#MAMA BIRD HAD ARRIVED

[idv-ask-the-unknown]

“Nyato?!” Heifu title his head while saying that, wounded what Tue mean before a hand had red on top of his head suddenly making him look behind him to see who just Pat him.

To only see Miss Nightingale, his mother!!

“MAMA :D!!”

"𝓗𝓮𝓲𝓯𝓾, 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻... 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓘 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓮𝓽?!"

“Not do… but I really am curious about her >3<!!”

"𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓪 𝓻𝓾𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸..." Nightingale then turn to look at Rue and started to talk to her "𝓙 𝓪𝓶 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭'𝓼 𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼. 𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓶, 𝓡𝓾𝓮"

“Rue~ I Finally found you!!”

A young looking man with dark outfits and white hair with gray highlights was approaching Rue happily and almost hopping with each step he takes when walking towards her before he stop with the butterflies that follows him. The butterflies were making a sound that sound like a soft a gentle glass/crystal clinking together as if they were talking ti each other while some float around Rue in wonder yet excitement.

“I finally get the chance to meet you in person for real this time!! Fufufu~ I am Heifu, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last!”

Rue: ?

[evie-sturns]

21 - Chris Sturniolo

summary: when you recieve a unusual call from chris, you realise he’s got blackout drunk on his 21st birthday. you’re forced to go pick him up and take care of him in his interesting state..

contains: fluff, mentions of alcohol, bestfriend!chris, mentions of throwing up (no detail whatsoever), a lot of chaos

————————————🔸————————————

11:36pm

i yawn as i shuffle around in bed, my warm covers wrapped around me as i scroll through instagram,

suddenly my phone starts to ring,

‘incoming call from ‘chrizzzzyy’

i pick up the phone, pressing it to my ear as chris instantly starts,

“you know you’re so beautiful, like soo gorgeous.” he mumbles into the phone, his words slurred.

there’s faint chatter in the background, along with heavy music.

“chris? you okay?” i ask, my eyebrows knitting together with confusion.

“i need you- like how a baby bird needs its mama” he groans, followed by a loud laugh.

i giggle, “chris what is wrong with you!”

the realisation hits.

chris turned 21 today, i couldn’t make it to his party due to work, but for fucks sake, this kid is drunk.

“oh my god- chris you got drunk? i thought you said you wouldn’t!” i say frantically,

“uh factually i am not drunk- i think you’ll find.” he fumbles over his words,

“can you come.” he follows up.

i scoff, “christopher- it is midnight, where are you?”

he pauses for a moment, before i hear him chatter to someone else,

“yo- where am i, my girl wants to know” he mumbles to a friend i assume,

he shortly gets back to me “i’m at home, but i want to be at your home.”

i nod with a small huff, “god, i’ll come get you now, just wait on the curb and don’t go on the road whatever you do.”

he almost giggles, “you sound like my mommy.”

i groan before hanging up,

i heave myself out of bed, knowing i’m about to have to collect my best friend in his state.

i grab my keys and fix my hair before walking downstairs, creaking open the door.

the cold night hair hits me hard, i shiver as i jog up to my car, swinging open the car door.

i instantly speed off down the street.

-

10 minutes later i arrive at his street, the pebbles crunch under my tires as i slowly drive to his house.

chris shoots up from his sat position on the side walk, giving me a huge grin.

i pull up beside him, reaching over and opening the door.

“hey baby.” he grins, flopping down in the passenger seat,

“chris.” i warn, reaching over and buckling him in.

“how much have you had to drink?” i ask, looking over at him.

he hesitates before shrugging, “shit- ‘prolly like 20 or something.”

i pause, “20 of what.”

he shrugs again, “couldn’t tell ya sweet cheeks.”

i throw my head back, with a small laugh.

“come- come sit on my lap” he grins, his eyes half shut, patting his lap.

“chris! i am not your girlfriend.” i remind him, his face drops

“you’re- you’re breaking up with me!?” he raises his voice

“we were never dating” i point out, his eyes water.

“are you seriously gonna cry?” i laugh,

he nods with a small pout, “my girl, my one and only is dumping me-“

i lean over the centre console and give him a hug,

i hold back laughs as i pull out my phone, putting it on 0.5x and holding it up.

“tell me what’s wrong chris.” i grin,

“you- you’re breaking up with me!” his words are slurred as he throws a mini tantrum.

“you’re my babe, my hot little babe.” he sighs,

“oh my god chris”. i laugh, putting my phone down and starting the car,

i roll down the windows for him as i attempt to explain that fact that i am NOT his girlfriend, and never had been.

he sits up on his knees and attempts to make a break for it out the window, he sticks his arms and head out the window.

i reach over and grab his shirt, pulling him back in before rolling up the window

“chris! no!”

he mumbles something vaguely before looking over at me,

“we hooking up tonight right?” he blurts out so causally.

“shit i bet you could give me the best-“ he starts but i clamp a hand over his mouth.

“chris.. anything you say tonight you will regret.” i warn him with a smile.

“but- but you’re so pretty!” he protests,

i pull into my driveway, hopping out the car before walking over to chris’s side.

i open the door and he jumps out, stumbling over onto the grass.

“oh no chris.” i sigh, grabbing his underarms and picking him up.

he wraps his legs around my lower back and burys his head into my shoulder.

i carry him up the driveway with small huffs,

i fiddle with my keys before unlocking the door, chris is practically a koala bear, clinging to me as i heave us upstairs.

i finally enter my room before dropping him on the bed.

i switch on the light and take a good look at him,

“like what you seee.” he grins with a stupid lip bite,

he looks white as a sheet, my eyes widen as i grab his hand.

i run him into the bathroom.

“i’m gonna throw up.” he mumbles,

“oh god oh god.” i whine, helping him into the shower.

i stand outside the shower as i frantically try to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of him.

i unbuckle his belt and tug it off, discarding it out the bathroom floor.

i unbutton his shorts for him, guiding them down his legs, leaving him in his boxers.

“look- you get your boxers off and just try not to throw up for another minute.”

he giggles as he tugs his boxers down, i slide the shower curtain across and take a deep breath as i sit on the toilet lid.

he reaches a hand out of the shower curtain, holding his boxers.

“just drop them i’m not touching that.” i groan,

he drops them in the pile of clothes before i hear a small-

“oh shit.”

i reach into the shower and turn it on cold, trying to drown out the sounds of chris..

i hear some deep breaths from behind the curtain,

“y/n!!!! i threw up!!!” he calls out,

“that’s okay! just get clean in the shower for me!” i tell him,

he sounds panicked, “hey, the alcohol is better out then in sweetie.” i tell him,

he laughs in response, “you’re righhhtt!”

i scoff, waiting for him to finish up,

my eyes widen as chris goes silent, “chris! you better not be peeing in my shower i swear to god-“ i start but he cuts me off with a loud giggle.

i throw my head into my hands,

“oopsie daisy’s.” he doesn’t stop laughing.

-

after 45 minutes of chris yapping my ear off, i finally got him changed and in my bed.

“and then guess what he said, he said that he was gonna fight me if i didn’t give him my drink, like just admit you’re a alcoholic!” he rambles on about his night.

“lay down for me.” i tell him as he sits on my matress.

he flops down on my mattress, his head hitting the pillow.

i lean over the bed and tug up the covers over him.

i move his hair off his forehead with my hand then place a kiss to his forehead.

he yawns loudly before whining,

“where are you going!”

i scoff, “i’m gonna sleep on the couch chris.”

he huffs, “but we sleep together all the time!”

i roll my eyes, “that’s when there’s no risk of you throwing up on me”

he kicks his legs, “i promise i won’t!”

i hesitate before giving in, jumping into bed beside him.

he smiles stupidly before wrapping his arms around me, tugging me into his side.

i usually wouldn’t let him cuddling me slide, but i guess he’s not gonna remember it tomorrow.

-

10:23am

i stir awake, chris’s arms still wrapped right around my waist.

he groans, waking up aswell.

“why am i cuddling you” he laughs tiredly,

“do you remember anything that happened last night?” i ask, sitting up in bed.

“not really.” he smiles, rubbing his eyes.

i reach over him and grab my phone, opening up the camera roll.

“you had a long love confession to me.” i giggle, his face drops.

“what?” he asks panicked, i give him my phone

he presses play, letting the video play outloud.

“you’re breaking up with me!? you’re my babe, my hot little babe”

-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos

[miguelhugger2099]

Back Muscles

Summary: Morning with Miguel, you get touchy seeing his bare back. I couldn't sleep and I think about him and his back 25/8 Miguel x Fem!Reader, Fluff, Not proofread, Word Count: 866

Miguel woke up with a groan, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and the familiar sounds of morning birds signaling the arrival of another day. He blinked away the sleep as he took in everything. His hand was around your waist as he spooned you from behind, his nose buried in the nape of your neck. He sleepily kissed the skin exposed and pulled you closer to him, his arm flexing as he did so. He waited for a few moments more, just feeling your flesh underneath his hand as his thumb caressed your stomach. You were still fast asleep, comfortable in the warmth Miguel’s body provided.

Realizing he needed to wake up, he reluctantly slipped his arm off your waist and pulled away from you to sit up in bed. He yawned widely, smacking and licking his dried lips while putting on his slippers. He stretched his arms up, easing out his sore muscles from the night before. After that, he stretched them side to side and then cracked his knuckles and neck.

You had felt the warmth leave you even with the covers and blankets over your body. It just wasn’t the same if it wasn’t Miguel around you. You turned your head to face Miguel’s side of the bed, squinting as you did from the new bright light in the room. You saw Miguel's broad back, each move he made to stretch was a ripple of muscles flexing and shifting. He rolled his shoulders back and your eyes were glued to the way he moved, trailing down to the slim waist you admired heavily. He didn’t seem to notice you woke up even when you shuffled in bed to sit up and move closer to him.

Your hand reached out to him, slipping your arms around his waist and curling your body against his back. You nuzzled your cheek between his shoulder blades and felt Miguel slightly jump at the new touch. He relaxed and leaned back, covering your hands with one of his larger hand.

“Morning, nena.” He murmured, turning slightly to pull you closer in a side hug with his arm around your shoulder. You accommodate to the new position, burying yourself in his bare chest. You hummed your response, still too tired to use your voice in the early morning. Miguel shifted some more, placing his legs back in bed and bringing you closer to him, practically dragging you in his lap. Your hands were still wrapped around his waist but this time, they moved up his spine. Your nails gently raked against his skin, feeling the soft muscle and smoothness of his tanned skin. You sigh in content as you feel up his back, gently scratching it which Miguel appreciated immensely. You nuzzled into his neck and Miguel had accepted it. His arm around your shoulder had fallen to your hip, his thumb rubbing up and down, while his other arm had gone up to your head and cupping your cheek. He lifted your head slightly and pressed a tender kiss in between your eyebrows. You finally opened your eyes and looked at him, the two of you having the same sleepy but adoring look.

You smiled softly and adjusted yourself in his arms to be a bit more comfortable. Your hands moved from his waist to his shoulders and down his back. “Morning…” You mumbled. Your nails went back to scratching his back, feeling the dips and curves. Miguel had felt you feeling him up and chuckled down at you.

“Having fun there, nena?” He asked you. Both of his hands had now gone to your hips.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You replied innocently, earning a boyish grin from Miguel. “Just feels nice. Looks nice. I like it.”

Miguel nodded, huffing a small chuckle and his gaze never leaving your face even as you began to fall asleep again. “I can tell, mama,” He didn’t mind. He never minded when it came to you. “Did I wake you?” He asked, resting his chin on top of your head as you leaned your head on his chest.

“Yeah but it’s fine. I just… You know I can’t sleep without you.” You felt your eyelids become heavy. It was earlier than when you usually wake up.

“I know, I know. I’m here now so you can go back to sleep.” Miguel knew this wasn’t the best idea. If he stayed in bed any longer, he’d be late for work. But with the way you immediately snuggled closer to him, curling against his chest, his heart swelled. He thought maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt. One of his hands rubbed up and down your back, humming a soft tune meant for your ears only. You listened to the lullaby of his heartbeat and steady breathing along with the rumble of his singing. In no time you fell back asleep, resting against Miguel as if he were your own personal mattress. For the next few minutes, Miguel admired your sleeping features, his finger tracing the shape of your jawline. He made sure you were in a deep sleep before setting you back in bed under the covers so he could start the day.

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Mother's Calm in the Storm"

Taglist- @circe143 @skittlebum

Masterlist

Summary: A few days past and you and Agatha continued to live on with her draining witches but one fateful day you happen to trigger your powers and don't know how to react luckily your mother is there to help -Chapter III

===============================

The forest was alive with the soft whispers of leaves in the wind, birds singing their afternoon songs as Agatha and her child walked together. It was the child’s tenth birthday, a day Agatha had known for years would be special in more ways than one. She’d sensed the potential growing within them, like a seed waiting for the right moment to bloom.

But she hadn’t expected that moment to arrive so suddenly.

One second, her child was bending to pick up a small stone by the river, and the next, it was as though the forest itself had come alive in response to their touch. The stone hovered, spinning in the air between their fingers, and all around them, pebbles and leaves began to rise, circling in a strange, beautiful dance. The child’s eyes widened, watching in shock as the power spread outward, pulling more of the forest into its grasp.

Agatha stepped closer, her heart swelling with pride and wonder, but her child’s face held only fear.

“Mama,” they whimpered, their voice shaking, “I don’t know what’s happening… Make it stop, please!”

The child’s breaths came faster, panicked, as more objects lifted into the air—small stones, branches, even the water from the river lifting in droplets, suspended in a shimmering ring around them. They backed up a step, clutching their hands to their chest, eyes brimming with tears.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, my love,” Agatha murmured, kneeling down to their level, her voice gentle and warm. “It’s just your magic coming to life. You’re not in danger, and I’m here with you.”

But the child shook their head, squeezing their eyes shut as tears spilled down their cheeks. “I don’t want this—I don’t know how to make it stop!” They sobbed, trembling as the energy surged stronger, the floating objects circling them faster, caught in a storm they didn’t understand.

Agatha’s heart ached to see their distress, but she kept her voice calm, her hands reaching out to gently rest on their shoulders. “Look at me, sweetheart,” she said softly, her thumbs brushing away their tears. “Take a deep breath, just like we do when we’re practicing our songs. Remember? Breathe in… and out.”

They opened their eyes, looking into her calm, reassuring gaze. Her voice, soft and steady, seemed to reach them even through their panic. They sniffled, trying to breathe with her, their small hands clutching hers like a lifeline. Agatha’s presence was a steady, warm anchor in the chaos.

“Good,” she whispered, brushing a stray hair from their face. “You’re doing so well, my brave one. Now, let’s try another breath. Nice and slow.”

They breathed in again, following her rhythm, and Agatha felt the storm of energy around them begin to calm, the floating objects dropping slightly. She held their gaze, smiling softly. “There you go. You’re safe, my love. Nothing bad will happen—you’re in control.”

But even as the child tried to steady their breath, another wave of energy surged within them, wild and powerful. The stones, leaves, and river water rose again, swirling in chaotic orbits around them. They gasped, feeling the power slip from their grasp, their tears returning in a flood.

“I… I can’t do it, Mama!” they cried, their small voice breaking with fear and frustration. “Everything’s spinning, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I’m so scared…”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Agatha pulled them into her arms, wrapping them in a warm, comforting embrace. “It’s okay, my love,” she murmured, stroking their hair, letting her touch soothe them. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m right here, and I’ll help you.”

The child clung to her, burying their face in her shoulder, sobs shaking their body as they tried to calm down. Agatha held them close, rubbing small circles on their back, her voice a steady whisper. “Listen to me, sweetheart. This magic—your magic—is a gift, and it’s a part of who you are. Right now, it feels strange and new, but with time, it will become familiar. You’re so strong, my brave little one.”

They pulled back slightly, looking up at her with tear-filled eyes. “But I… I can’t control it. It’s too much, Mama.”

Agatha cupped their cheek, her gaze soft and full of love. “That’s why I’m here, my love. I’ll help you learn to control it, bit by bit. For now, just focus on me, and remember that this magic is yours. It belongs to you. It can’t hurt you if you learn to welcome it.”

They sniffled, nodding slightly, still clinging to her hand as they tried to process her words. “What if… what if I can’t make it go away?”

