#accuracy flew out of the window

[pentragonart]

dos this still count as Olruggiomemes?

[moralesmilesanhour]

Could you maybe write something with Miles G. where the reader is kind of shy? Like they go to her house and room for the first time and the reader is nervous about it?

Your house was across the street from the basketball court where Miles first saw you.

When the court was empty, you liked to sit on a bench and doodle in an old composition notebook. No one could look over your shoulder here.

Miles had had a game coming up and felt that his shooting accuracy had been off lately, so he stopped here after school to get in some extra practice. You tensed when you heard his sneakers approaching the entrance, keeping your eyes down and praying that he wouldn't make you leave.

He walked right past you and said nothing.

Only the sound of his footsteps and the basketball he was carrying bouncing across the asphalt could be heard for the entire time he was there until he left.

At some point, Miles came to the same conclusion you did previously and started practicing around the same time every day. You drew, he hooped, the two of you left without a word. A careful routine.

Occasionally, you held your breath and dared to look up to watch him play. Miles' long cornrows brushed his shoulders and flew behind him with every shot, you noticed with amusement. It wasn't long before he made a few appearances in your notebook.

You looked up from your doodling one day and noticed him glancing in your direction. He made another shot, then did it again. And again. After a particularly smooth lay-up, Miles looked back with a grin playing on his face. Once it dawned on you that he was making direct eye-contact, you didn't know what else to do other than smile back.

"You don't talk much, do you?" He would ask you while leaving the court together just before curfew.

"I guess not," you responded in a near whisper.

Miles looked up in thought, then nodded.

"That's alright. Means you think a lot."

Smiles soon turned into winks which turned into short conversations and banter, and now you were both standing in front of the door to your room.

"You gonna go inside?" Miles asked when you hesitantly placed a hand on the doorknob.

"Y-yeah, we could go in."

"I think you need to open the door for that."

"...Right."

With a deep breath, you turned the knob.

The door opened up to a small bedroom with lopsided blinds only up halfway. You winced at the small pile of clothes you had left sitting on a swivel chair as you passed it. What a relief that you hadn't forgotten to make your bed this morning like you usually do.

Miles kicked his sneakers off at the entrance before following behind you. The way he scanned the room made you shift uncomfortably. Suddenly you noticed all of the tiny cracks in the ceiling and blemishes on the walls.

"Cool lights," he remarked, referring to the repurposed Christmas lights strung across your walls.

You relaxed a bit, and grabbed a tiny remote that had been sitting on your desk with an awkward smile. "I can turn them on if you want. They've got a buncha different patterns."

"Knock yourself out. Can I sit?"

"Sure."

You joined him on your bed as you pressed a button on the remote that caused the string lights to twinkle softly. They added a cozy contrast to the harsh neon lights from the towering skyscrapers outside that were visible from your window. It almost felt like a separate world.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, entranced by the different patterns blinking above you. It might've been the closest you would ever get to seeing fireworks up close.

"Sorry I don't have any games or anything," you spoke up suddenly. "You must be bored."

Miles turned to face you, closer than he had ever been before today. Close enough for you to realize that his right eye wasn't the same hazel brown as the left, but rather a warm green. He tilted his head quizzically.

"If I was bored, I'd be at home right now."

"But we haven't said anything in like, twenty minutes," you started to laugh.

"You think I like you for bein' a chatterbox?" he parried back.

You shrugged, then leaned your head on his shoulder. "Fair enough."

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Forgotten Nest (Part 8) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 4.7k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Parental Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; The Uranium Facility Mission; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: The uranium facility mission commences.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

Master List

Cora stood at the window of her home. It was barely light and she was still dressed in her pajamas. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped out onto the front deck of her home, and closed the door behind her. Stepping further out onto the deck, she stared in the direction of the Naval Air Base, trying to hold herself together.

She hadn’t slept last night. Not after her talk with Nickie and her discussion with her dad. Glancing down at her fingers, she tried to rub the blue ink out of her finger pads. The ink was still wet when she handed that photo to Maverick for the transfer. He shot her a look that she didn’t have the stomach to return and pulled her into a tight hug before he was gone.

