ra's liked Tim a bit too much so there's also that....

>Rr Damian is absolutely the aloof helicopter parent. Which does sound contradictory, but he makes it work. Rr Damian and Rr Jason have their own version of Dick and Tim's relationship closeness. (The flaw in this is that he's like Bruce in that... if he believes its good for you, he can convince himself he doesn't need to get your consent. He knows better.)

>Rr Jason and Cass are very close but disagree quite a lot. You can always find them bickering. From who's the older one to who gets shotgun in the Batmobile, to things like morals and which classics actually deserve to be burned.

>Talia tossed Jason in the Lazarus but Rr Tim had been healed by Ra's.

>Rr Tim had been tortured same amount of time as Tim Todd, and he also had that chip. Only difference, he'd also been programmed into following Joker's orders to the letter. "Kill him JJ!!" "No! Tim, don't be a killer."

Tim can't kill Bruce. He also can't kill Joker.

There were only three 'hims' in that room.

"Kill him JJ!"

The only reason I want Damian to be there at the scene, like, just a few seconds late, is because I want flashbacks. Then again, he can also just watch the same recording Bruce probably tortures himself by watching too.

>Pre-Jason death was Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Barbie. Pre-RrTim death was Bruce, Alfred, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph.

>Young Justice happened too but Tim just had Superboy and Impulse wear cameras and comms. Tho Tim still met Bart personally in civilian. And steadily drawn out eventually for him to appear in person more.

>Not really Bat related, but Kon has a much better reception with Jon excited for a baby brother.

>Rr Dick is A.DO.RA.BLE. And kept far, far away from Rr Tim.

>Rr Barbara is the third Batgirl after Cass becomes Black Bat and Jason is Red Hood.

>During the Bruce is dead (in the Reverse Robins-verse), there is no Battle of the Cowl (duh, no matter what world Tim still wouldn't seek it out without sound and desperate reasons and Damian had literally spent his whole life assurinb his stake on it)(it still happened in canon-verse tho), but I don't know if I want RR!Damian to Possess canon!Damian before, after, or during it. They fully believe that Rr Bruce is dead until Rr Jason's path cross with Rr Tim and Tim.... hmmm, he genuinely doesn't care, so I wonder how and why he's going to drop a hint. This time, Tim knows because he'd seen some ancient records in the League but Tim didn't really pursue that. He wants something from Jason in exchange, and after that hint, Jason then goes on his trip around the world for proof he barely believes is there but can't help but hope. He does not tell Damian because he's not going to give the blood son possible false hope. And also I'm not sure the difference in how Damian would've handled the Robin debacle since Dick wouldn't take it from his big brother, but Kid Dick is a very angry vengeful little shit that really wants to go kill Tony Zucco so.... Jason was probably guilted/forced into passing it on for the kid's sake and there's just a tiny, tiny bit of bitterness.

>And i also want a scene where canon!Tim and Rr!Jason share a commiserating look after having to deal with this shitshow of a family and their respective predecessors' shit.

To elaborate: Timeline is further along in canon. So Reverse Robins are still around dead/lost!Bruce while canon!verse is sometime after they've retrieved Bruce and Dick is out of the Cowl.

[whump-town]

The Blood That Haunts Me

post-scratch fic

no pairings

Hotch has a bad heart

word count 6k

In Savannah Hayes’ experience, Saturday’s are typically for parents with screaming toddlers looking for emergency medicine to soothe their fears about whatever toy their child has shoved up their nose or to ask an aged nurse what to do with this croup that just won’t go away. It’s scrapes and bruises from a fender bender with kids just learning to drive and roughly two to three broken arms from seven-year-olds learning to ride a bike without training wheels. With any luck, there will be only one underage kid in a banana bag and the college kids will be in and out for stitches and gone as quickly as they come. There’s always the regulars - older men and women that buzz with the opportunity to be out of their houses even if it’s to withstand the pain of stitches and staples on their thin skin.

Rarely has Savannah faced a Saturday where she knew someone being pulled into her emergency room. Virginia isn’t the biggest place but her friends are young and healthy and Saturdays are for squirmy children and stupid teenagers. When she sees him with his ankles stretched out over the end of the stretcher and a large hand weakly fighting with the paramedic to hold the oxygen mask over her face she’s certain of his identity. She’s good with faces and his is unmistakable.

“You shouldn’t be on break yet, baby.” Derek picks up on the first ring, the sound of Hank babbling loudly in the background making him chuckle deeply as he moves. The phone pinched between his shoulder and cheek, she can hear him pick up their son. Talking back to the baby.

Savannah is sitting in the emergency room, camped out behind the desk as she catalogs patient information. Despite it being a Saturday, the hospital is startlingly pretty timid (knock on wood). When there is a new patient the clatter is noticed. So when Hotch came in, supine but weakly fighting against the oxygen mask pulled down over his mouth, Savannah noticed. Even drugged and combative, he’s distinctly himself.

And as Savannah tells Derek, describes the man she’s quite fond of, he doesn’t believe her. Hotch doesn’t go to the hospital and no one’s heard from him in forever, he’s probably not even in Virginia. Garcia said Jack started high school last fall and if they were home and situated again with no contact then… Well, what are they supposed to do? “Derek--” Savannah can hear the pitch change in his voice. Derek goes from dismissive to genuinely worried and now pulling at strings because no one has talked to Hotch in months (nearly two years) and the idea of seeing him now is terrifying. “I am positive that it’s Hotch.” She leans around the monitor, frowning as she watches some nurses she knows buzz around him. Throwing out words she can’t make out entirely but she can see what they’re doing and it makes her heart jump a little to hear medications that they put orders out for.

Hotch makes a noise - it has to be loud for her to hear it from the distance she’s at. “Baby,” she stands and it makes her heart do a weird clenching thing when she catches a glimpse at his face. Sees that he’s crying and clearly upset. “Derek, he’s getting all kinds of agitated. I’m gonna call you back in a second, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and tosses her phone down on her chair before calling out for one of the nurses she recognizes with a wave.

The nurse smiles when she sees Savannah - she’s got a particular gift with patients like Hotch.

“I know this one,” Savannah says, approaching the bed. “What have you got?”

Savannah doesn’t have all the details on the accident that occurred in 2009 with George Foyet. It’s not Derek’s story to tell and it’s not exactly the easiest one to bring into conversation. She’s aware of vague things like his collapse a few years later from scar tissue that caused him to bleed internally and that Hotch's ex-wife was killed by a serial killer. Mostly, she knows that Hotch is dependable and secure and that when he went into witness protection nearly two years ago his absence had crushed them all. Even if the likes of Emily Prentiss and her just as stubborn as hell husband would never admit it.

“Mild tachycardia and respiratory depression -” The nurse tells her about Hotch’s underactive thyroid, something he’s supposed to take medication for ever since the stabbing damaged the organs function. How it’s throwing his heart into tachycardia and it’s getting worse, not responding to medicine yet.

Savannah may not know what happened with George Foyet but she knows Derek regards Hotch as this infallible wall of a man. One she’s come to understand he thinks can’t ever fall down and one that, despite how fondly he’ll speak about him, annoys the hell out of him. Personally, Savannah thinks Aaron Hotchner is just a sweet man. She likes him and his little quirks. He’s quite the odd pairing when he gets together with Emily and Dave but they’re a funny crowd.

What she isn’t expecting is the mess of scars littering his chest. Experience allows her to date some of them by sight - their distinct shape and coloration clustering them into the same time frame and she can’t imagine how someone gets over half a dozen wounds like that at once. They don’t end there. On his right side, there’s a nearly faded out of existence scar from a chest tube. A puncture wound- something blunt she’d assumed by way of its roundness. Even a few rougher-looking, jagged scars that she assumes are shrapnel because Derek has nearly identical ones.

Savannah is a few moments too late to prevent Hotch from being pulled down by a sedative but he’s fighting it, blinking slowly to try and remain awake. “Hey,” she greets softly, turning his wrist over so she can see IV sight in his elbow. It’s secure and there’s nothing special to note but it’s going to bruise. “Long time no see Agent Hotchner.” She squeezes his fingers, smiling at the recognition behind his eyes even if his lips only form a silent mouthed version of her name.

With a smile - remembering the first time they met and how gently he’d taken her hand before shaking his head and admonishing “everyone calls me Hotch” - she reaches down and fixes his hair. He’s let it grow out since he left the BAU. Derek had been livid when he got word that Hotch wasn’t coming back despite the fact that he too left the unit. “How are you feeling, Hotch? Can I call someone?”

His eyes slide shut and for a moment she thinks he’s given in, sunk down low where his pain and his ailments can’t get him. He taps a finger against her palm and she understands he’s still here. “Morgan?” he rasps.

She nods, “Derek already knows you’re here. I imagine he’ll have the whole crew here in no time.” He grimaces, cracking an eye open to give her a look she understands entirely. She’s only ever faced their smothering worry once when Hank was born but she knows it’s a lot. It’s hard to imagine they’re going to somehow be less present and attuned with him than they with her. He’s not looking forward to that and it’s understandable. “Don’t worry,” she promises, “I’ll have your back when they get here.”

He nods, dull eyes sinking back under his eyelids. She holds his hand until she’s certain he’s fallen asleep.

“So,” the nurse asks softly. She moves and tubes and wires around so that they’re not laying against his bare skin. Folding the blankets over Hotch’s hips and leaving his chest bare. He’s still tachycardic, breathing laboriously through inflamed lungs. “How do you know this guy?”

Savannah sits down on the edge of the bed, taking Hotch’s hand into her own. Working her thumb in gentle, hypnotic motions between his knuckles and smiling sadly at the relieved rasping sigh that leaves his parted pale lips. “Family,” she answers because she’s not sure what the answer really is but in some way… yeah, family.

The nurse nods, going about what needs to be done while Savannah stays on the edge of the bed. She does what she can until she clears her throat. “Hey,” the nurse smiles, sympathetic to the soft faraway look in Savannah’s eyes. “Doctor Hamilton admitted him so I need to take him up to the--”

Savannah stands immediately, nodding. “Yeah,” she lays his hand back down on his chest. Stepping away from the bed, “sorry.” She shakes her head, stepping back as the brakes come up and he’s set into motion. “Second floor?” Savannah assumes.

The nurse nods, “he’ll be in room one seventeen. I’ll let the desk know he’s one of yours.”

Savannah watches him disappear down the hall, met at the mouth of the hall by other nurses and staff nodding as they take him to the right floor. She’d been there long enough to see his heart monitor and to identify the ventricular tachycardia plaguing him. He’ll likely need a pacemaker and she’s already racing to a solution. He’ll need to be monitored after surgery but can go home. Hank’s a little too small still but they have the guest room. If Derek cleans up the mess he lets Hank make in there--

Savannah’s heart sinks to the floor and she turns around. Hit with the sudden memory of the last event she saw Hotch at and remembers slowly that Hotch has a son and someone needs to find him.

All morning something had been off, Hotch didn’t have to say it for Jack to know. The oatmeal was made oddly, Hotch’s hands trembling so much he’d gotten the measurements wrong. Too much brown sugar but Jack hadn’t seemed to mind it being too sweet. He’d been distracted by his oatmeal and unalarmed by signs he hasn’t learned to be aware of. If Hotch had gotten up late or made breakfast and then laid down on the couch then Jack would have noticed. Bad days come frequently and like most storms look and sound distinct.

High anxiety days are an early rise, the sound of lights being turned on and off as Hotch fails to get comfortable in any room. Coming out of his room and finding his father curled up on the couch. His knees drawn up and a pillow pressed into his chest, a heated blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. It’s lightly tiptoeing around the house so Hotch stays asleep and avoids him once he does move and allows his aching back to stretch out. Jack knows to keep his music down and to call Jessica if Hotch locks himself away.

Though time has dampened it’s severity it’s not impossible to find his father trying to work through untreated PTSD or ride out an intense wave of depression. Leaving him immobile or desperate for a distraction. Jack knows those things. He understands them and, like the blasting siren that screams out before a tornado, Jack knows when to duck for cover and ride out the storm.

But Jack had no idea what a heart attack would look like. What to expect or even if a heart attack had been what he’d seen.

Hands over his ears, Jack Hotchner sinks into the emotionless walls surrounding him. Trying to find the place past his body where everything ceases to exist. Insistently, against his will, he’s pulled back to a decade ago. To the sound of gunshots tearing through the only home he’d ever known. To Emily wiping his tears away with the palm of her hand, their backs to the carnage his father created in the fall. To a hospital not unlike this one where his father was patched up - open wounds covered and drugs numbing his rough edges - until Jack had finally been able to see him. The feeling of his father’s chest, broad and forever, solid as he’d curled his legs into his lap. His father cried softly as he explained what happened, what he’d done.

“Mommy isn’t coming home, buddy.”

Pinching his eyes shut, Jack rocks himself back and forth. He can’t go there. Not alone. He can’t go back to Foyet. He’s too old for those silly games. Too old for nightmares and monsters hiding under his bed. Unaware of the ones still crawling out of his father’s closet, wrapping their cold fingers around his ankle and threatening to pull him into the darkness with them.

You’re never too old for monsters.

Spencer had found the time to confide in Jack about being raised by a mentally ill single mother. His intent was to demonstrate to Jack that not only did he understand the pre-teens intense fury with his father but that the emotions would abate and Jack would have only a few moments to decide what to do next. How Spencer had turned eighteen and had to have his mother committed to an institution. A decision that haunted him but that he ultimately understood it was simply the only option. One day, Spencer clarified, Jack would understand the way his father worked.