She smiled, leaning down to kiss their forehead. “Then we’ll face it together, every step of the way. But I promise you, my darling, you’re much stronger than you think.”

Her words seemed to sink in, and slowly, they felt the storm inside begin to calm. The wild energy quieted, and the objects around them began to lower back to the ground—stones and branches settling softly, the droplets of water falling gently into the river.

Agatha watched with pride as they breathed deeply, steadying themselves, their small shoulders relaxing. She held their hands, guiding them through each breath, her warmth and strength steady and reassuring.

When the last of the chaos had faded, the child looked around, astonished by the stillness, the quiet. “I… I did it,” they whispered, a small, uncertain smile crossing their face.

Agatha’s heart swelled, and she pulled them close again, wrapping her arms around them. “You did, my brave one. I’m so proud of you.”

They hugged her tightly, letting out a shaky breath. “Thank you, Mama. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

Agatha held them close, her own eyes misting over as she kissed the top of their head. “You’re stronger than you know, my love. And I’ll always be here to help you understand your gifts, every step of the way.”

They stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, letting the warmth and safety of Agatha’s love settle over them. And as they began to walk back along the forest path, Agatha kept her arm around their shoulders, a smile on her lips as they talked about their newfound powers and the exciting journey that lay ahead. Together, they were ready to face whatever came next—mother and child, bound by a love that was as fierce and enduring as the magic within them.

===============================

A/n: Please leave a comment 💜 I wanna read your thoughts 💭 about this, it's only the beginning I made more interactions happen between Agatha and the reader

[puppetwoman17]

I wonder what the batfam's reactions would be if the joker escapes wherever they sent him to, finds Tim on patrol and was like "Long time no see JJ," and then going on about how he should come home with him back to arkham and he'll help him "recover" and are trying to get to Tim's location as fast as they can while listening in on comms?

This was actually a scenario I thought of the day I found out about JJ. I feel like after what happened, Tim would do the opposite of what Jason would and has done. Instead of going to find the Joker, he would stay as far away from him or even his goons as possible. It would be like the third Robin and the Joker had no history, nothing to tie them together(which probably made Jason angry at some point).

So when he breaks out of Arkham(AGAIN, jesus), Tim, Babs, and Bruce don’t waste a minute before bringing up that Tim has another case he has to work on that is of the “upmost importance”. It’s actually just a 12 year old homicide cold case that he solved a month ago but no one has to know that. Jim knows to sweep that under the rug when RR comes by with the same exact evidence he came with a month ago.

But Lady Luck has never been on Tim’s side. The rest of the bats quickly lose track of the Joker. Babs manages to find him, but by that point, it’s too late.

Joker finds him. And he recognizes him. Underneath the new name, costume, and styled hair, Joker finds his “son”.

As you can imagine, he’s over the moon. But he’s also just as angry.

“Junior! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t send out an email. What’s a pop got to do to get their son to notice them?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Not with that hair you’re not. Your skin’s not how I left it at all! And what happened to that beautiful smile of yours? Did the bat ruin that too?”

Tim doesn’t take jabs about his smile well. This is why. And it gets under his skin that even after using so much foundation and concealer, the Joker can still see the remnants of smile lines along his cheeks.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Junior. You know papa doesn’t like being ignored.“

“You’re not my dad.”

“Ha! Who is then? Certainly not the old bat. Anyhow, this isn’t about him. It’s been so long, kiddo. Why don’t we stop by the old warehouse and have a chat. Maybe even pick up Mama while we’re at it.”

“Harley would rather die than go with you, and I’m not following you anywhere. Batman already has your location.”

That brushes the smile off the freak’s face. The expression he has on now is sickly reminiscent of how he was when he, Tim, and Harley played family years ago. It’s not a look he gives to other people. No one else has seen it, so they might think Tim a liar. But he can’t deny the parental disappointment in the man’s eyes.

“I know they don’t know.”

Now that. That really gets to him.

“None of your business.”

“It it, but you’re welcome to deny it. I believe it’s just the old bat, the beat up cop, and Ms. Gordon, correct? Not even the first Robin! Ha! I wonder what the second bird would think. Not to mention the girls! Oh! And we can’t forget about little old Signal.”

Tim doesn’t need him to tell him. He’s gone over the scenario so many times it drives him mad. What each of them would say. What he could do to make them think differently. What he would have to do if they found out. Where he could run to. It never gets easier.

Joker is trying to scare him. That’s the only conclusion he definitively has. And aside from his general psychotic tendencies, he genuinely believes he and Tim are family.

By the time Batman arrives with the GCPD, the Joker is tied and ready for extraction. But the villain’s smile is no less fear-inducing.

“You know I’m right, my boy,” he says as he’s take into the back of a truck.

“They’ll never look at you the same way again.”

It’s only when everything is over that Tim takes the time to look over his gear that he finds his mistake. One that the Joker knew about. One that he exploited.

When he shut off the comms, he didn’t shut them off. In his delirium over his past, instead of closing them off, he muted them. While he couldn’t hear any of their chatter, they definitely heard his. And he didn’t send Babs his acceptance to shut his comms off, something she couldn’t do without express permission.

So when he unmuted the comms, you can only imagine what he heard.

[episodes-ff]

Touched

This a cute lil something something that I had playing out in my head for a few weeks now so I thought I’d put it into reality. Enjoyyyy!!!!

**SIX YEARS AGO**

Anaya

"Boyyyyyy, I am not doing all that!" I giggled over FaceTime as Terry begged for me to come with him to the club with his friends. It's been a month since Terry and I have started talking and one thing I've learned about him is he is very much persistent to get what he wants. We’ve been playfully going back and forth over the last hour because his cousin Mike is in town and he wants me to come out. “Come on, girl, we talk on the phone enough. I wanna see your pretty ass in person.” He smirked as he rid himself of his sweaty gym clothes. Eyeing his moist torso through the screen, I subconsciously bit my lip analyzing the sculpted details of his perfect body as my body flushed with heat.

"You know, Anaya, it's a little rude to stare." He husked smoothly causing me to scoff. "Boy whatever! I was not looking at your arrogant ass." I fussed making him laugh as I waved him off. "You haven't taken your eyes off me since we got on the phone, girl. Just admit you want me, Mamas." He flirted causing me to flip him the bird. "When?" "Never." "We'll see." He fought back as I rolled my eyes. "Imma have yo pretty ass." He mumbled under his breath while grabbing a water from his kitchen. "You said what?" "Nothing." "You know you talk a lot of shit?" "Why are you such a hater, Anaya?" "Why are you so annoying, Terry?" I countered as he bit his lip and shook his head at me deep in thought. "Come out with me. I'm not taking no either." Taking a gulp of water as he stared me down in the camera, my pussy subtly throbbed under the eye contact before I let out a deep groan. "Ugghhhhh fine! Damn!" "Now was it so hard to listen to Daddy?" "You are not my damn Daddy." "Not yet." He once again mumbled yet again thinking I hadn’t caught it. "Send the address and get off my phone." I fussed before he chuckled heartily and I hung up. Hearing a ping, I checked my texts to confirm before I got up to go find an outfit.

Taking in my appearance, I smiled doing a slow whine of my hips before taming any fly aways in my hair. Doing a final spin, I made sure Bash was well fed before securing my heels and purse before making my way downstairs to my awaiting Uber. Arriving to the club, I thanked my driver before hopping out and making my way up to the line. Standing and waiting, I texted Terry to let him know I had arrived before feeling a tap on my shoulder. Looking up I was met with a security guard. "Anaya?" "Ummmm, Yes." "Follow me." Smiling shyly as he opened the belt to let me out of line, I followed behind as the crowd groaned with having to wait. Walking inside the loud club, I got a bit of hype as the vibes and music engulfed me. Bodies collided hungrily on the dance floor while sections were lined with the cream of the crop.

Walking me over to a section, I spotted him amongst a group of guys looking as good as our first meeting. He looked so good, I could just take a bite out of him where he stood. Getting caught so deep in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed him walking over and standing in front of me until he snapped his fingers in my ear. "Huh?" "I was saying you finally made it. Damn, Mama, I know I'm handsome but I ain't know you would get lost in the sauce." He gloated laughing as I shot a sarcastic smirk at him. "Boy! You are not all that." "Shiiiit, I can be whatever you want me to be, baby." He breathed against my ear as he snaked his hand around my back to touch my waist. Feeling slightly flush in his hold, I cleared my throat before meeting his eyes as he bit his lip. "Ayeee, Tee! You not gone introduce us?" One of his friends questioned breaking us from our staring match. "My fault my fault. Y'all this is Anaya. Anaya, this is my cousin Mike and my homeboys, Brandon, Eric, Ace, and my homegirls Bree, Leah, and Asha." Introducing myself with a wave, I received a round of friendly hey's from the guys before feeling ravenous daggers coming from the girls as I noticed Bree staring down Terry. Internally rolling my eyes, I shrugged off their evil looks before gently smiling as Terry wrapped his hand around my waist.

Terry

Tonight was supposed to be a chill ass night with the guys, enjoying a few drinks, and getting to know Anaya better, but this shit been anything but. Ace bitch ass would invite Bree and her girls on some funny shit and their messy asses would convince her to come out. I don't even know why the hell she's so pressed anyway; we hooked up twice a few years ago and she decided we'd be better off staying friends. She's had boyfriends and all types of shit but the one time I bring a girl around that I care for, it's a problem. They been being so shady and rude to Naya all night and she hasn't been nothing but nice to em.

Watching her start twirling her hips in the section as the next song came on, I decided to get up and make my move. "C'mere." "What?" "Dance with me." I husked in her ear as the music blasted. Looking up at me and shyly nodding, I took her hand and lead her through the crowd to the dance floor. Pulling her up close to me, the beat vibrated through our bodies as she wound her waist against me and bit her lip. Bending forward, she twerked as the crowd got hype cheering her on. Holding onto her backside, I caught the rhythm as my homeboys held me up so she could take me for a ride. Hearing the DJ transition to the next song, she rose up and giggled as I smiled whipping her around to face me. "So you can dance, huh?" "Something like that. I see you can catch a lil rhythm too." "Something like that." I smiled pulling her closer and rubbing her body as we got carried away in the beat.

Feeling her fall forward, she turned around and eyed Leah as she sipped her drink. "Oh my gosh, girl. I am so sorry!" She muttered sarcastically as I mugged her. Waving her off, I turned Anaya back to me and whispered against her neck. "Ignore her." I commanded as I tilted her chin up to look at me. The electricity between us was crazy right now. I could almost feel it crackling off her lips. Leaning in to seize the moment, we were once again being bumped. "Yo what the fuck?!" "Really, Terry?! This how the fuck you gone do me after everything we shared?" Bree spat in anguish as her girls nodded in fake support. "Yo, Bree, back the fuck up away from me, aight? You tripping!" "No nigga, you tripping! I can't believe you throwing away what we have for this bitch!" "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING A BITCH, TRICK?!" Anaya seethed mushing Bree in the forehead as I stepped in to break them up. "What the fuck is your issue, bruh? We never had shit, never fucking will." "Oh really? So why were you in my fucking bed last night if we don't have shit?! Huh?" She spat flashing a devious smirk as Anaya threw her hands up and stormed off. "Anaya wait!" "No! Clearly you got your hands full already, I knew this shit was too good to be true." She murmured on the verge of tears as she snatched away from me and headed to the bar.

Anaya

Having a seat at the bar, I rolled my eyes and rubbed my temples as I waved for the bartender. Struggling to get his attention, I continued waving my hand before feeling a hand on my waist. "No need, lil mama, allow me. Aye, my man!" This guy said quickly getting the bartender over. "For the lady?" "Can I get two shots of tequila?" "I'll get the same and lemme get a whiskey sour." "Coming right up!" "Thank you." "No problem at all. I'm Rome, by the way." "Anaya." "That's a beautiful name, miss Anaya." He flashed his gleaming smile before kissing my hand gently. Blushing uncontrollably, I took one of my shots and took in his features. "Anaya, can we talk?" Terry said in a huff as he came up to me interrupting our moment. "We don't have anything to talk about Terry." "I'm serious, Anaya. I'm sorry for what happened back there with Bree. We had a very short lived fling a few years ago and that's all. I promise to you I haven't laid a finger on that girl since. I swear to God, Anaya. Please?" He pleaded staring me down with those eyes. Those goddamn eyes! "Terry, it is what it is. Go be happy with her. I don't wanna talk about this anymore." "But Anay-" "Umm, I believe she said the conversation is over with, my man." "My nigga, I'm not talking to you." "From the looks of it, neither is she." Rome interjected stepping between us as I looked on in shock. Not gonna lie it kinda turned me on...

Feeling Terry's glare burning into my soul, I swallowed the lump in my throat before looking up at him. Seeing the anger slowly brewing inside him, I knew he meant business and while I didn't know what either man was capable of, I could quickly tell that Terry wasn't with the games. "I-It's ok, Rome. I got this." I said touching his strong shoulder as I stood and took my last shot. "You sure you okay?" "Yes. Thank you so much for the drinks." I smiled gently before encasing him in a side hug. "No problem at all, lil mama. I'll see you around?" "Sure thing, let me get your number." Taking down his digits as Terry's foot twitched in agitation as I said my farewell. "If you need anything at all, give me a call." Rome whispered against my neck as I nodded. "Thank you again." I said before leaving in a rush as Terry pushed through the club to the exit.

"Can you slow the fuck down? Fuck!" I spat removing my heels so I wouldn't fall as he trekked quickly to his truck. "Hush, Anaya! Gone sit there and take that nigga number down in my fucking face. Out yo fucking mind." He ranted as I tensed at the harshness of his voice. "Get in the car." "Terry, where are you taking me." "Get the fuck in the mothafucking car, Anaya." Silently getting in, he slammed my door before getting in his side and locking the doors. What the fuck did I get myself into?

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It's so many more of y'all I can tag but my hands are cramping. I love you guys SOOOOOOO MUCH!!!! TYSM FOR THE CONTINUED LOVE AND SUPPORT! IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME YOU HAVE NO CLUE!!!

[a-fandom-reimagined]

< PREVIOUS PART

"Diana, you have exhausted valuable resources and the skills of our healers for one woman. To what end? She will die anyway. Maybe not today or tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now or ten but she will die. You're just delaying the inevitable."

Diana had few moments in her life where she could truthfully say she was angry with her mother. But in that moment she almost hated her. The Amazons were supposed to be messengers of peace and truth and justice. What happened to her mother while she was away? What happened to the fearsome woman who raised and taught her to stand for what was right? This wasn't the first time they'd had this argument and as your life hung in the balance, Diana doubted it would be the last.

You hadn't uttered more than a few sentences since arriving on the sandy shores of Themyscira and that was two weeks ago. You'd been in and out of consciousness every since. Never awake longer than a second or two and no one could tell Diana why. The healers had done all they could. The rest was up to you.

Diana gritted her teeth and rose from your bedside. "You and I are not having this conversation again, mama. Y/N is staying here until she wakes up. The healers will attend her for as long as she requires their attention and that is final. You gave me your word and you will stand by it."

"Perhaps I gave it too hastily."

Fire and hatred burned in Diana's eyes but the Queen of the Amazons did not--would not--falter. "I know you've formed something of an…attachment…to this girl--"

Diana laughed, tearfully. Attachment. What a paltry word to describe what she felt for you. This all-consuming yearning and devotion that kept her up nights and drove her to kneel at your bedside for hours with no regard to her own hunger and comfort. "Attachment," Diana repeated, laughing again.

"She is not like us, my daughter" the queen continued. "She is not like you--"

"She doesn't have to be! I don't need her to be like me. I don't need her to do anything but live, mama!"

"I do not mean to be cruel but if this is what her ailing has done to you…I don't want to know what would become of you if she perished."

Diana for the first time since coming home was inclined to agree with her mother. She opened her mouth to speak, some of her earlier anger dissipating, when a sharp breath stole away her words.

Diana whirled.

You rubbed sleep from your eyes, wincing as you struggled to get comfortable in the narrow cot on which you lay.

Diana stumbled to your bedside and fell to her knees.

You gave her a weak smile, bleary-eyed smile. Your hair was a bird's nest atop your head and yet to Diana, you'd never looked more beautiful.

You hit the ground hard not for the first time today.

"Dammit," you hissed.

Diana leaned into your line of sight with an apologetic smile. "Are you alright?"

"No I'm not alright!" you snapped. "A toddler could have blocked that kick and I just…I just," you screwed your eyes shut and breathed through the pain, the embarrassment, and frustration. "I'm not the same, D. My body…it's not the same."

She dropped to her knees and gently straddled your waist. Taking your face in her hands, she kissed your lids again and again until you opened them. "It's only been a week, my love. It could take months even years to remind your body of what your mind never forgot. Give it time."

It had been four months since you woke up in Themyscira's infirmary. Four long grueling months spent trying to remember how to walk and care for yourself. Fighting off pain and infection with strange herbs and medicinal techniques you'd never heard of and you were tired. So, so tired of being weak and fragile on an island surrounded by women who were the very definition of everything you used to be.

"But I don't want it to take months or years!" tears of frustration filled your eyes.

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice." Diana carefully rolled off of you and into the grass.

"Someone did this to me, Diana. I could have died."

"I know… And when you are well my love, we will find them and you will have your justice. But whether you like it or not it will take time. And if you will have me, I will be here with you. For every step of the way. And every step after that."

REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | GIF?

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I feel like cowboy has a background in crisis management or hostage negotiations, he’d be Quantico’s finest silver tongue. But maybe when he first arrived on the BAU team hotch seemed to doubt his abilities and wouldn’t give him the chance to prove he’s more than just a sharp shooter - maybe bc Strauss really pushed to have him put into the team in the first place so hotch is keeping cowboy at arms length

- 🦕

I'm aware this is slightly very unrealistic but ya know, it's fiction. I picture Jackson as a scared kid with a bad past

Also I didn't mean to post it so yeah hopefully it's okay lmao

Directly followed from this.

Warnings: guns, hostage negotiations, untrusting team

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @anonstories08

"Let me do this." You and the team had managed to track down the kid who was doing this, when the police had surrounded the diner, he had felt trapped and pulled out a weapon. You wanted to be the one who negotiated with him, who talked him down. You could relate to him.

All of this stemmed from a scared kid who had no one left. He was left to deal with everything on his own, left to deal with the death of his father, abandoned by the system with no justice, so he took it into his own hands.

"Why should I let you do this when I have Rossi here?"

"Because I understand the kid." You answer, "And I was damn good at my job which is why Strauss recommended me for the position,"

Hotch stares at you for a moment and you stare back, you weren't going to let him intimidate you. Or even think that he can intimidate you. He nods slightly and you turn to the phone.

"Jackson? You there?"

"I'm here."

"I'm Agent (L/N)," You introduced, "You can call me (Y/N). I'm here to make sure everything gets sorted out,"

"You don't care. They don't fucking care!" Jackson yells, "No one fucking cares! No one cares that he's dead! No one cares that someone killed him! No one cares!"

"Hey, we care. That's why we're here, ain't it?"

"No, you're here so I don't go down in a rain of bullets."

"I hate to break it to you kid, that's not why I'm here." You answered, "It might be why the others are here, I'm here to make sure you don't do somethin' stupid. Somethin' you're gonna regret for years."

"You don't fucking get it!" Jackson shouts over the phone.

"Hey, hey, I get it," You kept your voice understanding, "It's tough, losin' someone you love."

"Yeah, and what would you know?"

"I- I lost my Mama at an early age, my biological Mama," You said, your voice crackling over the phone. "Everyone thought I was too young to understand, too young to remember, like twelve year olds can't think for 'emselves, y'know? N I remember bein' so angry that no one even thought to just sit me down and talk. And that's why I'm here, Jackson, I'm here to talk, to help."

"If you want to help, come inside. If you come inside, I'll let everyone go. I'll talk with you. But no one else. No one else sets foot in this building." Jackson paused for breath, "And no guns."

You nod, "Okay. That's just fine, we'll do that." As soon as your hand is off the button, Hotch is shaking his head.

"No."

"Sir, I get it, I'm the new guy, but I know what I'm doin'." You said strongly. "Just let me prove myself."

Hotch studied you for a moment before nodding. "You have five minutes."

"Thank you, sir," With that, you placed your gun in Hotch’s hand before making your way into the building (after they fit a wire).

When you get in, the hostages run out. At the very least you would be the only casualty if this went south.

"Hey kid," You said softly, sliding in one of the booths, Jackson hesitantly sat opposite you, his gun firmly aimed at you.

"This has to be some kind of trick."

"I want to help you."

"Do you have a wire?"

"Yes." You answer honestly, Jackson looks at you for a moment before nodding.

"You weren't supposed to tell me that, was you?"

You shook your head, "Nope." You answered, "But I did - for two reasons, I need you to feel like you trust me - and that requires my honesty - and I honestly think at this rate I might get fired, so it don't matter all that much anyway."

"That's ballsy," Jackson commented and you gave a small laugh.

"N what? Bein' an FBI agent isn't?"

Jackson laughed before sobering up, "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Because you're a kid." You shrugged, "You've had it tough, but if you work hard, and face the consequences of your actions, you can come out the other end of this better."

"How? Everyone already treats me like I'm some lowlife. How can I possibly change that if no one is willing to give me a chance?"

"I'm willin' to give you a chance. I'm willin' to help." You said, "All you need to do to show me that you're willin' to change is to give me the gun n walk out there with me n show me that you're willin' to put in the time."

Jackson studies you for a moment before he nods, placing the gun on the table and sliding it towards you. You take it, emptying it of bullets - placing the gun in one pocket and the bullets in another. "Okay." He whispers softly. "I want to change. I want to be better."

"Then that's all that matters kid, fuck everyone else." You said, "Come on, let's go set things right, yeah?"

"Yeah... Okay..." He says hesitantly as he stands from the booth.

"Facin' the consequences of your actions are never easy," You said as you also stood, "But it's how you react to realisin' you made a mistake that determines the type of person you are."

Jackson nods, squaring his shoulders before leading the way out of the building with his hands raised. You give him a nod of encouragement as he gets into the police car.

You turn to Hotch, "Sorted." You answer before climbing into the SUV.

"He's good, I'll give him that..." Rossi mumbles before joining you in the car. "Good job, Kid."

"Thanks."

[luvneymar]

(3) THE BIRDS AND THE BEES — NEYMAR JR

SUMMARY: You and Neymar have to explain how babies are made to Davi, after the conversation you both reminisces about how your baby girl got here.

“Mommy I have a question.” Davi asked in a quiet voice. Davi has been weird all day asking you things just to say “nevermind” before a chance to express himself.

“Yes baby? You’ve been weird all day. Is there anything going on?” You asked him with a worried look on your face

“Uh, How did you get Valentina inside your belly? Did you swallow her?” Davi asked with an innocent smile. You smiled back at him so hard as you tried not to choke on your own spit. Neymar had been away for training today so it was just you and him.

“Huh, Okay. Uh Davi? Why don’t we wait till papa is here so we can explain it together?” You needed time to find an excuse that wasn’t to far from the truth, age appropriate & kid-friendly all in… 30 minutes, glancing at your watch.

“Okay!” As davi ran off to play with his toys you picked at your fingernails walking back and forth wondering how you could make Neymar fucking you into a sex coma as PG as possible.

As the clock ticked the less your braincells produced ideas. Figuring that calling Ney and telling him the situation before he arrived home would be the best idea.

The moment you reached to dial his number the front door had opened and Neymar had walked in. Oh Thank God. “Boa noite, família!” [Good Evening family!] Neymar placed his duffle bad in the hallways and plopped himself on to the couch.

Pulling you onto his lap sitting sideways he pulled you in for a kiss before calling out to his son. “Davi! I’m home!” He yelled out caressing your sore back. Ever since the pregnancy began he’s notice how tense you got in your back and shoulders and made it a mission to ease that tension almost every day.

The pitter patter of Davi’s small feet hit the floorboards as he came running to his dad and mom. “Hi daddy!” Neymar pulled him onto his other thigh and wrapped his hands around the both of you. “Mama can you and daddy pleasee answer my question?”

Neymar looked at you in confusion and whispered into your ear with a raspy voice. “what question?” You got shivers down your spine just thinking about what the outcome was when he last used that voice on you.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself Davi?” You tried as hard as you could to ignore any time of hormones that would arise while thinking about this topic let alone explaining it. Stupid pregnancy brain.

“Daddy I asked mama, How did she get Valentina inside her belly? Did she like swallow her?” Davi asked with an unsure voice hoping his baby sister wasn’t swallowed to be convinced.

Upon hearing that Neymar tried so hard not to laugh but hearing the last part made him burst out into a fit of laughter. You smacked him in his shoulder multiple times unable to control the smile on your face.

“Valentina was made when mommy and daddy were out and mommy had to many shots of tequila, soon after that mommy took off-.”

You elbowed him in the side and sent a nasty glare his way making sure he got the message as to not give 4 year old Davi the details about how your babygirl was conceived. “Sorry Sorry, Valentina was made when mommy and daddy were playing a game called horsey.”

“Oh, Can I play?” Davi asked innocently, You almost choked on your spit before shaking your head multiple times at Davi. “Oh no,no,no Davi baby you can’t, it’s for… Older people. Like me and daddy!”

“aww, are you sure I can’t play?” Davi pouts and looks up at you both with his big brown eyes. “I’m sure Davi.” Your short and firm answer made Davi drop the topic all together.

“Okay fine, bye mommy, bye daddy.” He ran off to play with his toys leaving you and Neymar alone in the common room. You turned to look at him just admiring his facial features.

“Something on my face princesa?” Neymar asks before turning to look at you. Shaking your head and scooting closer you put your head on his shoulder and drew circles around his abs.

“Are you trying to tempt me?”

“Maybe, Maybe not. The actual question here is… If I do, what are you gonna do about it?”

Neymar turned his head and poked his tongue at his cheek with a cocky look on his face. “The last time we went through this you ended up with Valentina. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Actually…No!” You get up and run towards the hallway with Neymar not being that far behind you. Turning the corner was the guest bathroom and you ran into it barely closing the door on Neymar’s face.

“Open the door princesaa! Lemme in. I promise I won’t do anything.”

“Yes you will! You’re gonna kiss me, then touch my boobs, then it’ll lead to very bad things, so no!” You yell out in a playful manner tempting Neymar to think of dirty things.

“But you have amazing boobs.” Neymar stated using the voice of an intellectual. You couldn’t help but laugh at the voice he used explains how boobs are the greatest creation.

“Don’t tempt me Mr. Santos, you just wanna get in my pants. The doctor did say that sex this late into a pregnancy is just begging for pre-term labor.”

“I’m not! I promise I will never do anything to harm our precious Vale.” He placed his hand on his heart hoping you’d be convinced. You opened the door just enough to see his face before slowly opening the door and letting him in.

“Thank you princesa. I you know I could never be kept from you too long. I’d go insane.” He kissed your forehead before placing his forehead on yours & placing his hands on your waist sliding it down to your hips.

He dipped his hand into your underwear waistband snapping it against your pelvis. “HEY!” you shouted pulling away. “way to ruin the mood.” you pinched his side and walked away to sit on the edge of the bathroom.

“Sorry.” He muttered before following you sitting on the carpet below you. You caressed your pregnant belly soothing your baby. You took neymar’s hand and placed it on your stomach so he can feel his baby kick.

“Valentina is gonna be here soon isnt she?” He continued caressing your stomach feeling her movement and you smiled softly. He’s been so good with Davi even as a teen dad. It felt like yesterday when you gave birth to Davi as a teen mom dating your first love; an universal superstar.

“2 months left till she’s here. You know it felt like yesterday that you and I were just freaking out about being teen parents.” You confessed, that was a point in your life that was both traumatic & joyful.

“Yeah, seeing Davi for the first time just made all my doubts go away about being a teen dad” You smiled at the memory of seeing your baby boy for the first time and that sense of relief just washing over you.

You both sat in silence just enjoying each other’s presence. “You still tryna get into my pants?” You look down at him with a glare smacking his hand away that that tempted to ease into your underwear.

“Just had to see if that was still an option.” He laughed and stuck his tongue out with a cheeky grin. “Well it isn’t.” You pouted, standing up from the edge of the bathtub you begun to walk to the mirror and stared at yourself.

Neymar was right behind you stopping right behind you, he kissed your neck and looked at you through the mirror gripping your hips.“Once my last season at Santos is over, i’m gonna make you my Mrs. Santos. I promise.”

“Mmh, Really? You promise?”

“Really, I promise” He turned you around and kissed your lips gripping the side of your face, he pulled away leaving little room between your face. “Are you gonnna kiss me like that at our wedding?”

“Nope.” He smirks with a proud look on his face.

“Nope?” You raised your eyebrows at him putting your hands on your hips.

“No. Because if I do we’ll just end up fucking like rabbits at the alter.” You both looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. As you laughed you took in what he said and stopped laughing.

“Alter? Who said we’re getting married an alter?” You asked with confusion, the place of your wedding was always important to you even since you were a little girl. You always imagined it be at at a [place] or at a [religious building]

“what?” Neymar looked at you with a surprised face as you did the same. It’s funny because 5 minutes before you both were making marriage plans and now it seemed as if you didn’t know the man you were standing in-front of anymore.

← prev [ neymarsluv! ] next →

[balsamfir-fics]

a hope redefined (part 2)

Genres: angst, post S1 canon, more angst, romance, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of), dad!vik, political tensions, growing up, the human condition, some fluff

Pairing: Viktor/AFAB Reader

Warnings: series will have eventual smut, mentions of difficult pregnancy/injury/civil war. this prelude mentions spicy activities. she/her pronouns, but no use of YN.

Summary: Viktor shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t have survived the blast of the Council attack, and even if he did his sands of time should have soon run out. And yet here he stands, part man and part machine, in a future he never planned for and an augmented body he never expected to have.

With no template to follow, Viktor forges a new path towards happiness as he grapples with reconciling the man he once was and the man he could become. Complicated as this path may be, he knows better than to waste an opportunity to spend his remaining years with you, the person he’s kept in his heart ever since you were children. Amidst the chaos of an antebellum Runeterra, Viktor finds his freedom, his future, and his family -- retelling these events through vignettes and letters to his daughter.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2

Chapter Word Count: ~6.2k

Author Notes: Unedited. Threequel and final part to a hope never forgotten and a hope at risk. This can be read independently of its predecessors, though reading those first will better contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship.

Little bird, my Robin,

I’m not sure if you quite understand what a charming little one you are. I admit your burbling is beyond my comprehension despite my best efforts, but even when you are cranky and tired and screaming at us at the top of your miniature lungs, I somehow manage to find you so precious. (Though, of course, your mother and I fervently long for the days when you will allow us to sleep; I have never known this depth of frustration and I was known, before you arrived, for terrible sleep schedules).

Mama and I, we have had quite the story. I’ll tell you about it one day when you’re better able to understand what I’m saying to you, but for now I want to get into the practice of writing you letters in the same way she had written and saved many for me. I will, of course, be much better than your mother at communicating the contents and intents of each letter to you in real-time, so that you grow up only knowing love and never knowing loss. For now, I write this first letter to you. You’ll learn about the things I will tell you later on again, in history books perhaps or in your studies. But it might be interesting for you to learn about them directly from me, as well, so that you may learn about how the things in history-books tend to have real impact for real people.  

Robins are cheerful little birds, signs of hope and promise after seasons of strife. You, my dear, were born in a particularly difficult season, one that Mama and I continue to live in now. To best explain the story of how you came to us despite all the odds, I suppose I should start at the very beginning.

Now that I think about how I’d like to begin describing these events to you, it strikes me that I’ll likely only give these letters to you when you come of age and maturity; I don’t think these are topics that you should learn when you first become reasonably literate. We will store these in a safe place for you, so that the pages are fresh and strong when you first look upon them; rather than crumbly, yellowed, and strained. 

I digress. Where was I? Ah, yes.

It starts, my Robin, with a disaster that builds into tragedy. In the midst of it all, I was blissfully unaware of what transpired; Mama bears the brunt of the emotional fallout from this time so you must always be respectful to her, because I unfortunately had been quite rude to her in the immediate aftermath of this disaster. I’ve been atoning it for it this whole time, my dear, but I do have a secret: I think you are a large part of my absolution, especially because whenever Mama is irritated with me these days she tends to look at you, see how much you look like me, and is a little less grumpy after basking in your company. Let’s keep it that way, little Robin.