Until that moment, Jack had been more or less paying attention. When it came to all things Uncle Spence, Jack typically has a longer attention span and all the patience in the world but the moment Jack realizes this was a one-on-one sort of deal he was done. He wanted out. But Reid stuttered. That one day, and the words had come out so quickly if he’d had a chance Reid would have stopped them, Jack would realize just what that meant. He’d look at his father and all the magic of his childish love would fall away and Jack would be left with his father’s bare bones. And it would be terrifying but, often, that’s all love is: all the bits bleached down to their true forms.

He gets it now, okay? The nutty academic parent with bouts of deep depression, an obsession with their jobs, and no idea how to say I love you like everyone else. He gets the comparison now. Can he be done? He wants to go home. He’s done learning this stupid lesson about love or whatever bullshit this is supposed to represent. When does it end? It’s going to end, right?

Derek Morgan falters in the doorway, stalled like an engine as he stands at the edge of the messy room. Hank hums in Derek’s left ear, bouncing his foot against Derek’s hip as he stands stationary and trying to wrap his head around everything happening. It’s overwhelming. Derek hasn’t seen Hotch in two years and if the sight of him alone - laid out right here - doesn’t bring its own intense wave of anger and longing then the sight of his uncovered chest is it’s own thing as well.

Hotch is on the bed, curled slightly to his right with the blankets leaving his pale chilled skin open. Even with his face turned into the pillow behind his head, he looks deathly pale in comparison to the white bedspread. Entirely too limp, too still as he lays there pulling in breaths audible over the hiss of the canal running under his nose. Nearly drowned out, consumed by the natural hums of the hospital and constant motion of the monitors to his left and the dissatisfied beep of the blood-pressure cuff around his right arm.

Savannah warned him of what he’d find once he got inside in case she got called away to a patient when he got there. She told him the buzz around the staff, what Hotch’s cardiologist thought and it stung to hear her warn him ahead of time what Hotch looked like, worse, she imagined, than what Derek was imaging. Weaker, she’d said as if the word was some sort of betrayal. He’s weak and Derek can’t push him and he’d wanted to advocate for himself but he couldn’t.

With tears in his eyes, he’d promised to be on his best behavior and Derek realized just how awful he and Hotch could be towards one another. How everyone sees it. He’d wondered if… Well, if Hotch hated him for it. They’d been close once. Partners. Haley used to joke she half expected he’d steal Aaron away from her. That old joke used to make Jason laugh so hard, the two of them together were the cause of all his worry and stress. Now…

Well, now Derek is standing in a room that can’t be more than a 120-foot space with far too much equipment in it feeling like he’s never been so far away from Hotch. So disconnected.

Hotch makes a soft sound from the bed, twitching his nose and flexing his fingers. There are more drugs than blood in him, keeping him weak and tired and unable to pick apart his surroundings. Hazy eyes blink open, peeled apart like they each weigh twenty pounds, and the simple act of keeping them open burns. He can’t make out the world around him very well but he sees the empty chairs on his left and the expanse of white all around. The hospital, he knows, and no one showed up.

Maybe they finally got wise and are leaving him to his own devices. Leaving him to rot where he won’t be missed. Sinking into the fibers of the bed and disappearing. They’ll stop pumping him so full of drugs and just let him wilt away. He wants it, craves the nothing he knows he’ll find. No masks or deception or this anger he feels burning and rearing its ugly head. Just nothing.

Derek steps into the room, sniffling to draw in some noise before he steps into Hotch’s line of sight. Hoping not to startle him, as he clears his throat, meeting Hotch’s gaze for only a moment looking down at his shoes. “Just me and Hank,” he offers. He tucks his hands into his pockets. He can feel Hotch still looking at him, hearing those painstakingly slow, labored breaths. He wishes he hadn’t come. To escape all this restless vulnerability.

Hotch’s eyes sink back shut, pale lips parting to mumbling, “Derek,” under his breath. Savannah told him Hotch wouldn’t even likely know he was there. The drugs are affecting his mental facilities, sedating him to keep him calm while they run tests. When he can remember what’s happening he’s scared and when he can’t… he has a baseline memory that hardly differentiates friend from foe. It’s the latter of which Savannah needs him to be aware of because Hotch’s heart can’t handle the stress. His mind is too clouded and his body too weak, he just needs someone to hold his hand. Someone to distract him.

Derek’s expecting a conversation. For Hotch to say something. To apologize for running off or to pay Hank some sort of mind. There’s not even a stiff silence, Hotch looks so weak, so pliant Derek isn’t sure he can even speak. He realizes that despite all the hefty warnings, despite everything that he was told he still walked into this room expecting Aaron Hotchner. He wanted, he needed the man in the suit, with that stern scowl, and gravelly voice. He’d needed the mask and instead he got the man. The man without the armor, just blood.

And it scares him.

It scares Derek that Hotch can’t put up his shields, that he can’t hide and play their cat and mouse game of anger and misunderstanding. They only have blind defeat.

Derek sits down in the visitor’s chair, shushing Hank when he squirms with agitation. Hank immediately starts touching everything in sight. Reaching and leaning dangerously out of Morgan’s lap, to touch the bed and smack his hand against the rail. A sound that makes Hotch’s eyes peel open to slivers before they shut again, unbothered. “Don’t touch that,” Derek pulls Hank into his lap, redirecting his attention.

He knows, from the low whine Hank lets out, that this isn’t going to work for very long. Mercifully, there’s a knock at the door and Savannah peeks her head in. Waving at Hank who fights his limbs out of Derek’s hold to be placed on the floor so he can propel his body in the direction of his mother.

“Hello baby,” Savannah scoops him right up. Grinning at that way he toddles, that quick toddler pace because he doesn’t know how to pump the brakes. How to set himself into motion that isn’t just guided by leaning forward and running.

Derek stands from his chair, clearing his throat and glancing down at Hotch before looking back to his wife and son.

Savannah can see his hesitation, his worry. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get a snack? Hmm?” She jogs Hank up in her arms and he brightens at the offering - knowing pudding or a cookie is coming his way. “Derek?” She offers out her hand to him, “come on. I’ll explain everything to you downstairs.”

“Ugh--” all he can see is Hotch shivering. His skin slick with sweat from the strain on his body but the way he’s curled into the side. Trying to produce warmth where it isn’t. “Just give me a second.” Derek knows he can’t just throw the blanket over Hotch and he works himself up, gets upset just thinking about the mass of awful scars keeping his friend held together. All the old scars are bare for anyone and everyone to see. If Hotch had the presence of mind for it, he’d be upset.

With a gentleness born with great amounts of stress, Derek gently works the lower half of the blanket over Hotch’s leg. He folds the lower half over and hesitates, stares at Hotch, and wonders just how much he’s allowed. Hotch is cold and Derek knows that means his arms too but that crosses their line. They’re never spoken out loud, only shot through glances about trust and touch but Hotch is asleep or maybe lost to his haze of drugs (and Derek’s not really sure if there’s a difference between those two things). So, he picks up Hotch’s hand, swallowing against the uncomfortable swell of his throat when he feels just how cold the other man’s skin is. He tucks Hotch’s hand carefully against his chest.

Hotch’s face twitches, a grimace that makes him jerk his head but he doesn’t move his hand so Derek leaves it. Carefully, still watching and waiting for some explosive reaction but none come. Derek turns the heated blanket up to the highest setting, making sure even Hotch’s shoulders are covered. Tucking the blanket just under his chin.

Hotch groans from the back of his throat, a startling noise that comes with blinding panic. His eyes fly open, darting around the room and to Derek but not seeing. Derek can’t tell if it’s pain or fear but the machine over his shoulder picks up pace, reflecting Hotch’s distress. Hotch swallows thickly, mouth opening and eyes flicking around the room. Twisting, fighting his body in a futile battle where he loses no matter the outcome. Kicking out and dislodging blankets as he’s blinded by his pain.

“Step back Derek.” Derek just stands there, frozen. Savannah grabs him by the arm and pulls him back, allowing other people to come into the room. “He’s okay,” she mumbles, eyes glued to Hotch. He’s fighting blindly, anything and everything. His heart can’t take it, her eyes flick from his bare skin to the monitors. To the staff also taking note. “Derek, we can’t be in here.”

They pull the crash cart close, preparing vials of medicine before their eyes.

“What’re they--” Derek can’t move. He stands there watching them move blankets out of the way. Listening as they pull open a drawer and settle a machine on top and he knows what it is. Doesn’t need to be told what’s happening next. “Savannah.” He stumbles back, shaking his head. The machine wines, a high-pitched squeal that makes Derek’s heart pick up.

He doesn’t see, doesn’t watch.

He’s standing in the hall when the machine fires off. Can close his eyes but can’t unhear the sound of Hotch’s low groan, a punched-out sound but he’s alive. Still pulling in breaths.

“Morgan?”

He was still a baby the last time Morgan saw him. Quickly trying to climb to his father’s height but every bit as graceful as a colt, and angry. Angry with his father for falling into this same repeated history and questioning what he knew. How much of his father’s strength is something else? What does he really know about the man who raised him? Because he got himself a chunk of history, started to understand the man he’d always blindly turned to. His hero. Instead, he got glimpses, stories about the boy his mother knew and he could no longer recognize him.

But standing here now is a whole teenager. Blonde hair grown out and even taller, built unmistakably like his father with all height in his legs and pale.

“Jack.” Morgan stumbles back when Jack collides into him, long arms wrapping around him. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “When the hell did you get so big?” He’s standing there, a whole armful of the kid he used to give piggyback rides to.

Jack pulls away and wipes his eyes, furiously wipes his eyes so that Morgan can unsee the tears streaming down his face. “My-- My dad,” he asks. “Did you see him?” Jack looks at the room, alerted by the sounds coming from within, but Morgan steps in the way. “Morgan is he-- is he in there?” Jack worms his way out of Morgan’s arms, a whole tangle of long limbs.

Hotch would be proud to know Jack is exactly like him, real scrappy. A lot of fight for such a lanky person.

“Jack,” Morgan pulls him away from the door. Despite how much he wants to go to Hotch too, that’s not where Jack should be. That’s not what Jack should see. “Come on, kid. We can’t go in there. Come on.” The fight leaves him easily enough, he’s really just a kid standing there looking for someone to tell him what to do. Anyone to point him where he’s supposed to be.

Jack still wants to turn, as if pulled by strings.

“I called Rossi,” Morgan offers. Something to distract him, something good. “Everyone else? Reid and Garcia and Emily? They’re on their way, okay?” And even with loaded promises Jack can’t find the nerve to respond. Their names used to be a solace. Someone to call when he needs help with his math homework. To show up with books on whatever cool thing he’s into this week. His family.

People he hasn’t seen in forever.

They do come.

Hank’s ambling about, babbling to Morgan as he pulls his father around the waiting room. It’s his excited squeal that alerts them to the other’s arrival. To Reid holding the door open so the others can pass. The pile-up that happens, shocked inhales and silence as they stand there and look at the carnage. At Jack’s tear-stained face and Morgan going where Hank pulls but empty, fearful.

“Uncle Dave?” Jack stands up, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Dave smiles, “hey kiddo.” He doesn’t argue against the armful of Jack he gets, just closes him up. “Christ,” Dave whispers. “You’re a giant.”

“What is he feeding you?” Jack turns around and finds Emily and all she can do is laugh as he hugs her too. Finds herself all wrapped up in his long arms. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” she whispers, “letting you get so big.” She squeezes him tight, cups the back of his head.

There’s not much more time for reunions, never much time for anything.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Never get used to this part either. The sitting. The waiting. The calling.

Savannah was right about the tachycardia.

“With your permission - ” and it’s important that detail be added. That Hotch can’t make this decision for himself anymore and it’s resting entirely on the shoulders of Jessica or Dave and Emily alternatively. That doesn’t mean it’s not like a kick to the gut. A cruel taunt. “We would like to prepare him for the surgery now while he’s stable.” Stable? Is that what he is? Laying back there with defibrillator pads on his chest and sedated to the point that Morgan wasn’t sure Hotch could even recognize him.

Jack sniffles, ducking his head and whispering to Emily. Attached to her hip, clinging to her. She shakes her head and brushes his hair back, “it doesn’t work like that, Jack.” Jack’s lower lip trembles and it breaks Emily’s heart so she interrupts the doctors. Despite the voice at the back of her head telling her this isn’t a good idea. Despite the sour twist in her stomach. The way she knows Hotch wouldn’t want this. “I know there are strict rules,” and that alone should be enough to know they’re likely to be shot down. “Is there any chance he can go back before the surgery? This is his son, he’s fifteen. He’ll be sixteen soon. You’re hardly breaking the rules at all.”

Soon is a bit of a stretch. Jack’s an October baby.

The doctor looks at Jack and sighs like this is really putting him off but nods. “Yeah, quickly. Five minutes, do you understand? You can’t be back there long,”

And Jack thinks he’s won something grand. That he’ll be faced with the same mirage Morgan was expecting. His dad will be sitting back there tall and strong, probably just tired like he’s sick. But he takes one step into the room and wishes he hadn’t come. Hadn’t asked.

They haven’t removed the defibrillator pads on his chest just pulled a blanket over his stomach but that only minimally covers the damage. There are still visibly warped bullet wounds and jagged surgical scars to be seen. But Dave has seen all that. He’d been there to watch the blood spray out when the scar on Hotch’s shoulder took place. Shouted as the gunshot sprayed out and Hotch grunted, being sent back into the wall behind him. But that was… God, that was a lifetime ago when Hotch was just a kid.