(I fear that your feeding schedule and its interruptions to my rest have left my thoughts unsorted, I apologize for the side-tracks.)

When your teachers tell you about the attack on the council, take care to consider the events beyond words on a page or facts to memorize for a test. We have all been impacted by it, and you are here in part as a result of the things that happened that day. 

It was a tense time. I… was in very poor health, and near the very end of my tether to this mortal plane. Nevertheless, I came to the Council with your Uncle Jayce (who, at them time, was beginning to feel like a stranger to me despite our years of partnership), because he and I wanted peace in a world that seemed to disagree. Imagine! Me, a frail and deteriorating Zaunite, crushing myself under immense guilt, and Uncle Jayce, strong in body and conviction but wavering under the pressures of entire societies. But we were doing what we thought was right; Uncle Jayce had made choices I never thought he would make and we both were seeking the abundant optimism and encouragement we wanted to bring to the world through our research in our younger days.

I’m not sure what they’ll teach you about Jinx. It depends on how the future shapes itself. I’m inclined to think that we are all complex beings that are subjected to chaos both inside us and around us, and even choices we are confident in may have the ability to grow into monstrosities we never anticipated. That happened to your uncle and I; I believe this, too, happened for Jinx.

I’ll spare you the details that you will no doubt learn in school. It was a missile attack, and the outcome was devastating. This was especially so since in those fleeting moments after I spoke to the Council and relayed Jayce’ plans, he and I were filled with that hope we were once so aflame with (and this hope, Robin, was in spite of the anger we incited instantly amongst the Councilmembers). It was radiant, my darling, with the bright light reflecting the explosive aspiration we held in our hearts. As you will know later, of course, everything broke mere heartbeats later. 

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The first thing Jayce noticed was shrill, all-encompassing ringing in his ears. He tried to brush it away with his mind, but his body did not obey this command. Then in a panic he realized he noticed nothing in sight; merely black and grey and clouds billowing. His heart seized; where had he been last?

Finally the picture before him came into focus, in streaks of visibility between billowing, noxious clouds.

The other sensations followed quickly after, assaulting his nervous system with acrid stinging in his lungs, shocks of pain in his body, and the increasing awareness of other sounds beyond the internal ringing. What were those? They were screams of anguish, of pain, and of terror.

As he tried to physically orient himself, Jayce realized he was not where he had been before. Wasn’t he standing? He’d purposely put himself between Viktor and the Council, if only to metaphorically shield his dying friend from the brunt of the Council’s fury. Where was Viktor? Where was —

Mel. Mel! Jayce scrambled to his feet, a feat that took nearly a minute in the confusion but felt like milliseconds. His mind quickly began to sort events into a timeline; he vaguely understood this to be a fight-response, a survival tactic in disaster. There must have been an explosion, judging by the jagged edges of curled steel and broken glass he could see in pockets of clear air. If there was an explosion, it was from outside, given the direction of debris and decay. If it was from outside — Jayce shuddered, all the while staggering forward towards where the window once hang — then Mel had been the first to be hit.

He found her after tripping over objects that should not have lined his path; objects that were pieces of the ornate Council desks, shards of glass, gnarled metal, and also people. He screamed her name, maybe, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. She was slumped over a section of broken desk at an awkward angle, but to Jayce’ relief she appeared whole, if not unconscious and likely severely injured. It was impossible, really, based on what he knew about ballistics and explosives and physics, but he would receive any miracles that the gods would allow. He thought to shake her, but managed to remember that this would be unwise — she might have internal injuries — but he checked for a pulse. With confirmation that she was, in fact alive, he yelled for a medic, before realizing his voice was not the only one doing so. Instead, Jayce then set his jaw and glanced frantically around the room.

The dichotomy between Mel’s relative lack of being harmed and the rest of the room was jarring; the hall was completely unrecognizable and nearly everyone in it had been sent far from their original seats. Then Jayce noticed an odd pattern in the path of destruction; the people closer to the window and the main circle of desks seemed reasonably intact, but the building and furniture in that same radius was most certainly not. Attendants and assistants, most of whom had been standing near the periphery and the elevators, seemed to be in much worse shape (Jayce found his stomach rising in his throat at the sight he saw, but stepped away in time to vomit further away from Mel’s unconscious form); but architectural structures there only saw streaks of soot and flame and far less impact.

A wavering light caught his eye, but he couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just the reflection of flickering fire or something emanating from the golden patterns on Mel’s back. He ignored this, instead lifting Mel’s body onto his shoulders with as little disturbance as possible. Jayce brought her past the elevators, past the carnage and into an unaffected corridor deeper in the building. He lay her to rest by the wall, whispering for her to stay alive even if she couldn’t hear him, then stumbled back into the fray.

Viktor. He had to find Viktor; no matter what miraculous defense Jayce suspected Mel had mounted, Viktor had already been on the precipice of death.

Jayce first spotted the mangled remains of Viktor’s crutch; scanning that area, he found his friend crumpled beside debris. He quickly took stock of the smaller man’s injuries, wincing at what he recognized as serious impalement, but found Viktor’s condition reasonably safe enough to move out of the chaos. With Viktor’s impossibly thin frame in his arms (and taking care not to jostle the debris embedded into his friend’s body), Jayce struggled back to the corridor. Flashes of the terror around him seared themselves into his mind that night; he later remembered Councilwoman Kiramman lying beneath a frighteningly large panel of destroyed stone, or pieces of Bolbok lying far away from the Councilman’s main frame, but he focused on getting Viktor to safety before returning to assist other less-injured people with rescue.

He rode in Mel’s ambulance, of course, in part because Heimerdinger had materialized shortly after the blast to watch over Viktor. The rest of the evening came only in fragmented blurs; Jayce suspected a concussion, but considered himself to be lucky if that was the only injury he would get away with. He kept Mel’s hand in his and made it a point to be grateful for the fact that it was still warm.  

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The peace we called for was obviously fractious. We hadn’t known then that Silco was no more and that Jinx was behind the attack. Rather, I knew nothing. I only came to later, then promptly entered the darkest fury of my life as I only knew that I’d been betrayed by Jayce through your mother’s assistance. This, in hindsight, I regret, but nevertheless there will always be a part of me that wonders what might have happened if the Hexcore had been destroyed completely — and a part of me that secretly longs for that alternate universe to the suffering so many have endured since then.

Of course, I am now mostly grateful for that ‘terrible decision.’ My mixed feelings do not negate the very real truth that I can be your father today because I was saved by your mother and Jayce. I have decided to not let this gratitude go to waste, but it shall forever be a cautionary tale for others. 

In those first few weeks, Zaunites and Piltovans fought fiercely, though in smaller, renegade groups. We were all fearful that either side would escalate into all-out civil war. It was a very real risk, back then. With nobody sure who started what, and families vengeful for their own fallen, any slight overreaction could have blown up the whole powder keg. We hadn’t known that there were greater threats beyond, but we could only see what was in front of us, what was local. And yet we couldn’t remember, for some reason, the shared origins of our two cities. We only saw the differences and the hurt.

Many people made bad decisions then. In fact, I was quite worried about those that your Uncle Jayce might make with his power and influence. We are lucky he’d chosen to attempt peace before the attack, because even if Jayce struggles to find the right answer, he does, fortunately, try his best. It’d been his decision to offer Silco what he wanted, and in those early weeks, Uncle Jayce tried to hold to that as much as he could even in the face of dissenters. I imagine he was still reeling from his own sins, and trying to hold onto his own hope — or better yet trying to emulate Auntie Mel’s measured stances. Regardless, we had a fragile stability despite many citizens entering into altercations. Or should I say that the ups and downs averaged out to something more even? It seemed that every other weekend we were promised a war between the two cities, and there were many weeks where we came very close. I think it is a miracle that the many battles fought didn’t tip over into much longer, formalized conflict; at least, between our two cities. We knew it would not hold for long, however, and when your Auntie Caitlyn’s mother finally succumbed to her injuries a few weeks later, we were incredibly concerned. 

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You couldn’t recognize the woman before you. What happened to the little sister figure who you’d watched grow up? Where was the fierce, intelligent girl who (like you) sought to break free of the shackles of upper-class decorum and instead work for a better future? No, the person staring back at you from the printed posters around Piltover was someone hardened by loss. It was someone who cut their teeth on the blades of their own hurt, and used their pain to fuel their development.

Caitlin had always been a serious markswoman, but you would never have expected her to rise in the ranks so quickly. How much if her meteoric rise had been due to the absence of her mother’s influence, or her own dogged pursuit of power, you’d never know. She was too young to be a sheriff, you thought. Not because she was immature but rather because she should have had more time to enjoy her twenties. You supposed that there were much smaller spaces for leisure and entertainment in those times; though most life went on as a hushed normal at the surface, the simmering resentments and fears underneath were never far from mind.

While the cities had not yet sought the other’s total destruction, festivals and the like had been cancelled for safety concerns. Fewer people wandered in the streets without company, especially after dark, but people still needed to eat and to sleep and to live, so children likely hadn’t noticed the suspicion and concern in adults’ eyes.

You glanced to Caitlyn’s right, surveying her personal hire to her investigation team. Through your father, you’d heard more about this Violet — or Vi, though you’d never met her. You tried to ask Jayce more about what had happened in the weeks leading up to the Council attack, but he’d been tight-lipped and more concerned with preventing societal collapse. It wasn’t possible to blame him, however. Mel was still comatose, though stable, and you knew Jayce was trying to keep Piltovan warmongers at bay while tamping down his own grief and rage. He slipped every so often, particularly if it’d been a bad day and he’d come back from visiting Mel’s bedside. With Viktor long gone to sequester himself away in Zaun, you took it upon yourself to remind Jayce that the previous undercity was not a monolithic hotbed of crime and terrorism. Heimerdinger tried as well, but he, too, disappeared frequently — and you suspected he had gone down into the depths in his own efforts to rebuild peace.

He certainly had no time to tell you about a former prisoner he’d made a tenuous ally of, much less one that appeared to be the sister of the attack’s primary suspect. You squinted at the poster again, frowning in reflection of Violet’s own conflicted expression. Your gaze flicked back to Caitlyn’s hardened gaze, and you realized that both young ladies were wrought with their own grief. In Caitlyn, you saw the tortured guilt of someone who’d long argued with her mother and now broke under her father’s mourning. In Vi, you saw a clearly uncomfortable Zaunite looking for any opportunity to find the remnants of the little sister she once knew, forced to join the Piltovans who had tried to subjugate her. At least, that was the best you could come up with given the shreds of information you knew on this new Caitlin and this stranger Vi.

You had no immediate sympathy for the woman named Jinx, especially not within the first few weeks after the attack when you discovered Viktor’s dance with death and he lay, unconscious and severely injured, in his hospital bed. But your rage needed somewhere to go, and since you were by no means a fighter, you channeled your anguish into providing aid directly. It was just as well; wealth Piltovans were not in any mood for philanthropic deeds, especially if any mention of Zaun was involved — thus you had little fundraising to do. You stayed local in those weeks, helping the poorer Piltovans who might have been targeted in smaller skirmishes, if only to stay close enough for any news of Viktor’s recovery.

You hadn’t expected the extent of his anger when he regained consciousness, but you’d been equally as furious that he’d hidden his prognosis from you until he was finally on death’s door. Viktor directed most of his fury towards Jayce, who knew the risks involved and the threat the Hexcore posed, but you were still surprised when he decided to move out of Piltover and into the new Zaun in the middle of this odd detente.

On worse days, you blamed the mysterious Jinx for your woes, but over time — and as Viktor’s mood began to thaw — you learned more about her through Jayce’ intel grapevine. Now glancing again at Vi’s tortured expression in a fading Piltovan sunset, you considered the splintering of their sisterhood and recognize the heartbreak in that uncomfortable gaze. Could those two (and their team) accomplish what they set out for? You weren’t quite sure. Jayce insinuated that there was a relationship between the two Enforcers, but you worried that the overlap between their investigatory objectives might wear thin. You wrote to Viktor in his absence, relaying your thoughts, but he’d only given inscrutable references to a former mentor of his who he suspected of being involved with Jinx.

Lost in thought on the steps of city center, you didn’t notice when your adoptive father pulls up beside you. Heimerdinger patted your hand, leading you to jump back in shock, but once you realized who it was and settled your nerves, you picked up on the weariness in his face.

"She’s likely a bright young woman,” he sighed, shaking his head in sorrow. “Her sister, I mean.”

You balked at that. “You’ve met Jinx?”

“No,” Heimerdinger replied. “Prior associates, perhaps, but not her. I—“ He paused. “I remember when our two cities were one, and I’ve watched brilliant young minds in both triumph and fail under the circumstances they never asked for.” His expression grew long at that, and you realized he was thinking of Viktor’s own time under his care.

Your wounds still raw, you bristled. Your father knew about Viktor’s death sentence and failing health, and yet he never deigned to clue you in. He’d given you excuses that he was under Viktor’s instructions, but that hadn’t mattered to you. It shouldn’t have mattered to him, and you felt betrayed by your father’s discretion. He seemed to understand where your thoughts drifted, and remained silent for a few beats more.

“My dear,” Heimerdinger tentatively began again. “I am gravely concerned. There are more threats than those from between our two peoples.” He took your hand in his, patting yours gently. “There are those who would take advantage of our strife to bring both our cities to their knees.”

You told him he was being cryptic, and started for the gates of the Heimerdinger Estate. But his words remained in your mind, always at the edge of your uncertainty and concern, and it would not be till much later that the premonition he anticipated would come true. 

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But never mind all that; by the time you read these letters I hope we will be living in a vibrant, thriving world and not one besieged by war. Thus I turn to the silver linings from that period.

I angered your mother very much when I left for Emberflit Alley. I don’t know if we’ll be living there, or at your grandfather’s estate, or somewhere in between, but I hope that by the time you see this you will have been to my little laboratory in the Entresol. I have many fond and not-so-fond memories there, but all the unkind memories are long in the past now that you are in my world and my heart. Your mama visited me as soon as I allowed her to. I recall that reunion with great clarity; it was a very exciting few days back in each others arms, but after the excitement faded away we were still left to grapple with my guilt, her hurt, and an uncertain future. I sent her away several times after that, and moodily so, so if you end up rather impetuous I might be to blame for that part of your personality (though Mama is as well). Still, we’d been apart for so many years that we couldn’t help but keep gravitating back to each other even when we tried to stay away for safety, self-healing, and individual growth. Your mother says she wanted to have you as early as then, but I was in no shape for that.

You see, the reason I’m alive today is because of a peculiar technology and the greatest sin of my life. You’ll likely have seen one of my Hexcores by the time you read this, but the one I’m referring to was the first — and it was corrupted. I carry deep grief as a result of my stubbornness with that Hexcore specifically, and thus I promise to teach you everything I have learned from my mistakes so that you will never have to experience them.

With this one, something was gravely wrong. We hadn’t known that at the time, your Uncle Jayce and I, and it is only in retrospect that we know about the Void and its corruption of this specific Hexcore. Your papa was very foolish back then, little Robin, but I was also quite desperate. This Hexcore wanted to control me, to use me as its vessel, but at first I’d only seen it as a gift. I realized later that it must be destroyed; I asked your Uncle Jayce to do so but after that disaster — that tragedy — your mother asked him to use it to save me. And so he did.

It became a part of me then, a part of my survival and part of my story. But it couldn’t stay; I knew that it would consume me and then I wouldn’t be the papa you will get to know. I learned many things in those months, because I worked hard to figure out a way to stay alive but be rid of that corrupted Hexcore. That’s where I learned to be a surgeon of sorts, and I studied feverishly to find a way out of my predicament. I also continued with engineering, just like your Uncle Jayce, and through the technology we developed I made Blitzcrank what he is. In Emberflit Alley, I built a great many things to help our fellow Zaunites; some things to clean the air more affordably, other things to make work easier for weak bodies, and more to bring prosperity to those who had little of it. Some of Uncle Jayce’ Piltovan colleagues were not pleased about this, and even some Zaunites (who, you should never ever interact with, little one — stay far away from chembarons and their people, even if they are your fellow citizens) truly disliked my work.

All of this progress, however, was not enough to ease my concerns over the Hexcore. Yes, living conditions improved for others, but I never felt safe with that first corrupted prototype. And if I wanted a future — a real one, not just borrowed time — then I needed to be in control of it myself. So with great effort I replaced the void-touched parts with mechanical ones I built myself. That may sound scary, but living with the Void was much more frightening and I couldn’t bear with myself if it endangered your mother in any way. Besides, if you saw those parts you’d laugh; they were clunky and ugly, but by now they’re much improved.