Dave turns behind him and sees Jack frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jack nods but he can hardly move, can’t force himself to move further into the room. He’s seen his father shirtless, not enough times to really gather anything but he’s seen the damage of years of this job has caused. But this is different. Jack isn’t six, isn’t watching him shave. He’s standing there watching him pull in laborious breaths, struggling to keep living.

“You know,” Rossi sits down in the visitor’s chair. “When you were born he cried so hard that Gideon had to call me.” He looks back at Jack, watching his face for some inclination that he’s going to either come into the room or run away. “Haley was exhausted but… She was beautiful, always was. No matter if she was showing up at the office to haul your father home by the ear in her pajamas or crying her make-up off in the waiting room waiting for your knucklehead father to get out of surgery.”

But he’s missed the point.

He chances a glance to Hotch, watching his pale face twist in discomfort. “You were born at eleven at night and by that point I was already in bed and done for the night by ten kind of guy.” He can still remember sighing and almost ignoring his phone when it had gone off. “I got to the hospital and your dad was sitting on the floor just outside the room, sobbing so hard I thought he’d pass out.” It’s still pretty surprising he didn’t pass out. “Didn’t think he could do it. You were so small, small, and pink and screaming your little head off.”

Jack huffs, smiling as he kicks at the ground. Looking everywhere but his father or Dave.

“But I picked him up,” grabbed him by his shirt and forced him to his feet. Managing the tough love Gideon couldn’t bring himself to enforce. “I don’t think he stopped crying until he fell asleep. Just sitting there with you in his arms crying.” Rossi sighs shakes his head. “Honestly, you were tiny. Had a-- Had a thing with your heart and…” Rossi had held Jack after Hotch and Haley finally managed to catch some sleep. A nurse had figured he or Gideon one had to be a grandfather, why else would they be there? They’d sat there with Jack for about an hour just gushing over how small and cute he was. Trying to keep the baby content so Haley could get some sleep.

Drowsily his voice cuts through the silence, nothing but a ghost of a whisper. “An atrial septal defect.” It’s all he can manage but it’s enough to get their attention. Jack had been born with an atrial septal defect and they knew about it in advance just after Haley’s pregnancy got tricky. It was just a tiny little hole in his atrium, closed before he was a whole year old. That doesn’t mean it didn’t scare the hell out of them first. Leave them to check his bassinet every few hours. To make sure he was okay, still breathing.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t play soccer because of it.” Jack manages a few steps and comes to the very end of the bed. His fingers just barely touching the bed frame. “But you let me play anyways.”

Hotch clears his throat, shakes his head. “I didn’t. Jessica did.” He grimaces, shifting uselessly to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “Said-- She said if you were anything like me you’d find a way.” He’s talked himself breathless, gasping and fighting to breathe. “Might as well-- Might as well make it easy on myself. Just let you do it.” So he had. He signed Jack up for soccer despite his own fears and went to every match he could. Every practice. Until he was the only parent paying attention.

He coughs softly, setting off a weight and ache in his lungs. “Jessica--” he cuts himself off, coughing until he holds his breath and fists the sheets in his hand to keep from still.

Jack looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor.

Dave calls it. Hotch won’t admit he’s not okay and Dave would venture Jack has that same stubborn-streak, doesn’t want to think that Hotch isn’t okay.

“Come on,” Dave motions for Jack to follow him. “Times up, better get out of here before they kick us out.” Five or so minutes, that’s all they had and that’s passed. “You’ll be fine,” Dave promises.

He struggles to get his breath, to say something coherent. “Wait,” he grabs Dave’s shirt. Hospitals are so cold, they’re scary and miserable and he doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “I’m sorry.”

Dave pulls Jack on, can’t leave him behind, and can’t stay any longer.

“What did he mean?” Jack asks. He keeps looking back, looking over his shoulder to the room. “Why’d he say that?” He has to run to keep up with Dave’s pace. “Dave, please. Why’d he say he was sorry?”

Dave stops and just stands for a moment, looking at the hall before them. “He’s scared,” Dave answers, finally. “He’s just scared, that’s all.”

He doesn't think he’s going to make it. That’s the horrible ugly truth. That’s why he apologized. Just in case.

“Come on,” Dave holds out his arm. Smiles a smile that doesn't even try to make it to his eyes and wraps an arm around Jack. “It’s going to be okay. You know that?”

Jack looks back over his shoulder once more, to the room. He doesn’t buy it for a second but he nods anyway. “Course,” he answers.

“Good. That’s good.”

[fragileizywriting]

@flippin-fins and i were talking about this earlier and i am so in love with this concept, that this whole shebang would absolutely catch the attention of plagg, too, who would take one sniff around and realize that:

1) there are two not-his-child-but-are-reminicent-of-child, both of them look at him with no recognition in their eyes-- he knows, immediately, that this is not a good sign. one of them is tired, callouses in his hands, eyes shifting like he's expecting something. there's a low paranoia stirring inside this young boy-- plagg recognizes it as the same paranoia that had threatened chat when he had first shown up on the stone palace floor, shivering and anxious.

the second boy, slightly shorter, with gentle eyes and a loving smile, is not his. there is nothing of his in the older human version of chat, the taller of the two, who claims to be a demon anyway, but the younger and shorter one is clearly enhanced by his tikki. plagg sees it in his eyes, that bold and calm glimmer, that he sees every day when his wife is near.

both men are not his children. but there is something so prince-like in both of them, in the way they talk when coming up with plans, accessing their magic and what they're allowed to do, that he finds them as their own, anyway. they are not chat, not in appearances, and they are not chat, not in behaviors, but they are him in soul.

2) there is another one of tikki's champions here, but her magic is different, even though she's the very same soul as the ladybug he knows. her eyes are shinier. there's age in her eyes-- not as much as him, of course, but there is still history. by the time she's to leave, he'll have known her story. he's always curious, after all.

she speaks loudly, and sweetly, always teasing those around her. she's the first to laugh and the last to fall asleep, always checking around to make sure everyone is alright before turning in herself. her fingers and hands are not as calloused as the ladybug he knows, and they are not weathered, but they are skilled and talented in taking care of those around her-- healing without salve, diagnosing without checking, saving without remorse. this ladybug is not the ladybug he knows, but he recognizes her.

3) there is... two more of these men that his son chat refuses to acknowledge. one of them is nothing but a boy, not hardened like the naga is-- he is soft, and sweet, and attempts to stand out with decorations on his arms and neck and mouth. he's the first to recoil away, letting himself go blind if he needs to, placing something over his eyes so he doesn't have to see. he is braver when he cannot see his problems, plagg has assessed, and that is when he's most like the others. he's a child that he would like to get to know more, because there is something about him that doesn't make sense, no matter how plagg tries to understand.

the other is older than anyone else around. he is still not as old as plagg-- plagg, who has been around for years too long to name them by hand-- but there is an age like no other in him. he isn't as reclusive-- he laughs when the other ladybug teases, he jokes with the other ones that are his children, something genuine in his eyes when he's made his mind to speak. he smells of the ocean, just like the naga does. he's not afraid of plagg when they meet, unlike the other new-comers. in fact, he's the only one who willingly approaches, nothing fearful in his eyes. he's met a god before. that smile is too honest for someone like plagg to think otherwise.

but the most important one is...

4) there is a third ladybug. but she is not a ladybug at all.

she looks like the other two, with pitch-black hair, and the smattering of poppy-seed freckles along her face, but she is nothing close after that. one eye contact with plagg and he understands it all-- there is nothing of tikki in her.

there is wildness.

there is him, instead.

she is fire, entropy, crackling black heat hidden away with a cheshire grin he recognizes and loves instantly with a grin of his own. she is unfathomable, hiding away her intellect the same way that his son used to behave when he was younger, pretending to be airy and ditzy and forgettable, not letting the rouse fall flat until it is too late and someone bites. she is curious, speaking almost in tongues with how fast she speaks until one of his not-children have to remind her to breathe-- but she attaches to him, plagg, almost instantly while forgetting that air is important. she's the second one to not fear him, but she's the first one to pull on his hand and ask questions, even at the apprehension of others. she is the first one to listen to his stories, and the first one to suggest pranking the others. her laughter is filled with joy, and sweetness, and dangerous strength. she is a chat noir, through and through, and plagg has found himself yet another child without even meaning to.

and when she needs to, really needs to, she demonstrates the swiftness of being a chat noir so efficiently that it is hard for him to imagine her being a ladybug at all.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Illicit affairs -Prologue

General Summary: y/n stark returns after she escaped New York & peter’s rather anxious to see her after what happened between them. But neither fury or tony care about it and assign a mission to them: capture black cat and kingpin. Should be easy right? No, lol. While y/n and peter try to navigate their new “friendship” and try work together to capture kingpin, y/n gets tangled with one pretty felicia hardy and peter doesn’t like it at all. Jealousy doesn’t suit peter or y/n, secret meetings are a must, partying too and even a couple of hookups; everything to save the world, right?

Summary: y/n comes back from spending one year and a half in Europe for a mission, peter’s nervous as hell for her return and tony is not having any of their shit, so instead of buying an oversize “get-along-shirt” he decides to place them in a “get-along-mission”. 

Listen to: Dreams - Fleetwood Mac and Illicit affairs - Taylor Swift

word count: 7.7k

(author’s note at the end now)

series masterlist

Peter stared at the entrance of the Compound, hands in the pockets of his jeans with an absent expression drawn on his face. He could hear all the steps of people walking on the compound and he recognized there were far more than what he had gotten used to in one year and a half. 

He remembered how much he had craved the same activity as before, to see his mentors but especially to see you. But now he was panicking, his thoughts were screaming for him to leave before anything could go wrong but still every nerve on his body was pulling him into the compound and he knew the reason. He still couldn’t really process how much his heart still ache to see you again, even after you had been gone all this time without any type of contact. 

But it wasn’t a surprise that you had been avoiding him. 

He knew he had told Tony about what had happened between the two of you and he was sure that you had told him your version of events. But it still seemed like Tony didn’t remember when he had called Peter earlier in the day, he had a mission for him and needed him on the compound with the whole team. 

“The whole team?”

“Yeah, they came back yesterday”

Peter froze midway on his walk to another building on campus for his next class, since he had decided to double major in biophysics and electronic engineering. Tony had dismissed his long pause as he explained the logistics of the meeting and how he could have Happy pick him up if he wanted, Peter didn’t respond and simply by omission agreed for Happy to do it, although he had his car. 

After the call, the rest of the day had been a blur until Happy called him to tell him he was in front of the main campus of Columbia waiting for him. Peter didn’t talk on the ride to the compound and hadn’t even checked in with anyone else in his life. 

He was only focused on what would it be to see you again. 

It was Peter’s first time on Stark Tower after Tony had made him go on a mission regarding Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and Germany. Peter had returned from Germany for about a week when he finally got his call for him to go visit Stark Tower and Peter had been more than excited to go. 

“So kid, this is how it’ll work”, Tony explained to him as the door opened to a spacious metallic, modern industrial looking floor that blinded Peter for a second. “There are four different labs here: we have my lab, which is obviously the biggest, Bruce’s lab for when he decides to pay us a visit, Keener’s lab and my daughter’s lab over there”

Peter had been stuck a bit when Tony mentioned someone named Keener since Peter didn’t know anything about anyone else working with them, but everything was washed away when he remembered you. 

It hadn’t always been known that Tony Stark had a kid, you had lived with your mother until she had passed away when you were about five years old and it had been kept a well-hidden secret until Tony was kidnapped. Obadiah Stane had, unfortunately, decided that it would appeal to Tony’s kidnappers’ emotions that his own child would ask for his return. Pepper had been against it, but Stane hadn’t listened and then the world knew about you. 

Since then, the media had been in a frenzy about Tony’s Stark daughter and they didn’t stop, although there wasn’t much, they could get out of you. The main things the world knew about you were that you had left a private school in Malibu when Tony became Ironman and had been homeschooled since you had the same brain as your father and were most likely a super-genius, you got to go to events sometimes regarding Stark’s Industries and, most importantly, you were a member of The Avengers. 

“Dad, where are the blueprints of the exoskeleton?”, a silvery voice asked, coming from your lab and then it followed with your presence. 

Peter was in awe as he took you in. Peter noticed your smile first, it was so warm that it melted him inside when he noticed how well it go with your bright y/e/c eyes. They seemed like galaxies for him, he also noticed your long hair, much longer than the last time Peter had seen on the paparazzi pictures. But what made him smile even more was that you were on leggings and a light blue sweatshirt, looking like a normal teenager but with goggles on, soldering iron on one hand, and a hologram of your suit in the other. 

You were so focused on the design that you were too close when you finally raised your head from the hologram and stopped dead on your tracks when you noticed Peter. 

“Darling, meet Peter Parker”, Tony announced as he patted Peter on the back and pulled him towards your direction. “Parker, meet my daughter”

When you looked up, your gaze linked up with those chocolate light eyes with golden specks and you immediately smiled, knowing exactly who he was. 

“Hi- Hi, what…” Peter’s words stumbled against one another, “I’m Peter”

Peter seemed small and timid, he even looked younger than what you actually thought he was. The freckles that adorned his face didn’t help him look older either but they looked like a constellation, they were accompanied by chocolate curls that fell on his forehead and framed his face perfectly. 

“Lovely to meet you Spiderman”, you replied playfully. 

Peter smiled back and after that, you were smitten. 