You may have been told a number of things about that time period. Not everything you’ll hear will be the truth, from either your Piltovan or Zaunite friends and teachers. Remember that you are always welcome to ask me or your mother, and we will carefully tell you the truth we witnessed with our own eyes.

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Viktor was backed into a corner. What madness was this? The little Kiramman girl, emerging from the shadows with a hard look etched into the lines of her face, seeking to take him in?

He figured her investigation had turned up his name; Heimerdinger kept Viktor appraised of the topside Enforcers’ campaign against this Jinx, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before the new sheriff in town connected the man called Singed to both himself and the blue-haired fugitive. It was odd, though, as it had been Caitlyn herself who had provided Jayce and you with a small vial of Shimmer when he stood with one foot through Death’s Door. She would have known about his involvement and his research and how benign it must be, but why would she have been looking for him now of all times, weeks after her campaign was well underway, and weeks after Viktor had sequestered himself in the Entresol with his golem, his tools, and his loneliness?  If anything, Viktor was grateful he’d made it a point to send you back topside when Emberflit Alley became suspiciously quiet. Having you by his side in this specific moment would have been disastrous.

As he surveyed the look in Caitlyn Kiramman’s eye, he knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to put the members of her own circle under surveillance if it would help move along her objectives.  He glanced to his peripherals, noting several cloaked Enforcers circling towards him at the end of the alley. Not ideal, but he would be damned if he was taken in on nothing more than a paranoid suspicion. Now was not the time to be separated from his work in Zaun; with a dogged sheriff on the chembarons’ tails, the innocent civilians of Zaun needed medical assistance without strings attached more than ever.

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” he warned, fingers tightening around the latest prototype of his Hexcore-powered staff. (‘It’s a deterrent, not a weapon,’ he’d told you when you first saw it. But he was decreasingly convicted in his own definition; whatever deterrent effect he’d hoped the Hexcore would have seemed not to be working as intended. “I am no traitor, and you of all people should know that.”

“Forgive my inability to take your words at face value,” Caitlyn replied steadily. Her finger remained on her rifle’s trigger; eyes still squinting through the scope. “First you run from Piltover, then I learn you’re one of her—“ The sneer in her voice made apparent to whom she was referring. “—known associates? You’ll need to come with me, Viktor, if you want any semblance of a topside future with Heimerdinger’s daughter.”

He flared up at that; how dare anyone threaten the fragile hope he held onto for decades?! His emotions ran wild and angry, and the Hexcore — damn, he hadn’t yet managed to completely purge his biomechanical connection to it still — responded with its own flicker of crackling energy. Viktor sensed the whole alley tensing at the sensation, and he knew then that there would be no saving his insistence that the Hexcore wasn’t a weapon of destruction.

“I fail to see how I might be a known associate if I’ve never met Jinx,” he replied. It took every bit of his personal pride to keep his temper stable. “So without reasonable suspicion, I believe I will not be joining you.” Movement to his left caught his eye. “And I wouldn’t take another step closer, if I were you,” he warned the Enforcer.

“I have no time to dance, Viktor,” spat Caitlyn. “Lower your staff, now!”

Viktor remained where he stood, amber eyes glaring out at her from beneath the dark fabric of his hood. He kept silent, attuning his senses to the several Enforcers eyeing him warily with weapons raised. He wouldn’t hurt them, not first, and not unless it was a last resort. What he feared was being backed into his final corner.

Caitlyn began to pull on the trigger, a minute movement that Viktor noticed through instinct alone.

So be it. He couldn’t be taken; people needed help and protection, not only from criminals within Zaun but from unwarranted topside aggression. He couldn’t be taken; he needed to continue his work on severing his physical connection to that angry, disturbing Hexcore — months imprisoned would impede any hopes of progress. He couldn’t be taken; his arrest, no matter how unjustified, would irreparably damage Heimerdinger and your reputations by association alone, and he’d worked too hard to let his family, topside or not, be taken from him.

When the Enforcers nearest him lunged, Viktor exhaled, closed his eyes, and allowed the Hexcore to release a burst of pure, radiant energy. Then he ran, ignoring the cries of surprise and fear and squinting past the blinding light he’d unleashed on his adversaries. He bounded past Blitzcrank’s hiding place towards the opening of the alley, beckoned along his golem, and darted into the nearby safe house he’d kept anonymously registered for this purpose.

You’d hear about this, certainly. But Viktor hoped that your faith in him would help you see past the propaganda and widespread fear, and trust in his character. It was a weak hope in fraught times as these, but Viktor hoped nonetheless. 

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Once I was confident that the void was gone from the Hexcore and it could be developed in complete safety, I let Mama stay with me for good, and I stopped pushing her away. She was much happier about that, but we were mostly relieved that I could stay alive, healthy, and strong without the corrupted core. Lots of things happened before then, many difficult things, but I was very happy to be safe for Mama eventually.

Even so, our relief was short-lived. The fragile peace we had was broken by external threats, and many bad things began to happen to everyone in Valoran. These problems are not yet fully resolved, I’m afraid, but everyone in your life is now committed to fixing them for the betterment of your future.

In the midst of the sheriff looking for me and everything being quite scary for the regular people in both our cities, Auntie Mel’s mother was incredibly cross with Uncle Jayce and how he responded to the big disaster. Remember, Robin, Auntie Mel wasn’t healthy as she is now. She was in the hospital, stable but unable to wake or to fully recover, and she was there for many months. Auntie Mel tried to save all of our lives because she believed in diplomacy and peace, and she saved mine even though I imagine many of the other Councillors wouldn’t much care about my life. But while your Uncle Jayce was very angry with Jinx, and very worried about Auntie Mel, Auntie Mel’s mum was even more angry. She wanted revenge, and in Uncle Jayce’ decisions she saw weakness. She interpreted that to be an opportunity; one for her people to exploit. 

It was chaos, little bird. Your grandfather stopped appearing in Piltovan public, too distressed at the warmongering he saw. In fact, your brave grandfather met me often, in secret, to help me care for the injured Zaunites and yes — sometimes Piltovans too — in all the fights that were to come. I, regretfully, had to fight too, as did your grandfather, but we did our best to only do so when the alternatives were worse. I hope that by the time you can read this letter that I won’t need to fight anymore; you deserve a future that lets children play in the streets and enjoy a life without fear.  Where was I? Ah — Ambessa. (That’s Auntie Mel’s mum’s name. I imagine she’ll be in your history books…)

Noxus, where Ambessa and Auntie Mel are from, is a strong but frightening place. I’m lucky I’ve never had reason to visit myself, but they are a rather proud, fearsome people who value strength immensely. Remember when I said that Ambessa saw weakness in Uncle Jayce’ decisions? Whatever Uncle Jayce and his colleagues said was what Piltover was saying, and Ambessa thought that Uncle Jayce was being a bit soft in trying to find the woman named Jinx. As unforgiving as Ambessa is, Auntie Mel is still her daughter; I believe in some sort of way, Ambessa loves Auntie Mel just as much as we love you (although Mama and I will never try to hurt thousands of people for you. You have our promise). Because Auntie Mel was very badly hurt, Ambessa wanted to catch the culprit and felt that a strong military response from Piltover to Zaun was necessary. When Uncle Jayce didn’t do this to the extent she expected, Ambessa brought Noxus down upon our two cities.

This was very scary for everybody; remember, lots of people kept fighting between Piltover and Zaun, too! But of course the most troubling part was that the very rich, very powerful, and often very corrupt were the ones who stayed the most safe through this all; they could afford better medical care or hiding places or all of the above. No, the people getting hurt the most weren’t even the ones behind what happened to me, your uncle, and Auntie Mel on that disastrous day. It was regular people, just like you and me and mum; people who just wanted to eat their meals and enjoy their time together in Valoran like every other day.

In fact, it was humans specifically who suffered most. Unlike your grandfather, or Councilman Bolbok, survival for these regular humans was very difficult. Many sick people were pulled into fights or injured on accident; they often weren’t strong enough to recover, if they didn’t have good health or money or a safe place to live beforehand.

Blitzcrank tried to protect a lot of them, but when I went to these people and helped stabilize broken bones or reattached limbs, it became very clear that what they wanted was their own strength — not to rely on groups with questionable incentives like the chembarons to keep them safe from Ambessa or Enforcers. I started using my new skillset to help them, too, the way I started to mend myself.

Lots of people didn’t like that. People who hadn’t known why I was doing what I was doing thought I was doing very bad things to the people I tried to help; they didn’t understand the benefits of mechanical augmentation and thought I was trying to change people into something they were not. Uncle Jayce was very uncomfortable with it as well, but we didn’t talk much then so I didn’t have to hear him argue with me about it. I was trying to do what he and I wanted all along; use Hextech for the betterment of society. But I understand; progress can be scary and foreign and it was even difficult for us to have Hextech accepted by the public. I didn’t expect most people to accept physical modifications that quickly, but I did often think that many disagreeable opinions were driven by fear and uncertainty.

Mama, you must understand, did the best she could to accept and comprehend my work. She did really well; even if she was unsure about man-machine supplantation, she knew that I was only trying to help people who wanted it. But I made her really mad one day, Robin. I learned a lot that day about how I might perceive my life’s work and discovery, and how others might as well; it was an important experience for me, and I was deeply humbled by her.

Well, I say this now. But I was just as mad at Mama back then. Adults aren’t perfect or smart most of the time, but we do our best. 

[quitealotofsodapop]

Nobody bays an eye at the fact that MK's mom is a very much male presenting person. They live in a world where shape-shifting is the norm, and there is literally a famous story about a kingdom with a river that can make anyone, no matter the gender, pregnant. Its not an impossible thing to imagine for them, especially since they suspect MK to be a demon at that point anyway, which means his mom is guaranteed to be one too. No, the biggest surprise in regards to Wukong's pregnancy comes more from who Wukong is rather than any sort of gender he presents as, but it's rather easily explained away. After all, there's no reason for Wukong to hide the fact that Stone Monkey pregnancies are often fatal and result in many complications, so as the stronger and more durable between himself and his mate as well as the one with mor most layers of immortality, it's simple logic that he'd be the one to bear their young.

At least, that's how Wukong describes it later. What he neglected to realize is that just because the specifics of Stone Monkey pregnancies have become somewhat common knowledge amongst the celestials, the mortals do not share in that knowledge and hus rather blase attitude in regards to potentially dying in childbirth does little to ease DBK, Pigsy, Tang, or Sandy's concern. PIF is a little more understanding of Wukong's position, having gone through similar complications with Redson's birth, and actually applauds his willingness and bravery in bringing more children into the world, even whilst almost losing his life to bring his eldest into the world.

prev post.

That and they don't want to assume anything in case MK's mom is a trans person. Wukong is fine with both Mama/Baba titles, and if he carried the kid it only makes sense to him to be "Mom" to them.

In a world of demons, trans people, shapeshifting, and rivers that make your pregnant, you just grow up knowing that sometimes a dude gets pregnant.

Regular Stone Monkey pregnancies aren't anymore fatal than say wild monkey statistics, but the Stone Egg method is super dangerous. Stone Monkeys basically donate so much of their life energy to the world around them that there's very little left over for themselves. The "Boulder" atop FFM is even described as spreading orchids and mushrooms into the earth around it.

PIF admires and envies Wukong a little for his success, despite the terror surrounding little Xiaotian's arrival. She wonders if DBK hadn't been imprisoned, if they could have had such luck.

Wukong very simply explains to the Noodle Gang that he's like the healthiest demon around, and his mate is slightly more fragile than him (literally born in the anaerobic enviroment of the moon = no immune system), so he takes over for baby-incubating. The gnag are super intrigued!

Tang: "So when did you decide to have MK?" Wukong, laughing: "Oh, that was a happy accident! A happy, kinda-scary, 14 year accident." Noodle Gang: (*all nod on understanding/awkwardness*) MK: "Yeah, thats why I grew up being told never to bury myself under a mountain." Noodle Gang: "...wut?" Tang:, JTTW brain activating: "Wait. Did you say 14 years!? As in during the Journey!?!"

Wukong pretty much pulls out corkboard of crayon drawings (like in "The Plan Man") to explain the process and how Macaque accidentally left Wukong "rock pregnant" under Five Finger Mountain - a collage crafted specifically back when MK had first asked about the "Birds and the Bees". The Noodle Shop Gang are horrified - and so is MK for having to re-live it.

Everyone comes away from that specifc lunchtime knowing a little too much about the reproductive habits of Stone Monkeys.

Hilariously I can imagine a situation like with the Eclipse Twins in the TMKATI au (both monkeys got el-pregante with either twin) happening here.

But with the current day. Remember how I pointed out that out of all the Nodelets, one shadow planet was missing? >:3

Once the LBD situation is dealt with at the end of S3;

Guanyin: (*gently grabs Macaque by the scruff of the neck*) Guanyin: "How long were you going to run around getting into danger without telling him [Wukong] you were expecting as well?!" Macaque, honestly confused: "Pardon???" Wukong: (*GASP!*) "Hypocrite!" Macaque: "In my defence, I didn't know that could happen."

MK barfs just *a little* at the announcement (MK: "I TOLD you they were being gross!").

Que the last Lunar Nodelet; Ziqi being made. This time via a very nervous Macaque.

Shadow monkey is on 24 hour lockdown pretty much to watch out for health complications, a reasonable punishment for his little disappearing act. Complications arise only because Mac was away from FFM for an appointment with Lao Tzu when a certain Scroll got found...

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader)

A/N: This is the newest part of my writing that I'm including! This takes place after season 3 but before the events of season 4 of Castlevania. I'm unsure at the moment whether to include season 4 plotlines, but I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Born as a witch to a powerful coven, Y/N is destined for greatness. That is until the wrongs of the world destroy her life, leaving her in fear for what she is. It's when her life is on the lines that she runs into the infamous, ghastly castle needing shelter, that she runs into the newest owner. Or, two people join together, yearning for a life they wish they could build.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Follow the story on A03!

PROLOGUE

They said that a red moon was a mark of God’s wrath. However, those born on a red moon were a sign of danger or foreboding.

The sign of a harbinger and the doom for mankind. The day of judgement for all who sinned against God and the heavens. It was one of the superstitions that caused those to feel the most judged and for others to be the most sinister in their beliefs against those.

God worked in many ways, and his followers worked to spread his word, regardless of what they proved was good or bad. They judged and they judged all, regardless of background or creed.

“An upcoming apocalypse,” they cried, “brought forth in the name of one borne from its blood.”

It was what was told to your mother, who carried you when she was abandoned at her lowest. She was welcomed anew by her new family, a coven of sisters. Her brood of many sisters protected and sheltered her: from the men who hurt her, to her village banishing her when her powers were discovered. It was only months into her arrival when the roundness in her belly hardened and swelled, that she found she was with child. Instead of the judgement of producing kin outside of wedlock, your mother was praised and celebrated. It was their words that spoke she was carrying a girl, a new witch that was promised to them after so long of waiting.

Moons changed in their cycles, as did your mother’s belly, growing with the babe inside. Both were pampered and doted, for the girl was claimed as the next to be as strong as the current matron, and all sisters could agree.

When the red moon appeared, as beautiful as its endless cycles before and after, was when the sisters prophesied you would come into the world.

The pain your mother carried her, the tears flooded down her face when she struggled through the night, spurred on by the chants of her many sisters. Eleven to be exact, the space in between was “for the leader himself”, Satan.

With the moon, bleeding and bright above their heads, they circled her in a formation, holding hand in hand as they chanted and praised into the night. Their cries blurred into one with your mother’s, the final push brought you forth with a shriek of your own.

Screaming, begging to be heard.

Swaddled in red, your mother gathered you in her arms. Skin as brown and hair black with small curls, she smiled as she wiped your brow, kissing your forehead lovingly, repeating the words alongside her sisters:

‘Red, red as autumntime. They shall fall in dread when you go by.’

-

1463

Six years Later.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, mama,” the little girl came bounding into the hut, mud and twigs matted in her curly hair, her skin was scratched and bruised from falls, but her toothy smile was enough to bring her mother’s attention to softly scold her. “You’re muddy again, Y/N. Did you cross over the river?”