As time passed you got closer and closer, you were the youngest on the team so it wasn’t a surprise for any of the other avengers that you had finally found a partner and were sticking together. 

Peter felt like a breeze of fresh air as he stood in front of you with his new suit on the compound trying it while you cheered for him along with your father. Peter was everything you hope for someone to be outside of your main circle that mainly contained The Avengers, Pepper, and Tony. He was brave, intelligent, loyal, and, most importantly, he was the kindest person that you had ever met. 

And Peter, he didn’t even doubt for a second that he needed you in his life, you were sunshine for him. When you worked together on your suit and helped you train to adjust to it, he was completely amazed by your intelligence and discipline. But mostly, it was your warmth and sensitivity, your ability to notice things that most wouldn’t, and your compassion were things that made him fall for you. 

But nothing could be so good, nothing came that easy to anyone and the way that you had parted ways broke both of your hearts. 

“Aren’t you gonna come in?”, Happy asked Peter as he passed by him and began climbing the stairs to the main entrance. 

Peter sighed as he followed Happy inside, the compound had always seemed to be larger than life itself when he had visited it for the first time but with you, it soon felt like a second home for Peter. The last few moments that you’ve had together before you walked away from each other, you had spent almost every waking free moment in there, even using your rooms more there than in the city. But after you left, he had decided to spent less time in the compound, not that it was easier to spend his time in Stark’s tower, but the compound had become such your place that he had been avoiding it as much as he could after it. 

He shuddered at the thought of you walking again through those hallways but giving him the same glare, you had given him the last time that you had seen each other. It haunted him until this day, how your eyes were swimming with resentment and how you had walked away from him. 

“Peter”, Steve’s voice woke up Peter from his thoughts and quickly embraced him in a tight hug, Peter smiled into it and embraced Steve back. 

“Captain”, he answered amuse as they let go of each other. Peter was surprised by Steve’s new beard and longer hair, he didn’t look anything like before he went, he seemed more badass than before. “Trying to copy Thor?”

See, although Peter had become a kind of surrogate son for Tony, Steve was still really involved with Peter since he saw a lot of himself in small Peter, especially after meeting him in Germany and getting to know him when they finally came back. And Peter really appreciated having Steve as another father figure as well, mostly because he was a closer take on Uncle Ben than what Tony was.

“Yeah, I got that from y/n already”, Steve chuckled as he walked with Peter towards the conference room. 

Peter flinched at the sound of your name and Steve noticed it right away. 

“She doesn’t hate you”, Steve stated as they reached the door, Peter could already hear your voice and he felt like he was going to be sick, his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest at any given moment and he closed his eyes as he remembered your last conversation. “She would never”

But Peter believed otherwise. 

“I can’t wait to see your friends again!”, you squealed as you walked through the cold streets of New York with Peter by your side while he smiled and tightened the hold on your hand. 

Flash had organized a rather impromptu “almost New Year’s” party, he would’ve done a real New Year’s party but he knew that all of his friends had their commitments so, there he was three days before New Year throwing out a real rave.  

Although you had never attended Midtown, you had become good friends with Ned, Betty, MJ, and Flash. Peter’s friends had always been so special to you, that you had thrown them your own goodbye party before they had left for college six months before. Ned had gotten to MIT, MJ studied in Columbia just like Peter while Betty had gone to Harvard and Flash had chosen to leave the east coast, he went to Berkley. 

“Ned and Betty are going to be so happy to see you, sometimes I think they like you more than me”, Peter replied as he recalled how much he had missed his friends. He had spent time with MJ and facetime was a must on the weekends, nonetheless, he had also tried to make new friends during the semester and he had even invited some over to Flash’s party.

“That’s a lie, but I’ll take it”, you said with a shrug as Peter turned around to smile at you. 

“Who wouldn’t love you?”, Peter stated as he watched you intently, your eyes link and you began to feel your heart ticking like a bomb, soon you looked away to the street, quickly changing the topic. 

Mostly, this semester had brought you even closer. Peter spent more time on the compound than on his dorm room, so much that he even walked in on a naked Otto (his new roommate) since he hadn’t expected Peter to return to their dorm last week. 

Your days were spent patrolling, training, on your lab or your room, not even on Peter’s who was given a room a year prior by Tony. It was quite an awesome achievement since you had been taking some classes at MIT while also interning for Tony and Pepper, both of them. Peter didn’t know how you managed to do all of that and spent as much time as you did together, but you thought the same since he was going full-time to college and also working on his Spiderman duties. 

But you did, you and Peter had arranged everything in your life, you juggled every responsibility as much as you could so you could see each other. If it meant getting fewer hours of sleep, flying from Boston to New York the same day, even if it meant wearing your suit to fly, although Pepper disapproved. 

He had even spent a couple of nights in your room, sleeping together after late nights on the streets. 

“I’ve been waiting to go to a party since forever”, you gushed as you climbed the elevator to Flash’s while Peter helped you remove your long black coat, revealing a black silky dress. Peter watched your body slowly, his gaze dropped down to one of your legs that were exposed by the slit on it and then to your exposed back. Peter gulped as you turned around and fixed your hair. “You are going to save me a dance, right?”, you continued as you batter your eyelashes in a show of mock innocence. 

But Peter’s smile slowly slid off his face as he felt how his cheeks were burning with a slight blush as you searched for his eyes. He knew you were mocking him; he knew you weren’t possibly serious because there was no way that you, Y/N Stark, were actually flirting with him. 

“Su-sure”, he muttered as his eyes connected to yours. 

But the thing was that you weren’t kidding. 

You weren’t completely sure when your relationship with Peter had shifted, you had always been close to Peter and you cared about him, a lot more than sometimes you thought it was healthy or normal for best friends. But it was the first night that he had decided to spend the night in your room, you had been tired since you had stopped more crimes than what you had expected and the criminals were far harder to defeat than the usual petty burglars. 

That night you had talked about everything. You had begun light and playful, with Peter picking you up as you recall how you had managed to defeat a couple of guys who were trying to steal an ATM. You had laughed at Peter’s goofy narration of events while you played with his hair. But then, after a few laughs, you remain silent for a couple of minutes, watching each other. 

You didn’t know what compelled you, but after a few minutes on that night, you hit each other with the hardest things in your life and how you were struggling with it. 

You had told him about your deepest fear of not being good enough, how you were actually struggling mentally with your responsibilities but also hating yourself for not doing enough in your eyes, for not being the best version of yourself that you had to imagine you would be, for not being the perfect girl everyone thought you were. How sometimes you resented Tony because everyone was expecting so much from you but it also felt like you were going to explode if you didn’t stop. How sometimes you wished you could rebel and get away from whatever image they had from you. 

And it was a complete surprise when Peter had told you that he understood. He had revealed, after so many years of friendship, what had really happened with his Uncle Ben; how he had selfishly decided to let a criminal go since he was just stealing some food and then how the same burglar had shot Uncle Ben without a second thought when he had tried to stop him. He felt so morally responsible for Uncle Ben's death that Peter had saved up so much anger inside of him that when he captured the man, he had almost killed him. No one knew about it, no one knew that Peter could hold such anger in him and everyone thought he was just this harmless boy, that could do no wrong or that had never experienced the weight of emotions, how they could drown you. 

He showed you his scars and you showed him yours.

You saw each other at your best and your worst. 

And your bond became stronger before you even realized it yourself, you knew you were in love with Peter Parker and, although you weren’t sure, you thought he loved you too. 

“Peter?”, a fruity voice snapped you both out of the trance. 

You turned around to see Gwen Stacy, the petite friend of MJ and Peter at Columbia. You remembered her since you had met her a few times when you drove Peter to college. She was a science major and usually a study buddy for Peter whenever he had to miss class because of his Spiderman responsibilities. She was also way too beautiful; she was blonde with a short blunt bob perfectly framing her face and her sapphire green eyes.  

“Gwen!”, Peter said playfully to her. As he exited the elevator with your coat in hand while you cleared your throat, irritation showing its awful head on your heart as you watched him hugging Gwen and the way Gwen pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

When Peter pulled away, he smiled at her and you felt your face dropping. 

“Y/N, come!”, Peter said softly as you exited the elevator with an absent expression. 

The rest of the evening was okay, you had spent time with Betty and Ned, dancing along with MJ, and even had managed to drag Peter to the dance floor although he had refused at first. Flash had been flirting with you non-stop since he saw you with that dress, to the point that Peter had shot him a glare or two before he stopped. If Peter was being honest, he believed to only have eyes for you that night but your mood had changed since you had arrived and he was clueless as to why. 

You hadn’t said anything but he knew your body language enough, almost by second nature, to realize that you were tense and nervous. He could feel your heart raising its beat each time he got closer to you but he also noticed how your muscles tensed up when things got too quiet, at least that’s what he thought. 

The thing was that you were annoyed because, at every turn, Gwen Stacy was there talking to Peter or flirting with him, you decided to stay quiet because you weren’t in the mood to fight with someone. 

“It’s everything okay?”, Peter asked as he met you in one of the large windows of Flash’s penthouse, watching New York. 

You turned around to watch Peter, his wild chocolate curls were controlled by the gel that he had decided to put earlier that evening at your place, he was wearing nice elegant pants with loafers and an open white shirt that fitted him perfectly. He looked perfect for you and you couldn’t help but blush when he got closer to you. 

“I’m okay, I just…”, you muttered and the words dissolute in the air, not wanting to finish the sentence.  

You weren’t okay but you didn’t know if it was a good time to say so, it wasn’t Peter’s fault that Gwen was interested in him, but it was exasperating that he hadn’t said anything about her advantages. Still, what infuriated you more was your attitude, you weren’t usually afraid of many things and you took pride in that but every time you wanted to yell to Peter that you loved him, nothing came out. 

“Y/N…”, Peter asked you as he placed his hand on the small of your back, in a comforting way. 

His eyes were searching yours as you licked your lips nervously. But soon, the fear was too much, it overwhelmed you so badly that you stubbornly looked away, glaring at the city. 

“I’ll be right back”, you answer and quickly got yourself loose from his hold and walked away, leaving a confused Peter behind. 

You felt out of breath when you got to the bathroom and quickly shut the door. As you saw yourself in the mirror you realized how angry you felt, you glared at yourself and cursed under your breath, quickly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, before you opened them again. 

“Get your shit together and just tell him already”, you growled.

You loathed yourself at that exact second, you hated feeling so weak and that the feeling of not telling Peter was eating you alive. It was time to get it over with, you knew Peter, you knew him like the back of your hand and he wouldn’t hurt you, right? He could never hurt you; he was your Peter Parker, angry and sweet, for good or for bad, you knew him. And if he did feel the same way as you did, then it would all be worth it.

You smiled at the thought of you and Peter together, like you had wished for a while now and everything seemed to work. Tony had even mentioned something about it the week before and how he would be totally happy if you had feelings for Peter, which you hadn’t denied to him but hadn’t accepted either to him. 

So, you exited the bathroom with new energy flowing through your body, you wanted to tell Peter how you had fallen for him, how you wanted to feel his lips against yours one more time, how you wanted for him to hold you as he did but now with your feelings out in the open. 

You wanted him. 

You walked through the party, searching for the boy with chocolate eyes and golden specks, without minding your friends who had an almost uncomfortable look on their faces but then you saw it….

Peter who you were in love with, Peter that you saw as your one and only, Peter that you had opened yourself to for so many years and the guy who you believed belong with you was with Gwen Stacy, tangled in an embrace as they kissed each other. She was cupping his face sweetly as he had his arms around her torso, their mouths dancing as if they were the only two people on the planet. 

You stared at them in shock. 

Everything seemed to shatter into a million pieces. Everything. The late-night talks. The laughs and giggles. The holding hands. The missions together. The time you spend in the lab. The gazes lock in together. The trust. 

It wasn’t only until they finished that Peter turned around and watched you in shock. 

You turned around without a word and fled, no one could stop you, not even MJ who tried to take a hold of your hand which you brushed off. 

You were sure that in that second, you were able to hear your heartbreaking like it was glass, as you hurriedly tried to look for your coat in Flash’s room as fast as you could. You wished that you had brought your suit but you had decided to leave it for the night since the plan had been going back to Stark’s Tower with Peter. 

You felt so stupid. 

“Y/N!”, you could hear Peter shouting behind you while you look for your coat as quickly as you could but it seemed lost with the rest of the clothes that were on Flash’s bed.  

You stopped as you heard the door closing, you closed your eyes and waited for him to say anything. You hoped that maybe Peter would tell you that Gwen had just gone for it and that it was a mistake, something, anything, that would negate what you had just seen. 

But he stayed quiet and as each second pass, you felt hot rage bubbled up within your chest. 

“Since when?”

“What?”, Peter asked, his voice was small and confused. 

“Since when have you had feelings for Gwen?”, you repeated. “It was since you met her? Was it since Halloween? I want to know”

“Y/N-” 

“Tell me Peter or I swear to god!”, you shouted, spinning around and fixing Peter with a sharp glare, so full of loathing and pain, that Peter felt like it pierced right through him. 

He didn’t understand your rage, he didn’t understand why you had run away after you had seen him with Gwen. He couldn’t even phantom that you had feelings for him like he did for you, it had been a dream for him that you felt the same way that he felt at the same moment that he met you. But years had passed and Peter believed that being the confident woman that you were, there wasn’t a way that you hadn’t already told him how you felt.

“She begun flirting with me since we met, it wasn’t…”, Peter cleared his throat, meeting your gaze steadily. “It wasn’t planned, she just confessed her feelings for me and you like her too! She’s nice and sweet, she’s smart and I…”

You closed your eyes in pain as you heard Peter’s words.