The little girl darted her eyes away, trying to keep up with her innocent smile. “No.”

“Your ears burn when you lie, did you know that?” She pinched at her round cheek, but her smile was soft compared to how the years had treated her. “I shall clean you up before supper. Instead, we shall continue our lessons.”

“Will I learn to fly again?” The girl beamed, spreading her arms as she flapped them, mimicking the birds she saw in the trees.

“Levitation comes with many years of practise, sweet girl. It will not come to you for many more years. And besides, I shan’t let you fly around these woods, who knows who would see you.”

The girl knew of what lurked in the woods beyond their small camp, of what stalked and hunted in the night. Vampires. The blood leeches that preyed on anyone they saw. Men, women and children were never safe, and the little girl was warmed by her mother and the many sisters of the coven to be wary of their powers, and their manipulations. Targoviste - although safe to protect her from the humans - was not safe in keeping the creatures away. Nowhere was safe for little girls, but Y/N was no ordinary girl.

“Now,” her mother continued, “we shall continue with divine power.”

A favourite of the girl, she rushed to the table, leaning to get a better look. Divine power held two pillars in its wake, a never-ending cycle of balancing life and death. To make life was to call death.

The girl watched on, seeing two potted flowers, one had petals as yellow and bright as a canary’s, but one had shrivelled and died after many days of neglect.

“You remember the words?” Her mother asked as the little girl nodded her head enthusiastically. “Very good, speak them loud and clear, focusing all on the flower that is alive.”

The girl stared at the petals carefully, making sure not to take her eyes off them. She could feel the way they drew life, and how life spread through from the dirt all throughout. With the simple words, the girl commanded, “Capio.”

As if witnessing time move in lightspeed beyond what any human could comprehend, the petals began to shrivel and darken, and the yellow bulbs of the flowers shrunk as they caved in one at a time, curling in as the soil darkened. The girl looked up at her mother, pride flourishing on her face, “Can I say the other one, mama?”

“You may.”

She looked at the decayed pot with the other flower already dead for some time, speaking clearly, “Do.”

The same happened, and the girl remembered her mother describing it as if the lungs of a human were breathing. She could feel how the flower rushed back with life into its soil, brightening and blossoming once again. Its petals developed as they rose high and mighty, taking in the appearance of being freshly plucked not long ago.

“Very good, Y/N. You have gotten very confident with that spell.” She spoke, taking the pots aside, stroking her daughter’s cheek warmly. “You will become a great witch.”

“Just like you?”

“I’m no great witch, my sweet.” Her mother laughed sincerely. “It is I who had to be trained further than I was capable of knowing.”

“How did you find out you were a witch?” The girl pondered.

“When I was a little girl, maybe the same age as you, I was teased by the other children my age,” her mother began, “It got very bad, to the point one day, I was pushed into the river, and they all laughed at me.” There was a sadness in her eyes, but her daughter could read that it was more than just sadness, but anger. “I don’t know what came over me, this feeling. It felt how the wind changes, when storms approach and you can sense it’ll rain. That’s how it felt, a sense of power.” She raised her hand, clenching it open and shut.

“I remember I was staring at a rock in front of me, staring at it so hard, that I hoped for it to move, to hurt them back… I knew it was wrong, but they hurt me.”

“Did you hurt them?”

“No, I gave them a warning. I scared them off by raising the rock for all of them to see. They screamed, running back to their families and accusing me of being a demon.” She laughed sadly before she knelt low to her daughter’s level.

“You must promise me something, Y/N.”

“Yes, mama?”

“No matter how much people hate you for what you are, no matter the pain they inflict. It is better to not hurt them back. We hold—extraordinary power, that no one but us would understand.” She squeezed Y/N’s shoulder in emphasis. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Good,” she kissed her hairline. “Now, you have the choice to clean up or help me tidy in here before supper.”

“How about I go back outside again?” Y/N beamed, “I’m already dirty, but I can get clean when I return.”

Her mother thought of this for a moment, sighing heavily in defeat. “Very well, but you mustn’t cross the river. It is getting too dark.”

“I promise!” Y/N laughed as she chased the greying clouds, running as far as her little leg could carry her. It was by the time she caught up to the river when her lungs were burning and she stared at the pebbles.

“I could do what Mama did.” She said aloud, only the trees, and the birds in their nests could hear her, and sense her presence. “I can be strong like her.”

She concentrated on the smallest rock beside her, staring and staring at the smoothness of its surface. Holding her palm out, she clenched and unclenched, trying for a moment as she got the pebble to shift once, then again, moving the other rocks it was embedded in, wiggling it free bit by bit.

Her patience was wearing thin, it was taking forever! It wasn’t until she loosened it enough that in a fit of frustration, she yelled into the air, tossing her arm outward as she flung the pebble in its direction, startling her by the suddenness.

“It worked!” She toothily smiled, staring out as she watched the smooth pebble scatter across the water’s edge, catching itself in the mud on the other side.

She was about to happily go back to celebrate her victory, to tell her mother in hopes she’d be proud, but her eyes caught something in the low treeline. The trees blended, and she thought she had seen one move, until a silhouette emerged, tall and willowy, blending in naturally with its surroundings.

Y/N’s smile dropped as she took in the stranger on the other side of the river, staring her down despite her not being able to see their face. It was shrouded in a dark hood, and only their nose and mouth were visible, skin bone-white.

She felt frozen in the very spot she stood in, all sense of fight or flight dispelled from her body, and moving down her spine was the icy-cold sensation of true fear.

Run.

Run.

RUN!

Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating, replacing it with the ticking clock, seconds passing with the chances of escaping running thin.

It was only when the stranger’s face split open into a wide smile, that Y/N could feel the sensation come back to her legs.

Sharp fangs protruded from their mouth, gleaming like silver daggers.

She didn’t know what kept her going, the hope she would make it back alive, or the fact that she wanted to stay alive for her mother’s sake.

She could hear the creature move to keep up with her with ease, chasing the trees as it ran atop, keeping pace with her.

She had hoped the moment she got back to her mother’s hut that it was all a cruel nightmare. That she would wake up in her bed and nothing had happened.

Her small village grew closer in the distance, with the sounds of the winds and creatures close and surrounding her. She could almost feel their breath on the back of her neck, their laughter, mocking her to move faster—as if she was their prey and they enjoyed the chase. It felt like there were thousands of them, an army of them chasing after her.

Y/N’s lungs burned for air until she reached the front door, and everything was deadly quiet, except for the sound of her wheezing. No candles burned in the hut, nor in any other that she knew a sister occupied. Where is everyone? She thought, scanning the village, where no light was seen.

“Mama? You must let me in! There’s—” she pushed the door open to witness the horrors in front of her. “Vampires.”

The blood was the first thing she noticed, startling and fresh, with her mother’s body lying alongside it, eyes vacant and clouded.

Y/N didn’t know the scream that came from her lips came from her, crashing to the floor and coming into contact with her mother’s body. “No, no, mama, please! Wake up!” She shook her violently, staring only back into cold, lifeless eyes. “Wake up, please! Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

She scanned the room, everything had been scattered in places in the small room, as if someone had come in and pulled it apart, root and stem. Think, Y/N, think! She thought, and only did she spot the items that she crawled the smashed plotted plants.

She cradled it in her hands, pooling soil as she cupped them to keep the flower stable, chanting the words over and over again. “Capio.”

She watched, waiting, hoping and praying to whoever was out there to hear her prayers, but she continued and continued. “Capio. Capio. Do. Do.”

The flower in her grasp did not budge with death, instead, its petals remained its dull, yellowish-hue, staring back at her hopelessly as she had felt. It was only the realisation hitting her that she knew the others in her coven were not there anymore either, and she was the only one left.

Tears flooded down her cheeks, and Y/N cradled her mother’s body, already growing colder with the seconds passing. “Please come back… I need you.”

-

Latin Translations:

Capio – (I) take/seize

Do – (I) give/bestow

[cowgurrrl]

Dancing Barefoot

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this was slightly self-indulgent because Patti Smith is my personal god also baby Miller should be arriving in the next fic but this idea was stuck in my head and I HAD to write it

Summary: “I’ll never finish falling in love with you.” - Nicole Williams, Collared aka Joel helps you and the baby sleep ~800 words

Warnings: a little bittersweet, talks of Janey girl and Sarah bear, brief brief brief mention of a strained parent/child relationship, pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff

The moonlight streams from the windows, and the birds chirp sleepily outside. Ellie is safe in her bed, and Joel is lying on his right side beside you, occasionally mumbling something you never quite catch. You should be asleep. The baby should be asleep; instead, they're using you as their punching bag. You've been tossing and turning for thirty minutes, making the baby toss and turn just as much. You sigh and rub your face like it will be enough to soothe you and the baby to sleep.

"Can't sleep?" Joel mumbles, and you look at his back. You didn't even know he was awake, but you nod at the ceiling. 

"Your kid is doing laps." 

"Why is it my kid when he's misbehaving?" He asks as he turns to face you. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are heavy with sleep, but his hand still manages to find your bump in the dark. "Let your mama sleep." He says, poking at your stomach. 

"I don't think poking our baby in the face is going to get them to sleep," you say, and he hums, half-asleep. You run your fingers through his curls and smile when he cuddles closer to you. "I think they want a song." 

"The baby wants a song, or you want a song?"

"Both." You say. You catch the pull of his lips in the moonlight before he kisses your temple. He sighs as he gets out of bed and grabs his guitar from the corner. He perches on the edge of your bed shirtless, his silver scars on display without shame, and you remember each story associated with them— ghosts of the people you were before baby bumps and shared last names.  

"What d'you want to hear?" He asks, strumming a few times to check the tuning.

"Do you know any Patti Smith?" You ask, and he turns to give you a look. "What? I had a life before you." He chuckles, and you lean against your headboard, hands resting on your swollen belly. He looks at the frets like they're an equation for a few slow moments before the familiar ballad fills the space. You smile as he quietly sings the words, mouthing them as he goes. 

Little Miller seems to realize their dad is singing because you feel them move in time with the strums. If this kid loves music already, we're going to need more records, you think. You imagine little hands reaching for the guitar as Ellie or Joel play, adding their own dissonant sound to the song previously being played. Maybe you could hire someone in town to make tiny instruments for them to play with once they're big enough. The idea of a little jam circle with Ellie, Joel, and the baby makes your heart sing. As the song ends, Joel looks at you expectantly, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. The tiny heartbeat under your ribs has settled, only occasionally kicking to let you know they're still alive.

"Like clockwork," you say, and he smiles, gently placing the guitar back in its corner. "As judgy as you were with my request, you pulled that out pretty fast."

"I had a life before you," he echoes, and you roll your eyes as he slides back into bed with you. "Sarah didn't like most of the music I played in the truck, but she liked Patti."

"Smart girl." 

"What music did Jane like?" He asks, and the way he says her name makes you want to cry. He says it as if it were holy and sacred because it always will be to you. You smile and cuddle close to him. His arms envelop you in warmth, and his smell surrounds you, and you feel safe. 

"She was an old soul. She liked ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, and Janis Joplin. I'm convinced we played the Pearl album more than any other person on the planet," you say, kissing his shoulder. "Thank you for always asking about her."

"I like hearing about her," he says as if he were pointing out constellations— easy and undeniable. Her dad didn't even want to hear about her, and now this man who had never met her asks about her because you loved her. Because you still love her, and he loves you. This time, you do cry. You blame it on pregnancy hormones and a lack of sleep, but Joel knows it's something more. He kisses your tears away and rubs soothing circles into your back. "She'll always have a place in our home, d'you hear me?" He asks softly, and you nod. 

You fall asleep in his arms that night and almost every night, but this time you dream of little feet standing on your kitchen table, dancing along to Janis Joplin's crooning. You dream of teasing Jane's hair to match Stevie Nicks’ on the cover of her Bella Donna album. You dream of the day she came home, suddenly detesting ballet and wanting to take drum lessons instead. Something tells you she left some of her rockstar energy with you, and the new baby is taking it all in— pieces of her left in so much more than just your memory now. 

🍓

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Tag list: @evyiione @nyotamalfoy @abbyhaslongshorts

[pupkashi]

nap time

pakkun loves spending time with you, kakashi doesn’t mind it one bit

a/n: literally one month late to this request I’m so so so sorry blame midterms plz !!!! i hope you still find your way to this piece and i hope u enjoy !! send in more kakashi requests i love him so bad <3

wordcount: 1,084

masterlist

warnings: mention of pregnancy, kakashi refers to the reader as mama at one point

“kashi i already told you I’ll be fine on my own” you roll your eyes, one hand in his larger one and the other still running through his silver hair.

your boyfriend can’t help but sigh, the smallest of pouts sitting on his pretty lips. “I’ll just feel more comfortable if one of the ninken are here with you while I’m gone,” you can see the sincerity in his eyes, only pure intention behind his gaze, “I’m gonna be gone for who knows how long and i don’t want anything to happen to you, not when things between us are just starting.”

it’s with a small smile and a dramatically loud sigh that you roll onto your back, “fine fine, don’t have to get so sappy on me copy ninja,” kakashi smiled at your words, rolling over and resting on his forearms, placing a kiss to your cheek before getting out of bed.

you watch him with a smile as he summons his ninken, you expect to see the whole pack but only one appears, pakkun.

“what is it boss?” the deep voice makes your smile grow wider, the dog nods along as kakashi explains to him what’s happening.

“hi pakkun” you wave, the dog lifts his paw slightly and you giggle. kakashi can’t help but stare lovingly at the interaction, his eyes forming into small crescents.

“I’ll summon you again when i leave, got it?” the dog replies in a grunt before disappearing just as fast as he arrived.

kakashi got back into bed with you, opening his arms so you could rest on his chest. it was quiet, the only sounds were a couple birds chirping and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

“d’you think he’ll like me?” your eyes were wide as you looked at kakashi, he smiled and kissed your forehead before replying, “he’s gonna love you.”

and so as you closed the door as kakashi left for his mission you turned to the pug, a smile on your face, “do you like doing regular dog things too?” pakkun’s tail wagged involuntary as you showed him a frisbee.

kakashi was gone a week, for him it was a long grueling, terrible week.

pakkun had the best week of his life with you. he’d gone to a lake, played fetch countless of times, got to walk around the village with you, and best of all he got endless cuddles and pats from you.

when your boyfriend returned he was shocked to find pakkun upset at his arrival, already asking when he’d be summoned to protect you again.

and so every other time after that, pakkun was always summoned while kakashi was gone, his little tail wagging as he saw you and practically jumping into your arms when kakashi left.

you loved the little dog so much. you’d even convinced kakashi to let pakkun be the ring bearer at your wedding (it didn’t take much convincing.)

nothing changed when kakashi became the sixth hokage, when he knew he’d have a late night he’d summon pakkun to keep you company.

and so when he learned his wife was pregnant, pakkun became like gum to your side anytime kakashi was gone. you didn’t mind, you loved having him around to keep you company and help you run errands and it gave your husband peace of mind. it was a win-win really.

kakashi never really got to see much of what you two got up to in his absence. during the beginning of your relationship you’d always greet him at the gates of the village. now that he was hokage he’d always come home to you cooking or doing something, pakkun usually just sitting next you.

with a happy sigh kakashi set aside the last of his paperwork for the day, glancing at the clock and smiling when he realized he was done nearly two hours earlier than what he had told you. he quickly grabbed his things and made his way back home, excited to finally be with you again.

the sixth hokage opened the door quietly, slipping his shoes off before his eyes landed on the two figures on the couch. his heart grew in his chest, warmth spreading across his body as a smile found its way onto his lips.

pakkun lay curled up in your lap, your hand resting softly on his back, you’d surely fallen asleep petting him. the two of you were breathing evenly.

kakashi didn’t wanna move, he didn’t even wanna breathe in fear of disturbing the two of you. but alas, pakkun was ninken and his ears twitched as the sound of kakashi’s quiet steps.

“welcome back boss” pakkun sat up, jumping off the couch and stretching with a big yawn, shaking before sitting in front of kakashi.

“i see you’re having a grand time with my wife,” he laughed, pakkun looked back at you before looking at kakashi once more.

“she gave me bacon today, she told me not to tell you but i just can’t keep things from you” kakashi smiled at his words, he couldn’t help but picture his own kid confessing that you’d snuck him an extra cookie after dinner.