Your eyes welled with tears as you shook your heart in disbelief, you felt as if your heart was being torn apart. Realizing that all the things that you were worried about were the truth. 

“I’m so stupid”, you whispered to yourself. 

Peter furrowed his eyes and he tried to get closer but you flinched. 

It hurt. 

“Why are you stupid, y/n?”, Peter asked in a gruff voice, he watched you intently because he knew you well enough to know that you were hiding something from him and if it was what Peter was really thinking, then he needed to know. 

But you didn’t answer. You didn’t even want to look at his face any longer, you felt cripple by a broken heart and, in such an uncharacteristic manner, you wished for a second that he could feel the same pain that you were feeling. 

“Y/N?”

“Leave me alone, Parker”, you spat as if his name was poison while your eyes narrowed angrily. 

It stung more than what Peter wanted to admit as he stared at you for a moment., The way that you had said his name, made him shuddered and tears began to well in his eyes too. He could hear your harshened breaths growing shallow and how you were fighting to keep your tears at bay. 

He wanted to stop you but you raced out of the apartment without looking back once. You ran down the snowy sidewalks, running and running in your high heels until you couldn’t see clearly because of your tears. You had kept right on running until you managed to get into the elevator of Stark Tower and you collapsed, sobbing like you hadn’t in your life. 

“Dad! Pepper!” 

Tony and Pepper had come out running from different parts of the apartment when they saw you on the floor of the elevator. 

“Y/N! What’s wrong?”, Pepper said in alarm, as she tried to kneel but her baby bump wouldn’t let her.

But you couldn’t say anything, your sobs wouldn’t let you modulate words as you simply raised from the elevator and clutched her tighter while Tony hugged both of you from behind. 

Peter entered the conference room and it was full of avengers, sometimes he still couldn’t believe that it was his life after so many years of working with them, inside the team. But the thought quickly dissipated as his eyes searched for you. It wasn’t too difficult to find you, since everyone was already sitting down, he and Steve were the last ones that had arrived and Fury was already standing up at the edge of the table alongside Tony. 

He gave a small wave to Wanda, Bucky, and Sam who had been in the mission with you, Harley gave him an uninterested look which he had ignored because he was permanently annoyed at Harley’s attitude and then he found you sitting beside him, looking absentmindedly whirling your straw around in your drink. 

You had changed and it was for good. Your long, long hair was now cut short and it reached a little bit below your shoulders. Your face had become more defined and the pup fat that Peter sometimes bothered you with by pinching your cheeks was gone, now you had sharper cheeks and jaw. You weren’t dressed in sweats like you used to dress before for anything that didn’t involve a party but now you were wearing a turtle knitted sweater that framed your body perfectly with white mom jeans. 

You seemed to have grown. 

Peter walked up to you and seated himself in the chair across from you, clearing his throat and snapping you out of your little trance. You blinked in surprise and stared at him, looking a little caught off guard. 

He looked taller and more fit than before, he had grown into the confident persona that you knew he had deep inside of him, you could tell by the way he was looking at you. But those chocolate eyes with golden specks hadn’t change one bit and neither the constellation of freckles that adorned his face, the ones you loved to trace when you were helping him relax. He was still wearing what he usually wore since the time you met him, except he had dropped the nerdy t-shirts that had been a staple of him during high school, and now he had a white plain t-shirt that combined well with his simple jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt.

But, even if he looked that good, nothing had changed between the two of you. 

“How’s Gwen?”, you asked sarcastically as Peter huffed in annoyance. 

Peter had tried to reach you for days; he had even intended to go to Stark Tower the day after the fact but Aunt May had fallen ill with a bad cold so he decided to stay with her. But it didn’t stop him from making about a thousand calls to your phone, at night he even wondered if he should call Tony but he was afraid about the fallout of your fight, he knew that Tony wouldn’t change who he was with him but Peter also knew that he would protect you no matter what and if it that meant hiding you from Peter, he would do it. 

So, it wasn’t a surprise when Tony didn’t answer either. 

Peter couldn’t sleep for days as he stared at his ceiling in silence, replaying the scene in Flash’s room over and over again, your face filled with pain and rage was something that he hadn’t seen. Not even when you were fighting criminals, like the Vulture. And it didn’t help his sleeping situation that Gwen hadn’t stopped texting either. 

After you had left the party, Gwen had managed to catch Peter before he reached the elevator and had talked to him about what had happened, she had held him as he cried about you but he decided not to say anything too specific about your fight. Gwen had been there for him and he appreciated, they hadn’t kiss anymore that night but she had been checking in on him, being as sweet as she had always been and Peter was happy? Yes, he was happy that he had someone he could talk to that was there for him since it seemed like even his friends were upset with him too. 

But Gwen was not you. 

May got better after a couple of days, so, without many hours of sleep, Peter decided to show up at Stark Tower. He hoped that he could talk to you and finally explained what had happened that night, Peter somehow hoped that you would tell him what he wished for but he believed you were far away from that. Still, his only hope was to see you again and talk, say something that could bring you back together. 

The elevator opened to the penthouse and it seemed like it was lonelier than what he was expecting. It was late in the morning, so Peter had figured out that you had been already working out since it was your usual routine but he couldn’t hear your heart beating. Peter walked towards the kitchen and hoped that you were already having breakfast and that he had simply missed it but when he arrived, only Tony was there. 

Tony turned around and froze as he munched on some berries that he had in his hand. 

“What are you doing here, kid?”

Peter nibbled on his bottom lip and he could feel his hands starting to sweat, he quickly placed them in his pockets as he walked towards the island kitchen, “I need to talk to y/n, Mr. Stark please”

It sounded wobblier than Peter had hoped to but it was sincere enough that Tony sighed and relaxed his tense muscles. “She’s not here, kid”, he said as he shook his head, “She’s gone”

“What do you mean?”, Peter asked once more as he got closer to Tony, panic swimming in his eyes. 

Tony walked towards Peter and he placed a hand on his shoulder, he squeezed it. “I’m sorry Peter”

“Tony, where is she?”, Peter glared, shooting a look up at Tony who shook his head, as he looked sideways to Peter. 

“She left for a mission”, Tony explained to him while Peter turned around to face him, brows bumped together in confusion, he didn’t recall that you had been assigned a mission on the last meeting. “The one in Europe and Asian, she went with Steve, Nat, Bucky, Wanda, and Sam”

Peter felt his stomach sinking because he remembered when Fury and Steve had disclosed the mission: One year at least on the East of Europe and in Asia, locating Hydra Nests to finalize the threat on countries where they could do the most damage. They had decided to pick Steve, Nat, Bucky, Wanda, and Sam because they were the most experienced ones and it was a dangerous mission, they had to be very careful since they were mostly acting undercover because the government didn’t want them there. It was a real possibility for someone to die, more chances than what they usually faced.

“What?”

Peter repeated the same words as he responded to your sarcastic comment, Harley snickering under his hand while you simply gave Peter a phony smile. It was clear that you weren’t really over what had happened a year and a half ago and why should you? Peter was still dating Gwen, as your father had let you know as soon as you got home. You had still hope that nothing had actually happened between them and although it was a longshot, you still wanted to believe that maybe Peter had waited.

But he didn’t and it burned again as if your past feelings, that you thought you had left behind when you climbed the quinjet to Europe, were filling you once more. 

Peter’s face turned into a scowl as he watched your attitude and Harley’s. You had changed personality-wise too and he felt frustration growing inside of him. He had hoped that when you came back you had forgotten whatever your reason was to fight with him, he hoped that you would simply fall back into your friendship and that nothing had really changed between the two of you. 

But you didn’t and Peter felt confused, he felt confused because it wasn’t fair. It had been almost two years and you were still filled with resentment. 

“Mrs. Stark, Mr. Paker”, Fury’s gravelly voice snapped you both out of your glares. “Can we start?”

The rest of the meeting continue without much trouble, Steve and Nat where in charge of the debrief of your mission and how successfully you had eradicated Hydra nests in the areas that you went but there were different countries that you hadn’t reached, even in a year and a half there was a lot to be done yet. You had talked about how you were helping the different towns or areas that had been affected by Hydra’s activities, how the crime rates had gone down after you managed to intervene and how you had left them different programs so they could introduce to their governments. 

Peter had been gazing at you as you continue to tell about your time there, he saw the gleam on your eyes when you were talking about the different ways you had helped people but when you finished your eyes locked again but you looked away from Peter with your chin high and Peter did the same. Each one refusing to look at the other when you intervened in the meeting any further. Although it didn’t work, because you could still feel your heartbeat skipping a beat and couldn’t help the tugging on the sides of your smile when he was talking about how he had defeated the Scorpion four months ago and how the crime rates in Queens had gone down because of it. 

But more than that, neither of you tried to face the other. 

At least until Fury was updating you on a next mission. 

“After that, you would be able to pass through Moldavia, and then it would be easy to reach Kosovo. You’ll arrive in Pristina where people will be waiting for you, it’s going to be shorter than the last but they are being seriously affected by the Hydra activity”, Fury finished explaining as he was turned around from the hologram that showed the route. “The mission has been assigned to-”

“I want to go!”, you suddenly babbled, a hand up in the air with excitement while Wanda gave you a thumbs up from afar in another seat. 

Fury rolled his eyes. 

“We have a problem here, y/n”, Tony said, nudging one of the files that Fury had in front of him. “There have been some robberies through New York, more importantly, on the last month or so Hammer Industries and Oscorp Industries have been raided” 

“Well, Peter can handle it, can’t he?”, you drawled, as you gave Peter a look with a pout on your face.  

Peter wanted to be flattered, you thinking that he could handle a threat was nice but he suspected it was coming from the fact that you clearly wanted to get out of New York too and, especially, far away from him. 

“I haven’t been able to catch her”, Peter muttered as he answered with a timid look. 

“Her?”, you asked, a slight frown on your face as you gazed at Peter who had his shoulders slumped and tried to avoid your gaze. You still knew him; you still knew his body language and there was something that was bothering him. 

“Black Cat”, Fury answered as he threw the file to your place and you opened it quickly. 

The first thing your eyes focused on was a picture of her, on what you believe was Hammer thanks to the tech. It wasn’t a good photo; you could only white hair wrapped up in a tall ponytail and her black leather costume. She looked good, from what you could see, but it wasn’t much either way thanks to the quality of the camera. 

“Hammer should really change its security camera provider”, you drawled as you checked the file. “What about the Oscorp security video? Doesn’t he have one of those?”

“You should know how paranoic Norman is, he didn’t want to give us any footage”, Tony explained as you continued to read whatever information was in the file, but there wasn’t much. 

The one interesting thing was the number of abilities she had: extremely superhuman reflexes, agility, and the stamina of an Olympic level acrobat. She knew martial arts from what they had found from the fights that she had and was able to incapacitate her assailants without getting injured. 

“Peter, don’t you have footage of her? We can scan her fighting pattern and search for weaknesses”, you suggested as you closed the file and pushed it back to Fury’s place. 

But Peter remained silent. 

“Peter?”, you asked and you turned around to face him, a dour look drawn on his face and you felt your eye twitching as you realized what he did.

“I…”, Peter began as he felt the glares of Fury and you. 

“Please, tell me you didn’t deactivate your baby monitor program”

“I deactivated my baby monitor”, Peter answer quietly. 

The way that you slapped your own face managed to make Harley jumped as all of the others looked up to you slightly alarmed. Sam’s face even twisted in a way as he mouthed a small ‘ouch’. 

“How can you be so stupid!?”, you shouted at Peter, your hand still on your face and frustration bubbling on your chest. 

Everyone stayed silent as their gazes traced back to Peter’s blinking expression, his eyes wide as a plate and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks from the embarrassment. Peter remembered when you lashed out, it wasn’t often and you mostly got angry at yourself when you didn’t manage to accomplish something, but not to a lot of people.

“Here we go”, Bucky muttered, as if he already knew what was about to unfold.

“I was tired of Tony reviewing all my footage, there was private stuff sometimes in there!”, Peter stammered, the high pitch in his voice making it obvious he was a bit nervous but the glare in his eyes dripped annoyance. 

“What? Were you using your suit to web Gwen’s hands in bed?”, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Tony immediately shot you an annoyed look as Harley, Sam and Bucky burst into laughs while Steve and Fury crossed their arms on their chest, as Nat, Wanda, Bruce and Vision had their mouths wide open in surprise.

“Why are you being so unbearable?”, Peter snapped but he quickly shut his mouth, not wanting to say more. 

He could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest and his cheeks getting warmer and warmer with each second. Yes, he had turned off his baby monitor program because Gwen had asked him so. No, he wasn’t tying her hands in bed but he was pinning her under him while wearing the suit, it seemed like she was keen on it, but that wasn’t the point that should be brought up in an avengers meeting. He lingered for a moment, wondering if he should go off at you as he stared at you: blush cheeks, narrowed eyes but there was a gleam in your eyes and Peter remembered from your last conversation, you were still hurting. 

“You two, enough”, Tony intervened sharply as he glared at your behavior. 

You sighed as you slumped on your chair and Peter sat down annoyed, looking down and not wanting to face anyone of the avengers in one thousand years after what you had said.

“She’s not the point, the point is that we think she’s working for Kingpin”, Fury explained once more as Kingpin’s profile appeared on a hologram in front of you, at the center of the table. 

It had been a while since you had heard his name, you knew he was dangerous and that he was no joke, especially in New York. 