“kashi?” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes, you stretched a bit before smiling at your husband, “you’re home early.”

kakashi wasted no time in sitting next to you, placing a kiss to your cheek and resting his much larger hand atop your now growing baby bump. “couldn’t bear to be another second away from the two of you.”

pakkun had found his way to your other side, nuzzling himself under your arm and laying down, a content sigh when you scratched the top of his head.

“pakkun told me you gave him bacon,” your eyes went wide and kakashi laughed, “mama is gonna spoil you rotten isn’t she?” he spoke, bending down a bit to place a soft kiss to your belly.

“as if you won’t!” you retorted, a smile on your face when he blushed deeply, shy giggles leaving his lips. he couldn’t fight back, he knew you were right. instead he placed a kiss onto your forehead before getting up to shower and change.

before he rounded the corner to the restroom he glanced back, smiling as he saw you placing a now napping pakkun onto your lap, continuing to shower him affection.

kakashi couldn’t help but smile at his little family, happiness and love coursing through his veins as pakkun nuzzled up to your baby bump.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Though The Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You; Ruggie Bucchi

A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone.

Main Character; Ruggie Bucchi

Supporting Roles; Grandma Bucchi, Rho (Ruggie's bird)

Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match), gender-neutral reader, this can be read as platonic, familial, or romantic, hurt/comfort, I get emotional yet again about Ruggie, stressed reader

Content Warning; Ruggie's backstory (his mom's death and I mention childbirth, but describe nothing), self-doubt (reader), allusions of depression (reader), anxiety attacks (reader)

Word Count; 5 K

Do not put mine - or other creators' - works into AI; that shit steals.

Prologue & Leona's Story | Jack's Story

Ruggie was out with the adults, tagging along to collect honey to bring back to the village. He followed silently behind his grandmother, holding her hand. Ahead of them two birds flew ahead, honeyguides, singing their song to alert the beastmen that there was a hive ahead. A hive full of sweet honey, a rare treat saved for the elderly and the young of the village.

“You see those birds, Ruggie,” his grandmother nodded up to where the birds flew. “Those are honeyguides. Your mother…” The woman paused, taking in a calming breath. It’s been nearly five years since her daughter, her only child, had passed away due to complications from childbirth. Unfortunately, it was common for many first-time hyena beastmen to pass while delivering… and such a fate fell upon her. She shook her head, continuing with her tale. “Your mother, her messenger was a honeyguide.”

Ruggie looked up to his grandmother. “Mama had one of those birds?” He tried whistling the tune of their leading song, but it just came out as raspberries.

His grandmother chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Yes, and oh the trouble those two got into. How do you think I got all this grey hair?” She tugged at a few strands to prove her point. She did their whistle, going slowly so that Ruggie could practice alongside her. “Like this.”

Ruggie eventually got the call down and whistled towards the other adults, and the two honeyguides. “Gramma?” He tugged at her shirt. She looked down and picked him up, putting him up on her shoulders. “Do you think my messenger will be a honeyguide… just like Mama’s?”

She smiled bittersweetly, picturing the rose quartz bird that stood still by the only pictures she had of her daughter. “Hmm, maybe. But that’s for the winds to decide. Regardless though, they’ll bring you great happiness.”

“Gramma?” Ruggie placed his head on top of hers. “What’s your messenger? Did Mama meet her soul match? Did you meet yours?”

The birds stopped, as they arrived at the hive. The adults tasked with smoking the bees out got to their jobs, passing down honey from the rock crevice and putting aside some of the comb for the birds. This harvest looked like it would be enough to feed both the elders and the children, plus some extra left over for the harvesters.

Ruggie’s grandmother hummed to herself. “I think that’s a story for a later time, no? Now come on, try some of this honey, it’s the sweetest I’ve ever had in all my years.”

She never got her messenger. Never had been gifted a soul match by the King of Beasts or the southern winds. And her daughter had met her match, but then he left after her death; her messenger going still after her passing. Leaving the ageing woman all alone, with only a few photos, her daughter’s lifeless messenger, and Ruggie. The person who looked the most like her.

…

The stars twinkled in the night sky, and Ruggie reached his hand out. “Hi, Mama,” he whispered. “I hope you’re doing okay up there in the stars… Tomorrow is my birthday ya know! I’m getting a messenger, just like you did!”

A gentle warm breeze caressed his face, and a shooting star raced against the deep indigo sky. Make a wish. Ruggie clamoured over the window, the breeze playing with his hair. He leaned against the frame, and closed his eyes. “Mama, if you’re up there listening… I wish that you could be my messenger. I know that I never got the chance to meet you, to get to know you, but I want to. I want to get to know you. And I know that you can’t be here, but … I love you, Mama.”

He cracked open his eyes and saw that the entire night sky was filled with shooting stars, a sign of a good omen. The warm breeze tickled his nose before going back out of the window. In the distance, he could hear a lone hyena calling out to its clan, but no one called back. He looked out into the sea of shooting stars and located the star he designated for his mom; an orange star, large, but not super noticeable. A warm amber amongst the darkness of the sky and pale blues of other stars.

He yawned and went back to his bed, clutching on to one of his mom’s old stuffies; a patched up warthog. “Good night, Mama, I love you.” He closed his eyes and was off to the land of dreams.

The light breeze was back, warm and carrying the scent of honey. It carried a small pink crystal bird with it, placing it gently at the foot of the bed, looking after Ruggie’s sleeping form. A honeyguide, much like his own late mother’s. It too being made out of pink crystal, but rhodochrosite, not rose quartz. A crystal meaning compassion, love, comfort, and happiness.

When Ruggie woke up he stared at the bird before cradling it gently to his heart. He walked to his grandmother’s door. “Look, gramma, it’s just like Mama’s!”

His grandmother hugged him, clutching on tightly to his back, tears rolling down her cheeks. Perhaps this life had been cruel to her, but she at least knew that her grandson, her only family, had someone out there. And that maybe, just maybe, her daughter was looking down from the stars smiling and looking out for her son.

…

…

…

Ruggie kept his messenger on him at all times. When he was wearing his dorm uniform, he kept the pink bird on a braided necklace that his grandmother made him for his fifth birthday, using some fabric from one of his mother’s old scarves. Whereas, when he was in the school uniform he kept it in his breast pocket, above his heart. And he would subconsciously check throughout the day to make sure that it was still there, a habit of his. 

It’s been four years, and yet the bird has yet to come to life. But Ruggie didn’t feel bitter, or sad. He knew that life wasn’t fair, he has witnessed that much. He has lived it, experienced that it wasn’t fair. Knew that it was something you could only make the best of. He also knew that he shouldn’t complain. He was thankful that he had at least something to match his mother. A symbol that she was always looking after him. So, even if the messenger never came to life, he could at least have an aspect of his mother. Thankful that there was at least a chance of him having a soul match out there, somewhere.

He hadn’t told his grandmother, as he didn’t want to bring a sense of sadness; had she not gone through enough? The last thing that he wanted to do was to bring more pain to the ageing woman’s heart. He just wanted her to be happy. She had done so much for him, sacrificed so much; the least he could do was give her some hope. That he could bring their family out of poverty. That he could get a well-paying job. That he could find happiness. That she needs not to worry about him. That he would be okay. That they would be okay.

Besides, the new school year was beginning and he was positive that would mean that Leona would give him odd jobs to do. But hey, money is money, and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when said gift horse paid him graciously. 

So, Ruggie was busying himself by rearranging his room, placing the few personal belongings that he had in their spots. The photo of him and his grandmother, and next to it, the warthog plush that belonged to his mom. Everything else was hand-me-downs from Leona, or related to schoolwork. The only other personal things he had was the braided necklace, and of course, his messenger. He whistled the honeyguide call to himself, making sure everything was in place. Leona was off at the ceremony, so he basically had the day free to himself. He could probably go off and work some odd errands, but just for today, he would relax.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the wings of the stone bird. “I know you’re out there. I want to find you,” he sighed, holding the bird to his chest. “Let me find you.” He tried to fight off the drowsiness that was taking hold — it wasn’t even nighttime yet — but it won in the end, and he fell asleep.

As the sun set, and the waning moon rose, a warm breeze carried the scent of hibiscus flowers and honey, ruffling his hair. The stone bird tumbled out of Ruggie’s hand, falling gently onto the blankets. The breeze caressed it, and the stone honeyguide ruffled its feathers for the first time. It hopped upright and nestled in the sleeping hyena-beastman’s hair, singing its guiding call softly.

…

Ruggie stretched awake, the room still dark as the sun had not yet woken up for the day. The waning moon, and stars provided the only light, casting the room in blue and silver light. He walked over to the window and looked out, searching for his mom’s star. “Hi mom,” he said to the warm amber star up in the sky. A warm breeze tickled his ears, and he imagined it was her playing with them. “Can you show me a sign?” About my soul match?

Something shifted under the bedsheets, and Ruggie’s ears twitched at the noise. He crept over to the bed, and lifted up the sheet carefully, unsure of what it could be. Underneath the blanket was the stone honeyguide, twitching in its sleep.

His eyes widened, and he carefully scooped up the little bird, cradling it in his hands. After all of these years. After all of the hardships that he has endured. All of the uncertainty. His soul match was here. He took in a sharp breath, trying to control the well of emotions that had sprung forth; that his soul match was alive, and that maybe his mother, and not the King of Beasts, had sent him a sign. That he wouldn’t be alone in this life. But a lone tear traced down the planes of his face, dropping onto the bird.

This is your sign, take it, my love.

…

…

…

You didn’t know what to make of any of this. Being transported into some dimension and waking up in a coffin of all things. That you now live in a decrepit mansion with some cat-monster and ghosts. That magic existed and you had several life-endangering encounters with said magic. And that you now have a small bird made out of pink crystal, and that it was alive. That it could talk.

“You know,” the bird hopped onto your head, “I can’t explain more than you need to be privy to.” Their voice played in your mind, and you tried to ignore them, instead focusing on the tall stack of books about dimensions; trying to find a way home.

You waved a hand around, forcing the bird to take flight, landing on your desk. “I am well aware of that, since you dodge every single one of my questions,” you huff, flipping over the page since it had nothing relevant about your situation. It only said that giraffes were originally demons hailing from the Boiling Isles, wherever that was. This dimension had evil giraffes, but apparently your dimension without magic was far more ludicrous than that. Predictable. “So if you aren’t going to be helpful, just leave me alone. I don’t need your ‘help’.”

The bird gave you a bombastic glare, huffing to itself it went to a small dark brown leather bound journal with the gold insignia of a lion and a hornbill, placing it in front of you. “No need to get snippy with me. Here, read this, it should explain everything you need to know. I can’t do anything else pertaining to your questions now though, know that.” With that, the bird took off through the window, off to who knows where. 

You sighed, but focused on the journal they put in front of you and cracked open the centuries old leather.

Of all the magic there is in Twisted Wonderland, the most coveted, the most revered, is the magic of soul matches. These matches come in many different forms, different for every person. Platonic. Familial. Romantic. Those are the most common. For the merfolk it is a song that only they can hear, their match tugging at their soul. Gifted to them by the benevolence of the Sea Witch. For fae it is yet to be revealed, as they are a secretive lot. Fearing that should anyone outside of their clan know that that information would be used against them. All that is known by outsiders is that they were gifted from the Thorn Fairy, a blessing. As for beastmen, and anyone hailing from the Sunset Savanaclaw, they were gifted bird messengers made from precious stone. It is said the crystal represents what their match will bring to them. And once they feel that they are ready, a glowing path of footsteps will lead them to their match. The birds will dance, and then they will know that they have found each other.

You placed the journal back down, brows creasing. You weren’t from the Sunset Savannah, let alone this dimension in the first place. How on Earth do you have a messenger? Why do you have a messenger? And what did it mean? I’m not ready for this… I don’t think I’ll ever be.

…

…

Ruggie had formed a friendship with his bird, and he even gave her a name; Rho. She doted over him, and her voice was what he imagined his mother’s was like; confident, caring, and warm. And even though he had a friendship with her, he has yet to see the glowing footsteps. He was more than ready to meet them, so it must mean that his soul match, whoever they were, wasn’t. 

“It’s unlike you to dwell on possibilities,” Rho said, landing on his shoulder, returning from one of her daily flights. “Uncertainty clouds your mind, much as the smoke from a brush fire does. Clogging out any possible light from the bright sun that lies beyond the thick smoke.” Rho also happened to be quite poetic and… concerning? But she was sweet, so he ignored the cryptic verses.

Ruggie shook his head, trying to centre his mind. “Hmm? Just thinking is all. Ya don’t need to worry about me, Rho. Shishishi!” But she was right, as his mind tended to go down the more pessimistic path.

What if his soul match was never ready? What if they didn’t want to find him? What if they would reject him after finding out about the cards he was dealt in life? Would they stay by his side as he pulled himself, his family, and his community out of poverty? Would they… would they be like his ‘dad’ and ditch him in hopes of better prospects elsewhere, never to come back? To leave him behind? Leaving him alone to take care of everything, with no one to turn to for support?

Rho sighed, and hopped onto his head, ruffling his hair. “See, uncertainty. A tree cannot grow if it does not receive sunlight. And you cannot grow if you doubt yourself.”

He rolled his eyes, but she was right, as per usual. “Yeah yeah, I know,” he sounded relaxed but he took the words to heart. It’s something his grandma would also tell him, albeit she would get straight to the point. Something like, Quit doubting yourself. You are more than capable. Plus I love ya, and that’s what matters!

But Rho looked unconvinced. “If you want, I can go… persuade their bird to encourage them to meet you.”

“Thought that was against the rules though?” Messengers aren’t allowed to disclose any information that could change their match’s mind on whether they wanted to meet or not. He had no idea why, but it was seen as a big no-no. “Didn’t take you as the rule breaking type.”

Rho flitted down to the windowsill, looking out into the Savanaclaw Dorm exterior. “As long as I don’t let anything slip, it is fine. A gentle nudge if you will. And technically, I am breaking no rules. Just paying a visit to my counterpart to discuss their progress. That is all.”

Ruggie raised a brow, chuckling to himself. “Shishishi, you’re a horrible liar,” he poked her on the nose. “Just don’t get caught, okay?”

Rho nipped at him and took off into flight. “Need not to worry.” She didn’t add her own thought, which was I’m unsure if they will be able to see me or not. It’s been several weeks since they arrived and I’ve seen no sign of them.

…

The bird has persisted to follow you everywhere you went; to all your classes, and you had to kick it out of the washroom on several occasions as well. Everywhere. And they. Would. Not. Shut. Up.

“Hey! Hey! You really need to find them!” They pulled at your uniform, trying to get your attention. “Hellooooo! Are you even listening to me?”

Unfortunately, yes. All you wanted to do was get back home. Yes, you have made friends here. You had fun. But you didn’t belong here, or least, you felt like you didn’t belong. The magicless Prefect from another, magicless, dimension. The closest thing you could even call family here would be Grim, and the three main ghosts who are still tethered to the Ramshackle Dorm. Stuck here without any clear way out, much like you are.

You glared at the bird, looking away from the nth book about different dimensions, still finding dillidy squat. “Yes,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I heard you the first time. But until I find answers, they can wait. They’ve waited this long, I can survive without them.”

The bird plopped itself onto the book, effectively preventing you from reading any further. “Exactly. They’ve waited for this long. They thought that there was no one out there for them. I know that you’re tired; tired of not getting answers. Tired of being treated as less than due to your situation. Tired of not knowing. But know this; there is someone who wants nothing more than to meet you. They don’t care that you don’t have magic. They don’t care that you’re from a different place. They just want to know you.”

That made you pause in your research, hands trembling. They were right. You are exhausted from everything. 

“Now now,” a second voice played in your head, the voice of a woman. But when you looked up you saw another crystal bird, the only thing differing it from yours was that it had more red and white bands. “No need to be nasty. Dear, come now. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?”

Unlike your bird, this newcomer was gentle, and didn’t prod you. They hopped forward, wiping a tear from your face. Since when had you started crying? But the few pebbles that were trying to hold together the dam came surging forward, and the new bird comforted you, wiping your tears away.

“Dear, you’ll be okay,” they said, handing you a tissue. “You don’t always have to be strong. There is no weakness in admitting that you need help. That not everything is okay. There is strength in that.”