The last time you had heard about him, was when he had been absolved by a judge on drug charges but you knew it was because he had such a criminal organization that his pawns were the ones that had been caught, no evidence relating him directly. Plus, he was also regarded as the owner of much legitimate business and even had ties with politicians so it had become unlikely that he would get caught. Tony had offered to capture him some time ago, but Coronel Ross had decided that NYPD should be in front of that case, that the avengers shouldn’t waste their time on it. 

But it seemed like they were being unsuccessful. 

“Do we know why he would want whatever she’s stealing from Hammer and Osborn?”, you asked as you watched Kingpin's image on the screen. His heavyset appearance sometimes frightened you, his crystal blue eyes seemed way too dangerous and you gulped as you realized how tall he was. 

“No, but you two are going to find out”, Fury answered you as he placed another set of files in front of you and another in front of Peter.

You inhale a sharp breath as it dawned on you who the two of you were. A shiver of panic ran through your spine as you realized that you had to stay in New York and also work with Peter, without any time frame of how long you would have to stay. Peter also felt his throat tighten up, he realized that he had to work with you, this new you that wouldn’t doubt in calling him out if needed. 

“She doesn’t want to be here”, Peter whined as he looked at Tony. 

“I don’t”, you started but were quickly cut off by Tony. 

“I don’t care if you don’t want to”, Tony replied abruptly as he then turned at Peter, “Or if you don’t want to either”. Peter slumped a bit more on his chair. “You are going to work together like you used to because we said so and you can’t say no because we are your bosses. You are not seventeen anymore.”

Sometimes you forgot how severe Tony was, especially how he was with you, you could feel he was still a bit hurt that you had left for Europe without even discussing it with him first. He had simply allowed it because he understood how upset you were, but he wasn’t expecting that you would leave for such a long time, you hadn’t even met Morgan.

Peter had always been a little nervous about Tony, although he had grown from the timid sixteen-year-old he was when he met Tony, he still couldn’t avoid getting anxious when Tony got mad. He knew that Tony had some resentment over what had happened with you, you had left New York because of him and had hurt Tony in the way. 

You gazed back at Peter, who was already looking at you. 

“I guess we are together in this”, you muttered and Peter nodded. 

You closed your eyes again, hoping that it wouldn’t be as bad as you hope it would be. 

You had no idea what was coming your way.

*******

author’s note: I’m so so happy to finally be starting this new series. I’ve had it in my mind since last year when I wrote “hey hey you yeah, i don’t like your girlfriend”, literally i’ve been planning it for months and just now I found the time to write it and dedicate time to it. I’m still planning to finish Back to you but i was putting a lot of pressure on myself to write for that series and i wanted to spice it up and change it from the angsty feeling of Back to you. 

I know it starts a little bit angsty but it will get much more exciting, a different y/n who has grown into herself as we saw here and whose not afraid anymore to be herself. Which is very different from y/n in Back to you. And Peter’s not that sweet as he was in Back to you, he can call out y/n too and her shit, and I LOVE that slow burn that we are going to see developing in the next chapter and also FELICIAAAAA hits different, especially for a bi like me. 

This series is also inspired by my november playlist and i think this mood fitted very well with the story we are going to see. 

There will be an update in exactly five days since i already finished chapter one and have started chapter two, i’m going to be updating as fast as i can. Please please please let me know what you think!! I little like or reblog literally make my day, especially general feedback!! thank you sooo much for taking the time to read it. 

[luke-patterson-owns-my-soul]

Unsaid Emily

Title: Unsaid Emily - Charlie x Reader

Words: 4,698

Summary: Y/N is one of the songwriters working on Julie and the Phantoms and cowrote Unsaid Emily. When she has to work with Charlie, sparks fly.

Requested: Only by my idiot brain

TW: None

Author’s notes: I mean no offence to the writers of Unsaid Emily, but I needed it to be this way. Also, I know Charlie just got his car, but it fit my timeline.  I hope you like it.

Credit: @nikascott​

Receiving the call from Netflix to write a song for a kids’ TV show about a ghost band, you were hesitant, but your friend Dan talked you into it. You had written as a duo before – you wrote lyrics while he conjured up what you personally considered the most beautiful melodies – but this job was just for you. 

The brief you’d been given by the show runners didn’t give much away. A song for a runaway son to perform for his estranged mother after his death. The only other information given was that his mother’s name is Emily. Usually, you like vague briefs such as this, but without knowing more, you struggle. 

After speaking to one of the showrunners, you’re invited to meet the writers for more information, so you drive down to where the legendary Kenny Ortega is putting the cast through their paces at a band bootcamp. You’ve worked with Kenny before, so when you arrive, he welcomes you with a smile and a hug before the two of you disappear to discuss the song you’re struggling with. 

“Why don’t I introduce you to Charlie who’s playing Luke. He’s had intensive discussions with the writers and myself about his character and may have some insight on what kind of things Luke would want to say to his mom.” Kenny suggests rather than only speaking to the writers. 

“That would be great, but only if you can spare him for a few minutes.” 

“It’s not a problem. Hey, come and grab some lunch with me, I’ll introduce you, and then you can get the information you need.” You loved Kenny and wanted to write the best possible song for his show you could. Standing, you grab your bag before following him out and over to catering. 

As soon as Kenny enters the large room, he’s called out to and waved at. With a wide smile, he responds to everyone as the two of you grab some food and sit at an empty table. While you eat, you discuss the show, and Kenny’s hopes for it. 

“It may be aimed at a younger demographic, but I want it to appeal to all ages.” He stated as you’re joined by a group of kids so good looking, they can only be the cast. “Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s one of the songwriters we’ve commissioned. Charlie, once you’ve finished up with lunch, could you spare her ten minutes to chat with her about Luke?” The cast members all say hi before returning to their food. It’s clear to you they’re all creating friendships as they laugh together. But Charlie isn’t getting involved as he looks at you. You can’t help but stare at the actor as his hazel eyes lock onto yours, a small smile on his face as he nods. 

“Sure, no problem.” He smiles wider and you almost choke on your food. Kenny looks over at you, a strange smile on his face. 

:: :: 

“Hi, you needed to talk to me?” Charlie moves along the table once everyone has left to get back to work. You look over at him, noticing how young he looks. From what Kenny’s told you about the cast, you’re not much older than him, but with his short hair and boyish smile, he looks a lot younger than he is. 

“Hey, yeah. I just want some insight into the character of Luke.” 

“Which song are you writing?” He asks, genuinely interested. He leans his chin on his hand waiting for you to answer. 

“The one he writes for his mom after he runs away.” 

“Oh, wow. Tough break.” You can’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

You pull a notebook out of you bag and open it to a page where you’d scribbled some questions about the character. 

For half an hour, the two of you sit, chatting about the show, about Charlie’s character, and by the time you finish up, you’re pretty satisfied that you can head home and make the song work. After thanking Charlie for his time, you pack your notebook away, ready to go out to your car and drive home. 

“Do you fancy coming and watching a rehearsal before you leave?” He asks, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. You really shouldn’t, you need to get back home to start working, but you’re intrigued by him. Throughout your talk, you were impressed with the passion he has for both music and acting, but more than anything, the character he’s going to be portraying. 

“Sure, but I can’t stay long. I have a song to write for you.” You grin as you follow him out of catering and into the rehearsal space. Immediately, Kenny calls you over where he’s sat with the young girl playing the lead role. She’s listening to a piece of music you don’t recognize. 

“All good?” He asks when you join him. 

“Great. I should be able to get a rough cut over to you by the end of the week. Is that okay?” 

“Fabulous, I look forward to hearing what you come up with. Ready to see these amazing kids rock out before you go?” 

“Am I ever.” 

“Guys, let’s run through Now or Never.” Kenny calls out. Charlie and his bandmates grab their instruments while the young girl you now know as Madison turns the music off and leaves the stage area. 

As the three guys rock out, you can’t help but watch Charlie. He’s a natural lead singer who commands the stage, even in rehearsal, and you know his fanbase is going to explode once the show airs. You take note of his singing range, mentally adding it to the notes you made earlier. 

“Kenny, you’re onto a winner with this show,” you tell the director as the song ends. “I’m gonna head out and get started. I’ll let you know once we have something for you.” 

Kenny hugs you before turning his attention back to the actors and starts directing them to lead into another track as you exit the room. As you reach your car, you hear footsteps behind you. 

“Y/N, are you leaving?” You turn to see Charlie standing behind you. 

“I have a song to write, the final one y’all need if I might add.” You smile at him, pulling your keys out of your bag. 

“I can’t wait to hear it.” 

“Well, I better make it a great track then, huh?” Your words made Charlie grin widely again and you couldn’t help but think how beautiful it was. 

“You’re the only one to ask about the characters, so I have no doubt it’ll be amazing.” 

His words didn’t surprise you. You were a bit of a method songwriter, needing to get into the correct headspace when writing emotional songs. 

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.” You bit at your lip as the ever-familiar seed of doubt began to grow in your mind. It happened every time, but you always managed to ignore it. 

“I’m sure you won’t. Hey, I was wondering if you’d let me hear it before you send it to Kenny.” That did surprise you. You’d been hired by Netflix, yet the lead actor was asking you to share something with him first. 

“Er… I’m not sure if I’m allowed. I mean, what if they don’t like it and don’t use it?” 

“Oh, right. Okay. Anyway, it was nice to meet you.” He held out his hand for you to shake. When your hand was in his, he lifted it and placed a soft kiss against your knuckles. A flicker of heat shot up your arm and your eyes shot to lock onto his. Judging by how wide they were, he’d felt it too. Eventually, you withdrew your hand from his, even though you didn’t particularly want to. 

“You too. Good luck with the show.” Unlocking your car, you climbed in, and started the engine. With one last look at Charlie as you pulled the door closed, you forced yourself to pull out of the parking lot and drive away. 

:: ::

          |@charles_gillespie started following you

 You stared at the notification on your Instagram account. It had been two days since your trip to meet up with Kenny and the cast – well, Charlie in particular – and you’d been working hard on the song. Intrigued, you clicked onto his profile and scrolled through his photos. He clearly loved the outdoors and spent a lot of time hiking or camping. You can’t help but smile when you see photos of him with his family and friends. 

You follow him back and put your phone down to pick your guitar back up to continue working. 

         |@charles_Gillespie sent you a message 

Hey 

Hi 

The app indicated Charlie was typing, then he wasn’t, then typing again, but no message came through. Shrugging, you put your phone back down and continued working. You had a title, a melody, and had almost finished the lyrics. It was full of emotion and if asked, you’d totally admit you had cried more than once while writing it. 

How’s the song coming? Another message from Charlie. It made you smile, but you needed to finish working. You turned your phone off and focused. 

Finally, the song was finished. All you needed to do was to record a rough cut to send over to Kenny and the writer so they could see if it needed any amendments before sending over the final version along with the chords and lyrics. You head into the tiny studio you have set up in your apartment and record the song. It takes three takes for you to get through it without crying, but once you do, you send it straight over and stop working for the night. 

Turning your phone back on, it buzzes insanely with a slew of notifications. Friends checking up on you, your parents inviting you to dinner, an email from Kenny telling you they love the rough cut and asking you to send a cleaner copy tomorrow, and a couple of messages from Charlie on Instagram. Now you’re able to respond properly, you open the app. 

Sorry if I’m disturbing you. 

I hope the song’s going well. 

Hey, sorry. I turned my phone off while I was finishing up. Kenny has the rough cut, so I’m about to chill out and watch a movie. Hope all is well at bootcamp. 

You worry the message you reply with is overly formal, but it’s too late as it’s showing as being seen. You busy yourself making some food and picking out a movie to watch. Settling on your couch to watch the first To All the Boys movie, your phone begins to buzz. 

Charlie 👅🍀

Instagram video 

With a slightly trembling finger, you accept the call and soon Charlie’s face fills half of your screen. 

“Hey, Y/N.” he smiles brightly at you. 

“Hey.” You’re a little confused about why he’s calling you, but you decide to go with it. 

“Kenny played me the rough cut of Unsaid Emily. I just wanted to tell you it’s beautiful and I can’t wait to sing it.” 

“Thanks, I’m glad everyone seems to like it.” 

“Y/N, we didn’t just like it, we all loved it. So many people were crying when they heard it.” 

“I would apologize, but my mom taught me not to tell lies.” His laugh burst out of the speaker on your phone. 

“Don’t, it’s great. It’s gonna be a great addition to the show.” 

You grab the remote for the TV to turn the volume down as the film you’d picked to watch was starting. 

“Hey, what movie are you watching?” he asks when you apologize for the interruption. 

“Oh, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” You can’t help but notice he scrunches up his face, and you also can’t help but notice how adorable it looks. “What was that face for?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be a chick flick kinda girl…” 

“Oh, I don’t watch it for the story.” You can’t help but laugh as he tries to work out what you mean. 

“What’s the point of watching it then?” 

“Because Noah Centineo’s pretty to look at.” You don’t add the fact he’s not as pretty as Charlie. It’s not exactly something you can admit on a first Instagram video call – not that you’re expecting there to be more. 

“I’m not going to disagree, but is he prettier than me?” You laugh and roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m not going to answer that question on the grounds that I barely know you.” 

“I can see you blushing, Y/N. I think you think I’m prettier, but don’t want to admit it to my face.” He’s full on laughing now and you can’t help but join in. 

“Carry on teasing me, I’ll end this call.” You threaten, making his eyes widen slightly. 

“I’m sorry. So, tell me about yourself?” You see him getting comfortable on what looks like a bed. He’s soon lying sideways on the screen in front of you. You decide to mimic him, propping your phone against a glass candle holder on the table next to you. You lie on your side facing both your phone and the TV. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Well, for starters, how old are you?” 

“I’m twenty-five. You?” 

“Twenty-one.” 

For two hours, the two of you throw questions back and forth as the movie comes to an end without you noticing. 

“Do you think you’ll come to set?” He asks you, surprising you. 

“I think it’s doubtful. Once I record a cleaner version of Unsaid Emily, my job’s done. I’m not needed anymore.” 

“Oh…” Did you detect a hint of disappointment in his voice? No, you didn’t. 

“Well, this has been fun, Charles Jeffrey Gillespie, but I have an appointment in the morning, and I really need to get some sleep.” You sit up, take hold of your phone, and walk out of the lounge to your bedroom. 

“Taking me to bed, already? Haven’t even had to buy you dinner.” Charlie jokes, making you roll your eyes at him. “Okay. Maybe we can do this again? Bootcamp lasts for a while longer yet, then we’re going to film in Vancouver.” 

“That would be great. And thanks again for being nice about the song.” You both say your goodbyes and once the call has ended, you collapse back on to your bed, unsure exactly what has happened. 

:: :: 

It’s been three months since you had Unsaid Emily accepted by the show, and in that time you and Charlie have video called on Instagram a few times, but you’re both crazy busy. You’re working on a score for a videogame while he’s finished up with bootcamp and has relocated to Vancouver to start filming. The entire time, neither of you suggested meeting up even though you both lived in L.A. 

You’re just leaving your parent’s home when your phone rings in your bag. Not recognizing the number on screen, you debate not answering it, but brush your thumb across the screen anyway. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/N? It’s Kenny. Are you okay to talk?” 

“Hi Kenny, I’ve always got time for you.” You hear him laugh down the phone. “What can I do for you Mr. Ortega?” 

“I was wondering, because you did such a great job with Unsaid Emily, if you’d like to come on set to watch it being filmed? See how we’ve adapted it?” Well, that wasn’t what you expected to hear. 

“I’d love to. When do you film?” 

“The day after tomorrow. I’m sorry it’s all so last minute, but I’ve been busy.” 

“I can just about manage it. I’ll book a flight when I get back home, then I’ll message you for directions to the studio.” 

“Sounds great. See you soon, and I really think you’ll love what we’ve done with the song.” You reassure him you will and end the call and get into your car to drive home. 

After juggling a few things around, you’re able to book a flight to Vancouver for the next afternoon. When You message Kenny, he reassures you there’ll be a car waiting for you. You decide to book a hotel for two nights and a flight back the next day. You’ve never been to a TV set, and don’t know how long these things take. As you pack an overnight bag, you realize you’re excited, not only about seeing your work come to life, but seeing Charlie again, in the flesh. 

:: :: 

Arriving in Vancouver, you walked through the airport and out into the arrivals lounge, looking for the driver Kenny had sent to pick you up. You were able to bypass having to wait for your luggage thanks to only having a small carry-on bag so made it through the crowds pretty quickly. When you emerged, you saw a row of drivers holding signs, but none had your name on. Deciding to find somewhere to sit and call Kenny, you move past the drivers in black suits. Directly in front of you is Charlie wearing a wide grin. 

“Hey you. Moonlighting as a chauffeur to make ends meet?” You tease as you approach him. He surprises you by pulling you into a hug. 

“It’s weird not seeing your face on a small screen.” He jokes as he leads you outside, taking your bag from you. You can’t help but notice he’s been working out and his biceps are looking impressive. Well, you knew he had anyway thanks to his constant posting on Instagram, and from your video calls, but seeing it up close makes your mouth go dry. 

“I’ve had to put make-up on. No filters in real life, Gillespie.” He rolled his eyes at you as he unlocked his car, an orange Nissan Juke.

 “Some car there…” You struggle to hold in a laugh and his mock hurt look. 

“Look, it may not be pretty, but it’s great for camping and heading out of town to go hiking.” He was almost pouting when he finished speaking. 

“Okay, okay. I give in.” you climb into the car. “Why aren’t you on set?” 

“I wasn’t needed for a couple of hours, so I offered to come and meet you. I have to be back once you’re checked in at your hotel. Sorry it’s a bit of a rush.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I can go out sightseeing while you’re working hard.” You grin at him. “I’ve never been to Vancouver, or Canada, before.” 

“You’ve clearly lived a very sheltered life.” He’s teasing so you just stick your tongue out at him before turning your attention out of the window as Charlie maneuvered the car out of the parking lot. “Have you even left California?” Again with the teasing. 

“Not only have I left the state, but I’ve also even left the country.” 

“That’s cool, where did you go?” 

“I studied in London for a year, then I backpacked around Europe for another, before coming home and becoming a functioning member of society.” 

“That’s actually pretty awesome. I’d love to do that, just travel around for a year and get to see so many amazing places.” There’s a look in his eyes you recognize. Wanderlust. 

Before long, Charlie’s pulling up outside your hotel and helping you out of the car. 

“I would make sure you get checked in okay, but I need to jet. I’m sorry, shall we meet up later, I can introduce you to the rest of the cast.” 

“That would be great. Message me so I know when to be ready and where to meet y’all.” He agrees, places a soft kiss against your cheek and gets back into the car. You watch him drive away before going to check in. 

:: :: 

When you took the job of writing a song for a TV show, you never expected to find yourself out to dinner with the cast of said show, watching them do karaoke. All of them have included you, which made you feel as if you’re part of their circle, despite their many in jokes and stories from set. Madison greeted you like an old friend, telling you she’d head a lot about you from Charlie. That surprised you because you hardly knew him beyond the few video calls you’d had. 

“He talks about you all the time, and Owen says he can hear his side of the conversations. He teases him about it all the time.” You stare at her, confused. 

“That’s crazy. We hardly know each other.” 

“Doesn’t stop feelings from happening.” She laughs at you, before dragging you up to perform with her. 

The entire evening is a blast, but you all have to call it a night early thanks to their early call to set. You plan to call an uber back to your hotel, but Charlie insists on making sure you get back safe. As you say goodbye to the others, Madison give you a look you don’t even attempt to try and decipher. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had a great time. You’re lucky you guys are so close.” You tell Charlie as your uber moves through the dark streets. 

“Yeah, they’re great and we’re like a family. I know it sounds corny and cliché, but it’s the truth. I think that’s why Kenny set up bootcamp. It makes going to work so much easier.” 

Silence falls over you, but it’s a comfortable one, and all too soon, you’re pulling up outside your hotel. 

“Thanks for making sure I got back safe.” You say as you get ready to climb out of the car. Charlie surprises you by following you. “Oh, you don’t need to see me inside, I’m a big girl.” 

“I know, but my mom would kill me if I didn’t. I was taught to make sure pretty girls got home safe.” You laugh but are filled with warmth at him calling you pretty. 

“I bet you use that line on all the girls.” You give him a nudge with your shoulder which makes him laugh. 

“Not really.” He holds out his elbow for you to tuck your hand through as he walks into the building. 

Once you’re outside your room, you turn to face him and thank him for inviting you out again. 

“It was a pleasure. I just hope you had a good time.” 

“I really did. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

“Yeah, see you.” 

:: :: 

The following morning, you’re up at what feels like the crack of dawn. You’re regretting the shots you had the night before as you climb into an uber to head over to the studio. The closer you get, the more excited you become. You’ve seen your songs brought to life on screen before, but you’ve never been there for the filming. 

As you climb out of your car, you hear someone call out your name. You turn to see Madison and her dad walking toward you. 

“Hey Y/N. How are you feeling after last night?” She asks, giggling slightly. You’re more than a little jealous of the fact she’s a minor and is unable to drink any alcohol. 

“A bit delicate, but nothing a strong coffee won’t cure.” You smile as she introduces you to her dad as the three of you walk inside. They stay with you as you’re signed in and given a visitor’s pass. 

“What do you know about this scene you’re watching today?” Madison asks you as you follow her through the hallways. 

“Not a lot if I’m honest. I know a little background to the song and Luke as a character, but nothing else.” 

“Woah, you’re in for a treat. I hope you didn’t wear any eye make-up.” Mr. Reyes laughs at his daughter’s words as you reach the catering tent. The aroma of coffee is calling you. “Well, I’ll see you soon, I’m first in hair and make-up.” The young girl gives you a tight hug and leaves you to fuel your need for caffeine. 

By the time you’ve finished your drink, and a bagel, the tent is filling up around you. You spot Kenny entering and he makes a beeline for you. 

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again.” 

“Thanks for having me. I’m honored to be invited. I know this is a bit unusual.” 

“Honey, you don’t need to thank me. It was this guy’s idea.” He stepped aside to reveal Charlie, in full Luke costume. 

“Oh…” 

:: :: 

Standing next to Kenny, you’re silent as the opening bars to your song start to play. A lump has already gathered in your throat as you watch Charlie as Luke singing to his mother who can’t see him. You knew it was an emotional song, but hearing it sung live and in context of the show, you can’t quite believe it’s yours. 

You know they have some scenes to film that will be cut into the scene, but you can’t help being mesmerized by the tone of Charlie’s voice as he sings a song of regret. 

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as rounds a corner of the set, belting out the final pre chorus, the rasp to his voice, and tears flowing down his face. Kenny takes a look at you and grabs hold of your hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“You did good.” He compliments you. Wiping at your eyes, hoping your mascara isn’t running, you shake your head. 

“No, that was all him.” Once filming’s over, you make an excuse to Kenny and head outside for some fresh air. You’re feeling overwhelmed and in awe of what they’ve done with your song. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie’s voice is soft as he walks up to stand next to you. 

“I’m fine, just a bit overwhelmed. I never expected it to… to be that good.” You realize you could have offended him and begin to stumble over your words. “Not that I mean… you’ve got an amazing voice, and you injected so much hurt and pain into the song. It sounded better than I ever imagined it to.” 

You feel like a bumbling idiot and turn away from Charlie so he can’t see the embarrassment on your face. He moves to stand directly in front of you, using his hand to gently lift your chin so you have nowhere else to look but directly into his eyes. 

“If the song wasn’t right, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I just did, so it’s all on you too.” It feels as if his hazel eyes are looking deep into your soul. 

“Thank you.” You finally accept a compliment, making him smile. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“Why did you ask for me to be here today?” 

“Because the moment I heard the rough cut of Unsaid Emily I felt it was only right you be here. There something in your lyrics and melody that will truly have an affect on the audience, and I felt you needed to see that for yourself.” He suddenly let go of you and looked away. 

“Why do I feel like there’s an ‘and’ coming?” 

“And… the moment I heard that rough cut, I needed to know more about you. That’s why I followed you on Insta and started the video calls. I needed to know you.” 

You don’t know what to say, not that there’s time for you to. Charlie looks back at you, places his hands on your waits, and bends his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss. It’s quick, but gets your pulse racing. He pulls away, slowly. 

“Is Noah Centineo still prettier than me?” 

You laugh before crushing your lips against is again, this time not so softly.

‘

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Tags: @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @xplrreylo​

If you’d like to be tagged, just drop me a message.

[11paruline44]

If you were to put every major Star Wars character together in one room

(This post ignores the existence of the sequel trilogy)

So, Palpatine is a scarily competent, terrifyingly powerful villain, but do you know what I love about him? He’s so terrible to people that every major Star Wars character, be they hero or villain, hates him by the end of their lifetime. Sure, most of his life, ol’ Skeevy Sheev managed to avoid people discovering his true nature before he’d finished using them for whatever purpose he had in mind. But what would happen if all the characters knew the truth?

Imagine if the Force or some other powerful mechanism managed to pull every major Star Wars character from the timeline together in one room, immediately after their deaths. They’ve all played their parts life already and become one with the Force, but the Force has one more task for them, and deposits them all, unceremoniously, in the same place. This is a lot of heroes and villains in one spot. As they start scanning the room around them in confusion and shock, they begin to note many friends they lost, but also enemies whose presence makes them itch for a fight. But then, inevitably, each character realizes they are in the same room as thEE Darth Sidious, aka Emperor Palpatine—and that’s all it takes for them to wordlessly decide, as one, to rush him first. I mean, everyone has a grudge with him, by the time of their death. Everyone:

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader: While he switched to the Light Side right before death, he’s still pretty dang Dark-susceptible, despite his remorse. (And this man takes everything personally.) So, as he looks around, only to see tons of people he’d been on opposite sides of a war from, once upon a time, his temper begins to rise. Maul… Dooku… and ugh, that ragamuffin smuggler who seems to have a thing for his daughter… but then he sees Palpatine. The old wrinkled prune who he was forced to work for for decades, who destroyed his life and nearly killed his son, who Anakin/Vader literally just thought he’d killed. Anakin rushes him in a rage on the spot, no questions asked.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: Now, of course, Obi-Wan justifies everything with perfectly justifiable Jedi reasons—Sidious is a Sith Lord, the archenemy of the Jedi, and one who has taken over the galaxy and caused irreparable harm to billions of life-forms. He obviously should, strategically, not be left living any longer than can be helped. But yet… Obi-Wan truly joins the fight to kill Palpatine because of what he did to the Jedi and to his family compatriots. All of Obi-Wan’s “infinite sadness” can be traced back to him, after all.

Ahsoka Tano: She may not have known the full story, but she saw the results—Anakin became Darth Vader under Sidious’s thrall. She’s quite annoyed, since she could have sworn the sleemo had already been dealt with, years ago—but she, too, won’t ask questions if she has a chance to take him down while he’s still breathing. Palpatine is going down.