The flood of emotions, of stress, of anxiety, of being overworked, of being everyone’s therapist calmed down from a raging torrent to a gentle trickle. Taking the tissue you blew your nose. “I don’t feel okay… I’m so,” you took in a choked breath, “tired.” It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, admitting to the truth. “I’m just so tired. I should be angry, but I’m just so tired.”

The bird put a wing on your face, holding it with care, with love. They had only just met you but have shown so much more kindness and empathy than anyone else during your stay. “Life has not been kind to you,” they said, rubbing grounding circles onto your palms, guiding your breathing. “You deserve to feel wanted. Deserve compassion. To be comforted when the dark clouds seem like they engulf all light. You deserve to be happy.”

“Why are you telling me all this,” you croaked, voice cracking. “I’ve ignored them-”

The pink bird shook their head, “No, you’ve been surviving, and adapting. But if you wish, if you are ready, you can find him.” They hopped back up to the open window, looking at you warmly. A soft breeze played with the ragged curtains, carrying the scent of honey, but also the smell of home. “Will you be alright?”

You rubbed at your nose, still feeling shaky but better. Not feeling like a water balloon about to burst. “I will be.”

The bird nodded, “Should you need anything do call. Your match calls me Rho.” They took flight, heading back to your match. And you could make out the faintest hints of glowing dandelion-yellow footsteps fading into the distance.

…

…

Ruggie had not had much free time for himself, being busy with schoolwork, lessons from Leona, and his normal workload alongside odd jobs to make some extra cash to send home. But even with the hustle and bustle, he had noticed the footsteps. They were faint, sometimes wavering, but they were there. It means that they’re open to meeting him, but not quite sure. Still some doubt in their mind.

“What did you tell them?” He looked up from the dishes he was scrubbing, filling in a shift at the Mostro Lounge.

Rho popped out from his breast pocket, climbing up to his shoulder. “That they aren’t alone. That they will be okay.”

Ruggie felt like there was something heavy in his throat. They feel alone? They aren’t okay? “Rho,” his grip on the plate that he was scrubbing tightened, and he forced himself to release it before he caused cracks. “What did you do? Where are they?”

“Ruggie, they will be okay. I told them words that they needed to hear. Affirming words.” Rho’s voice took on a more stern tone, which made Ruggie back off, but he still worried. “What did we say about dwelling on things outside of our control?”

Ruggie took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and released, calming his mind. “That it’s like the smoke of a brush fire. That beyond the dark smoke, there is sky beyond it, and fresh air… this too will pass.”

Rho let out a guiding call, “Good-”

Ruggie quickly grabbed her and put Rho in his pocket, hearing the door from the kitchen open. He didn’t want someone to walk in and find him ‘talking to air’ and think he was slacking off. “How is everything goin’ on out there?” He got back to scrubbing dishes, covering up that he was previously not.

“Quiet,” you huffed, putting on an apron and coming to stand next to him. “Azul has been trying to butter me up into making a contract with him… again.” You shook your head, rolling your eyes, “But I reminded him of what happened last time and he left well enough alone.”

Ruggie relaxed, it was just you. “Heyya, Prefect. Long time no see? Decided you were too good for Savanaclaw, huh?” He teased, bumping his shoulder to yours.

You bumped him back. Ever since you had to crash at Savanaclaw, you had formed a friendship with the hyena-beastman. He didn’t hide behind a mask, he was authentic, and that put you at ease. “Pshh,” you swatted at him with a towel, “like you could really get rid of me that easily, gotta come over and bug Leona every now and then. Keep him humble.”

“Pftt,” Ruggie burst out laughing. “Yeah, ‘keep him humble’. Just as long as ya don’t mess with him too much, yeah? Remember, I usually do his work.” There was no bite, and he swatted you back. “These dishes won’t clean themselves, come one, before Azul finds us slackin’ off.”

You quirked a brow but got to work, you would rather do the dishes and make light conversation, or just enjoy the quiet, with Ruggie, than deal with rude customers or being roped into something. So you and Ruggie worked in relative silence, working on getting the large pile of dishes done. The only thing breaking the silence being the distinct whistle Ruggie did quietly.

“Just curious, but what kind of whistle is that?” You put down the large pan you were rinsing off, down to dry, turning to Ruggie.

Ruggie stopped, his left ear twitching. “Ah, it’s just something I picked up when I was younger.” But he could see the curiosity in your eyes, and he decided to humour you. “It’s a honeyguide call, a type of bird. We used to work with them back at home to collect honey.”

Why does it sound so familiar then? Where have I heard it before? “Could you show me how to do it?”

As Ruggie taught you how to make the call, the two of you failed to notice Rho slip out of his pocket, flying up to where your bird rested. “We should just tell them! Look! The footprints are right there! Are they that dense?!” They huffed.

Rho shook her head, “They will do so on their accord. For now, let them be. They’re happy.”

…

…

The footsteps were glowing brightly now, a bright, warm, dandelion yellow. Cheerful, playful, and happy. But you hadn’t followed them yet, doubt still on your mind. Why did someone else get to pick my soul match? Shouldn’t I have a say in this? But every time those doubts came forward, the other pink bird, Rho she said her name was, would come for a visit.

“Good day, Prefect. How are you faring today?” She hopped over to your desk where you had a book about this world open, reading about beastmen and Sunset Savannah cultural practices.

You placed a bookmark on the page you were on, which discussed the caste system. “Doing better. But, Rho?” You held out a finger, and she hopped on. “I’m curious; what kind of bird are you?”

Rho cocked her head, “Ah, I thought you knew. My dear, I am a honeyguide.” She let out a call.

“A honeyguide…” You froze in your seat. It’s a honeyguide call. You knew you had heard that call before, your own messenger waking you up every morning with it. Did that mean… was Ruggie your soul match? The honeyguide. The feeling that everything would work out for the better when you were around Ruggie. He just felt… correct to you. Like home.

You rushed towards the front door, Rho and your own honeyguide clutching onto your uniform for dear life. “AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS YOU CHANGE YOUR HEART?!” Your honeyguide shrieked, falling off.

“Hush you!” Rho scolded, sending off your messenger to find Ruggie. “I take it you connected the dots then? You don’t need to rush, dear.” She said.

You didn’t slow down though, if anything you sped up. “My match is Ruggie, isn’t he?” It was stated like a question, but you knew that it was a statement. “I’ve kept him waiting! Kept him out!” You knew a bit about what Ruggie’s life was like before attending Night Raven College. That fate had seemed to mock him… and you also mocked him unknowingly.

Rho pulled on your ear, pulling you out of your spiral. “You weren’t ready, you cannot and should not blame yourself! You were making the best out of your situation!” This was the first time that Rho had sounded upset.

You stopped your frantic pace, halting in the middle of the hallway. Students passed by, some giving you weird looks, but they continued on their way. But someone stopped, and stepped aside, watching.

“I hurt him!” You shouted, but no one but you, and your match could hear when you spoke to your birds. “Hasn’t he been hurt enough?”

The footsteps were blinding now, he couldn’t be far away.

“Doesn’t he deserve to be happy? Don’t I deserve to be happy?! Why should some long ago king dictate how we should be happy?! We didn’t ask for this! Any of this!” You were heaving, the dam of emotions breaking again, tears rushing down your face in full force. “Rho,” you whispered, “I just want a place to call home. It doesn’t need to be the one I knew. It doesn’t need to be fancy, or elaborate. It doesn’t even need to be a place. He feels like home, where I can rest.”

But Rho wasn’t there anymore, your bird was now on your shoulder, trying to move you forward. “Well, you can’t do that if you just stay there! MOVE!”

You looked up and the footsteps were gone, in front of you was Ruggie with Rho on his shoulder. You hiccupped, be it from crying, the emotions, or the shock that he was right there, within reach. “Did you hear all of that?”

Ruggie nodded, “Yeah, yeah I did.”

Rho and your messenger took flight, performing the soul match dance before Rho landed on your shoulder, and your bird landed on Ruggie’s. And they sang the honeyguide call, indicating that there was something sweet ahead.

“Come on,” he took you to an empty classroom, away from prying eyes. “Here, breathe with me. In; one, two, three.” You breathed in as he instructed. “Hold; one, two, three.” You held. “And out; one, two, three.” And you breathed out. “Better?” He caressed the knuckles of your hand gently.

You nodded. “Ruggie, I’m sor-”

He stopped you, smiling. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. What matters most is that we found each other… That we chose each other.”

Fin

Author's Note; I literally cried writing this (I was emotional at the time). Ruggie's story has been in my brain since I put his name on the list for this AU. It has haunted me for weeks. Have had the honeyguide song stuck in my head for years ever since I first heard it on Wild Kratts of all things. My favourite one I've written as of yet; up there with Jade's.

Tag; @leonistic

Link to Masterlist

[stay-mon-army]

Hard Work Treats

Word Count: 1,853 words

Warning(s): Food (mentions of cooking and of eating but nothing specific)

Pairing: Fuma (&team) x gn!reader

Note: This was completely self-indulgent! I'm realizing that I use food and cooking for people as a love language, and man I love these boys! I want nothing more than to feed these boys to make sure they're eating good on their hard days! I hope you all are also taking care of yourselves! <3

Fuma was known as the dad of &Team, and you were not going to disagree with the masses analysis of your boyfriend. Being his significant other meant that you had become the surrogate parent of the boys as well. Even K, who was older than Fuma and should’ve been considered another parent, was often babied by the two of you – probably even more than the others were, and you weren’t going to catch him complaining.

You didn’t mind the sudden responsibility of caring for 8 grown teenage boys. They filled your extra time with shenanigans and chaos and love that you didn’t think was possible from a group of “professionals” (but the truth was they were just boys who loved to sing and dance, they weren’t anything special in that regard). In fact, you grew to love the attention and appreciation the boys showed to you, often coming to you when they had a problem or a question, taking you on like a mama bird with a collection of chicks – they basically followed you everywhere.

One day, when you knew the boys would be spending countless hours in the practice room working on their newest choreo, you decided to surprise them with some treats. These boys could put back food on a good day, but on dance practice days? They were like a pack of starving hyenas and you knew they wouldn’t have time to run out and grab food themselves.

So since you happened to have that day off from work, you spent the morning in the kitchen, making as many different dishes as you could. Since becoming the newest member of their werewolf family, you had shared your own personal family history through food, making sure to let them try as many different cultural dishes as you could remember or find that related to your loved ones. The boys were practically black holes; there wasn’t a single food they didn’t enjoy, and some became their new all-time favorites. You spent hours making all of their favorites and a few new ones they hadn’t tried yet; packing them away into pretty little containers was the best part, knowing they would fawn over all your hard work the moment you stepped through the doors of the practice room.

Putting the containers into big insulated bags to make carrying all that food easier, you finally dressed in your comfiest clothes, slapped on a mask, and began your trek down to the Hybe building. You knew that most of the boys were sad spending so much time in Korea, away from their families, but you were determined to bring them little sparks of joy wherever possible.

When you arrived, you were given a visitor pass and ushered past the security fencing, following the familiar path to the elevators and up to the practice room. As you approached the room, you debated how to enter. You could sneak in while they practiced, but you doubted they wouldn’t notice your entrance. You could burst in with food in hands, shouting as you know they would right back the moment they noticed you. You decided to just knock on the door before entering, like a normal person. Who cared about some grand entrance, it was your boys. They would be excited to see you no matter what (especially once they notice the food bags).

You pause outside the door to put down one of the heavy bags, listening to the song playing on the other side of the door. You loved their music, almost as much as you loved them as individuals, and you were secretly very proud that you were given the permission and trust to hear their new songs before they were officially released. There had been days in which you were allowed in the recording studio when they were recording new b-sides, and you couldn’t have been happier to see your boys in their element (although you much preferred seeing Fuma in the dance studio – that was his real home).

You knocked gently on the door, hearing the boys call out to stop the music as you inch the door open, peeking through.

The boys all screamed at the sight of you, exactly as you expected. The boys weren’t really known to be quiet for any extended period of time (except maybe Jo). You reached back to grab the second bag and the screaming got louder, bodies racing towards you before you could blink. Two boys grabbed the bags from you, three more had wrapped you into a group bear hug. You could see Fuma over one of their shoulders, grinning widely and laughing at the chaos around him. When your eyes locked, you couldn’t help but match his smile with one of your own – you truly had such a beautiful and sweet boyfriend.

The boys finally let you go and all begin to congregate around the food that you brought, which has been spread out picnic style across the floor – chopsticks and forks and spoons and knives and napkins scattered amongst the food as though they had been dumped out as an afterthought (they likely had been).

As the boys open up the containers of food, you notice your boyfriend sidle up beside you, his hand reaching out to ghost against your waist. You lean into his side subconsciously, laying your head against his body.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” He rumbles in your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple in appreciation.

“I know, but I couldn’t leave my babies starving when they’re working so hard.” You smile as the boys begin to bicker amongst themselves, fighting for different food items they want to try first. You watch K playfully shove Taki away from his favorite dish, making you laugh at their antics. “Besides, I needed an excuse to come see you.” You glance up at the man beside you.

He coughs into his hand, turning away to try to hide the blush that’s spread across his face. No matter how long you’ve been together, he still gets flustered when you flirt with him. It warms your heart, that even cheesy sayings get a reaction out of him, like he’s still in that honeymoon phase of puppy love, hanging off of your every interaction.

He pulls you closer into his side, still looking the other direction as he presses your body against his.

“Well, I’m glad you came.” He whispers, finally looking back at you with gentle eyes. He always looked at you like you put the stars in the sky, and you honestly couldn’t imagine why when he was the perfect partner himself.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, only being wrenched away from staring at him from the sound of screaming coming from the other direction.

You look over to find Yuma hoarding a specific dish, making Harua practically tackle him to get some for himself. EJ is trying his best to calm them down, but today seems to be a full moon or something – you had never seen them so riled up over something so small.

You decided to try to break up the frenzy happening a short distance away, also hoping that going over there would entice your boyfriend into also eating some of the food you made. He worked so hard, you know he needed to keep his strength up by eating his share of the food, and there was no way the others were going to be leaving any leftovers.

You manage to placate the boys quickly, dishing out the food to them and making sure they share all of the dishes. Fuma sneaks into the circle as well, taking bites of all of the dishes he gets passed, showering you with compliments after every tasting.

After the food is gone and the boys have spread out to lay across the floor like sacks of potatoes, you pack the containers back into their bags and get ready to leave them to the rest of their practice. Just as you zip up the second bag, you notice a shadow falling over your shoulder and you look up. Fuma is standing behind you reaching out a hand.

Unsure what’s about to happen, you take his hand, letting him pull you up to stand before him. Fuma wasn’t one for PDA – he was almost as quiet as Jo most of the time and would rather sit back and watch, rather than being the center of attention when he was in a group setting. You didn’t mind but it was something you had to get used to; you were lucky to get anything more than a grazing hand, holding hands, or a secret temple or forehead kiss most of the time.

Suddenly, Fuma reaches down and wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight so he could lift and spin you around. You squeal in surprise, wrapping your arms around his shoulders so he doesn’t drop you, burying your face into his neck so you don’t see the world spinning around you.

He puts you down to the giggles of you and the boys, most of them now watching from various lounging spots they’ve claimed around the room. When your feet touch solid ground again, you pull back and ask what that was for, wondering what had gotten into your gentle giant of a significant other.

“Thank you for always taking care of me and the boys.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he smiles at you. “I know sometimes we can be hectic and one might even say crazy, but I don’t know what we would do without you. You make tough days like this really fun; I know it helps me get through all the hard work we have to put in. Thank you for being our rock.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and now it’s your turn to blush and look away.

Unfortunately for you, you know have the attention of 8 other boys, who have all gotten up from their prone positions to rush in to take you into a giant bear hug, crushing together as tight as they could get.

The laughter and shouts of gratitude warm your heart, making your day even brighter. You wouldn’t say that you do any of this for the praise or attention, but it made you feel good that the hard work you put in was appreciated. And hey, who didn’t like being appreciated for their time and effort?

You thank the boys back, trying to give as many head pats and hand squeezes to the boys as you could reach. When they finally pull away, EJ tells them that it’s time for them to do a quick stretch and prepare for the next couple hours of practice. Some of the boys groan, but they all wander off to start stretching individually or in pairs.

Fuma gives you one last kiss, this one to you lips, before swearing he’d see you at home later.

As much as you loved the boys, you couldn’t wait to see him again later.