Padmé Amidala: She lived long enough to see Palpatine proclaim himself Emperor, at the very least, though she didn’t see the horrible results. But seeing everyone else’s murderous reactions—especially Anakin’s—she figures they have a good reason and gets her blaster at the ready.

Rex: This whole situation reeks of “Jedi business” shavit to him, but he won’t ever miss an opportunity to fire at the Emperor.

(Any other clone who lived past Order 66 in possession of their right mind, for that matter: It’s the Emperor! Attack!)

Count Yan Dooku/Darth Tyrannus: His final moments still ring through his head—Sidious urging Skywalker to kill him. (Skywalker, who Dooku is beginning to realize was probably his replacement.) In an instant, Dooku sets aside all other grudges to prioritize. He wants his old master dead. Nobody likes being replaced, after all, least of all—

Darth Maul. Yes, Maul sees Kenobi, his avowed worst enemy who, in his mind, just killed him, and is about to go at him first—but then he sees the sheer number of people rushing Palpatine instead, and is caught off guard. Despite himself, Maul, for once, sees some hope—a chance to take his old master down like never before. Maul, too, can be practical enough to prioritize just this once. Sidious screwed him over, too, after all—and who is Maul to ignore a chance for sweet revenge, after all.

Qui-Gon Jinn: There’s a lot of people in the room Qui-Gon doesn’t recognize, and most look older—older by far—but as multiple Jedi suddenly launch themselves at Senator Palpatine, all he has to do ask the person he’s pretty sure must be an older version of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan responds that Palpatine is the Sith Master—and that’s that. Qui-Gon notices Maul joining the fight, and notes that once they’re done, he’ll want to take care of that problem—but he’s a patient enough Jedi to prioritize.

Asajj Ventress: Ventress also wasn’t aware of who the Sith Master was before her death, but she’s close enough to Kenobi as the fight begins to hear his answer to Qui-Gon. Palpatine is Sidious? She joins in immediately. She has an eye on Dooku the whole time, but as a former Sith apprentice, she knows how dangerous the Sith Master must be, and that he must be taken out first.

Mace Windu: You’d better believe he has a bone to pick with Skywalker, once he’s done with Palps—dude cut off his hand—but first things first? He’s got the muthafucka who electrocuted him to kill.

Luke Skywalker: At first, he’s ever so happy to see his father, Obi-Wan, and Yoda again… but seeing the Emperor again immediately brings back his worst memories. Palpatine was the ultimate evil, and regardless of whatever has caused him to live again, he shouldn’t be allowed to continue living any longer than Luke can help it.

Leia Organa: The Emperor? Leia sees him, and she’s pissed. Palpatine was everything she fought against in her young life, until he was defeated—and then she had to spend the rest of her life trying to undo his legacy of terror and despotism. Any living iteration of Palpatine must be killed, no questions asked.

Han Solo: Leia! Hey, Leia, is that the Emperor? I could’ve sworn we defeated the Empire decades ago, what the hell is going on?…. You know what, I always wanted a chance to shoot him in his ugly face. Let’s go for it.

Yoda: Bad news, the Emperor is. Failed to vanquish the Sith before, I have. But miss the opportunity to try again, I must not.

Lando Calrissian: Lando is confused. Who even are most of these people, anyway? But what the hell? He’s always hated the Emperor.

The only major characters I can think of that wouldn’t actively try to kill Palpatine wouldn’t actively stop anyone from killing him, either:

-General Grievous: As far as this guy ever knew, Palpatine was the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, so why’d he want to protect him? Kenobi’s in the room, and he’d be of a one-track mind to go after him instead—but it’d be a bit hard to do when everyone else is gunning for Palpatine, causing quite the mess.

- Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin: Seeing that the current situation isn’t going in Palpatine’s favor, Tarkin would prefer to sit back and watch everything play out. He’s power-hungry enough that he’d relish in the chance to have the Emperor taken out so he could take over instead.

-Jabba the Hutt: All Jabba cares is that Han Solo and his buddies just massacred his whole operation, killing him, too. Without enough cronies to form a defense, he’d want to get out of there to avoid it happening again. The Emperor is just a side note to him—he never cared who ruled the galaxy as long as he could continue making money.

So, in conclusion:

#Murder Palpatine Squad

[faintblueivy]

Adi that was amazing!!! I started crying cause Bruce got so protective of his kids, and then Martha recognized him. My heart is melting. Please more I beg. I Jude want the batfam to be happy

THANK YOU! I'm glad you liked it! ❤️

Have Some more! Sorry about the lateness again!

...

The silence was deafening. Bruce absently registered a bewildered Alfred slowly lowering his shotgun. Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes. He coughed awkwardly at all the attention that seemed to spur everyone in action and Dick immediately lifted himself. 

Five minutes later, he was sitting in the den from across the kid as they maintained a hawk-eyed gaze. Even a little Damian was carefully perched on Dick’s arms was staring at him suspiciously. Bruce felt his heart break at how young and small his son looked in this world. He never had the chance the chance to see Damian as little baby and somewhere deep down, it will always weigh down on his mind.

“Am I such a rare sight here?” He asked after being subjected to the stares of seemingly distrustful version of his kids. 

Jason snorted and Dick elbowed him in response and then turned to Bruce sheepishly. 

“Uh...well, yeah. You see, as far as we know, Bruce Wayne has been...not alive.” 

“For decades.” Jason was quick to answer.

Oh, it made sense. His mother’s tearful disbelief and Alfred’s baffled look. How his mother had excused herself, probably to take a moment to compose herself and inform his father that a man who wore the face of their dead child was in their home.

“Oh!” Tim exclaimed out of nowhere and Bruce had to smile realizing that his third son was detective by nature, no matter which universe.

“You are from another universe! Like Damian.”

“That I am.” 

“Oh.” The soft voice was of Thomas Wayne. With greying hair and wrinkled brows, he looked a lot like what Bruce imagined he would look in his old age. His mother and Alfred were standing beside him.

“So, you are really Bruce. From another world?” He mumbled.

Bruce gave him a nod.

There was an uncomfortable silence that settled over them and Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on! Give him a hug or two Gramps and Gram’ma.”

That made Martha laugh, her voice tinkling in some distant memory on his that Bruce felt his eyes well up with tears as she quickly strode towards him and wrapped her arms in that warm hug that he remembered like the back of his hand even after decades. His father followed the suit and some tears did trickle down his eyes at the feeling of safety it brought. 

Absently, it made him wonder when was the last time he had held his children to express his affection.

After a few minutes of none of them letting each other go, they heard a fussy whine from Damian and Dick was trying to shush him down. He has tears in his eyes too and Bruce did not need to a be detective to know that Dick might have desired for something like this from his own parents. Suddenly Damian made grabby hands towards his father and Thomas was quick to take him in his right arm and wound the left one around Dick who was furiously wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Oh, I haven’t introduced my family to you, have I?” His mother smiled, “Where are my manners!”

Then she pointed at Dick. “This is Richard, then Jason, Timothy and Cassandra.” At last she pointed at the fussy baby in Thomas’ arms.

“And this is Damian. Well, he is-”

“My son.” Bruce acknowledged. “You took them all in after I was gone.” He observed.

Martha gave him a solemn smile and a nod. “After I lost you, having them in life was a blessing.” She said softly.

Oh, he knew that too.

“In my world,” he started and noticed how everyone’s attention turned to him. “My parents - that world’s version of Martha and Thomas Wayne were killed.”

Gasps of varying intensity were heard but Bruce only had eyes for the look on his parents face. They looked devastated.

“I am so sorry Bruce.” Thomas whispered. “I am sorry we left you an orphan.”

“Father, it was not your or mother’s fault.” Bruce was quick to rectify. “And I was not an orphan.” He turned to Alfred who was standing beside Cassandra with his stiff upper lip but eyes full of emotions. He gave a grateful smile to the older man. 

“Alfred raised me.” 

...

After the chaos following his words died down a little, and they were having tea and snack when he found Dick staring at him.

“Is...something the matter, Dick?” he questioned after a while, taking a sip of his tea.

Dick nodded. “I...don’t know how to say this...but, uh, do you know us? The other versions of us?” He waved a hand towards his siblings. His question was quick to draw everyone’s attention. “I have a hunch that you do.”

Leave to his oldest to drop important questions out of nowhere. 

“Yes, I do.” Bruce stared at the brown liquid inside the cup of his tea and then his gaze sweeped over all five of his children.

“You are all my children.” He confessed. “Not just Damian, but all of you. I adopted you. I’m your father.” 

His statement made Martha drop her teacup with a loud crash that resonated in the silence of the aftermath of words.

“We are family?” His father was the one to question, and he looked absolutely breathless.

“Yes, we are family.”

“I’m glad.” His mother whispered, like a prayer. “I’m so, so glad.”

“We are family. No matter what Universe.” 

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

MY BNHA / MHA OC:

ARKANA.

On the left you have the civilian version and on the right you can see how she looks as a vigilante, while using her quirk.

Vigilante name: Arkana, from a Latin root. It means "mysterious, unknown".

Nickname: Arka, from a Latin root. It implies protecting or hiding something.

Pronouns: All pronouns, mostly she/her.

Age: In her early twenties, not more than 25 but older than 20.

Quirk: "Blind jump" or "act of faith" ; it allows its users to shape reality as long as the users believe that what they're creating or shaping is real. For example, if they fire an empty gun thinking or believing it still has bullets, the gun is gonna fire perfectly.

Pros: The users can shape reality without using their hands or without seeing. All it requires is believing. Thanks to this, they can adapt quickly to any situation.

Cons: The greater the change in reality, the quicker the users get exhausted. Since it requires a lot of attention and faith in what they're doing, if the users doubt, immediately the quirk loses the effect.

MORE INFO UNDER THE CUT!

[ Feel free to write me or contact me at @miseryseekscompany you want to know more about her or if you want our ocs to interact or roleplay. 😌 ]

S T O R Y :

— Past:

Alabanza Shinko was rescued by Loud Cloud when she was about to turn four years old. The hero impacted her so much, she decided she wanted to become just like him. She didn't have to wait too long, for her quirk manifested some months after that while she was having a nightmare.

Shinko belived there was a monster in her room, so her quirk activated and create the monster in real life. After dealing with that she trained really hard to control her quirk, avoiding new accidents.

She went to UA, where she selected the hero name Limina, from the Latin root meaning "threshold", but also referring to "liminar" , a place that's between two other places. Her hero suit was grey and purple with touches of gold, similar to a lobby guy uniform, with goggles to honor Loud Cloud's memory. She focused entirely on turning her accessories into weapons, because using her quirk to shape reality or shape people was too complicated and exhausting.

Her quirk was named "entry" or "inlet" back then. It was a reference to her being the medium between another realm and her own, therefore the hero name meaning "threshold".

She graduated without problems. However, after two or three years in the hero system, she realized how corrupted was the hero society. She witnessed how a family was ruined by a powerful hero, with nothing she could do about it while being an amateur.

— Present:

It actually surprised her when the oldest son of the family contacted her to make a deal: he was going to design her (secretly) a new suit to hide her identity, if she could do something about it as a vigilante.

Shinko accepted. She decided to get a normal job to sustain her in the daily basis, becoming Arkana the rest of the time.

Since that day, Arkana dedicated her life to save people not matter what, specifically those who no one else would save.

— Future:

She doesn't know where she's going, but she hopes her road takes her down to a new world where heroes are not just empty names and villains are not just victims.

— Relationships:

Some pro-heroes are trying to catch her, some secretly support her. The same happens with the villains, who can see her as an ally or a threat. When it comes to young students or civilians, she can always lend them a hand from the dark.

She can't go back to living with her family and she normally hides from place to place, alleging that is hard for her to find a proper job.

Pro-heroes, people that studied with her and her former teachers can recognize her if she uses her powers without her glasses on— or simply because they remember well enough her quirk or actitud.

Loud Cloud is her favorite pro-hero, even if he died during his internships. She also admires Iida Tensei, known as Ingenium, for his hard work on the daily matters.

O T H E R D E T A I L S :

— Personality:

Arkana can be perceived as distant or cold, but that's because she is always careful with the situations that surround her and the thoughts in her head. She's actually pretty kind and mysterious, nervous but stubborn, insecure but full of conviction when it come to her values. When facing an enemy, she can be intimidating and become bratty. When facing a friend, she's like a very tired child, bright and gentle, but exhausted.

As a student she used to be hardworking and smart, following her own path while still trying to help her classmates.

She doesn't like to define too much her gender, gender identity, sexual and romantic attraction. She prefers to keep her mine open to avoid her quirk interrupting her real identity.

— Vigilante Suit:

When using her quirk, Arka's eyes turn mostly white, reflecting the shadows of the reality-shifting. To avoid people finding out when she's using her quirk and to concentrate in what's she's shaping, she wears high tech glasses that read what she's creating and shows it to her like they were already real. She wears a sleeveless black suit that fits her body for better mobility, along with black high boots, because she prefers close-combat. She also wears a sort of tiara that sometimes levitates like a halo above her hair. She can shape it into a variety of weapons using her quirk. All the details and accessories are either crimson or grey.

— Villain AU:

In this alternative universe, Alabanza Shinko was abandoned by her family on Japan and casted away by society. Used to disassociating and thanks to her quirk, she started believing reality was nothing but what she wanted it to be. She adopted the name Fictio, as in fictional.

Her quirk received the name "query" or "doubt". Her speciality is making people doubt reality so she can shape it better.