Letting out a shaky breath, Cora turned back to the Naval Air Base to see an F/A-18 take off. And then another. And then another. Slowly sinking onto the front steps of her home, Cora watched them fly off before slowly lowering her head down into her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks.

~~~~~

Bradley rifled through his small bag, moving to grab his sleep clothes. Omaha was already in his bunk behind him, but Bradley’s mind was racing too fast for him to fall asleep quite yet. The mission was set for tomorrow and they were simply getting into position tonight.

Reaching for his toothbrush, Rooster paused and frowned when he felt his hand brush against a thick piece of paper. Pulling it out of his pack, Rooster paused when he realized that it was a photo. A photo of him and Cora at their senior prom.

How did that get into his bag?

Flipping it over, Rooster’s eyes quickly landed on the blue ink on the back of the photo. It was slightly smudged and the letters were written in haste, but it was clearly Cora’s handwriting. He knew it all of these years later.

Nickie told me about your meeting. Come home safely and we can talk.

Rooster flipped the photo over again, remembering that night vividly. He and Cora spent the whole night together, never wanting to leave each other’s sides, and caught up in the kind of love that only teenagers seemed to experience.

And bile rose in his throat when Rooster did the math in his head.

Cora was probably already pregnant in these photos. And it might just be the closest that they would ever get to having a photo of all three of them.

~~~~~

Maverick stared out at the assembled aviators in front of him with his hands folded calmly behind his back. This was the moment. He knew that someone wasn’t coming back from this mission and now he had to pick the pour souls who would be on the chopping block, all of which had families and friends back home waiting for their return.

The foxtrot teams were a simple choice. Speed and accuracy and ability to react quickly were his main criteria for that. Picking the single flier was the difficult choice. The one that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. However long that might be.

Hangman was the answer on paper—he flew the fastest and the most aggressively, which was what the mission called for. But no one trusted him to cover their backs. Coyote was out. The G-LOC incident grounded him. And between Fritz and Rooster, Rooster had the better stats and repertoire with the foxtrot teams. So, the answer was there. He just had to make it.

“Rooster,” Maverick called after Cyclone’s prompting.

The initial shock that Rooster wore on his face was clear as day, though he quickly shoved it behind the mask that all of them were wearing during the briefing. The mask that all aviators forced themselves to put on before every mission.

Rooster and Maverick locked eyes for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them. The more sheepish, guilt-stricken side of Rooster stood out more than Maverick had seen since the incident seventeen years ago. And from what Nickie said, Maverick knew that it was genuine. He just wished that it happened sooner.

Then Nickie and Rooster could have actually talked and learned about each other. Rooster could have made it up to Cora and that stress could have been off of her shoulders years ago. And then they could have been just like any ordinary family of three.

But things were never simple in the Mitchell family. Nor were they easy in the Bradshaw family.

Maverick nodded to the gathered aviators before making his way to the locker room, leaving Rooster standing there, a bit lost.

~~~~~

Rooster stepped out onto the flight deck, gripping his helmet loosely and clearly lost in his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting to be chosen. Not after everything that he and Maverick had put each other through over the years, and especially in the last few days. Not after he coasted his way through the training runs, never quite pushing it like Hangman did.

He didn’t think that he was good enough for this mission. And yet here he was.

Picking his head up for a moment, Rooster paused when he found Hangman standing on the deck in front of him, a serious expression on his face. Gone was the arrogant edge that made Rooster want to knock his teeth out ever since he met him. No, for once, Hangman actually looked like a team player. Like someone who cared if everyone came home.

“You give ‘em hell,” Hangman yelled over the roar of the engines, before making his way to his plane.

Rooster barely even acknowledged Hangman as he walked away, too caught up in his emotions. Nickie wanted to see him. Cora wanted to see him. Maverick chose him out of the line up of the best aviators in the country. Hangman was actually believed in him.

Rooster was so lost that it was a miracle he didn’t fall off the side of the ship.

Righting himself, Rooster turned and walked over to the plane adjacent to his own. Maverick was running through the pre-flight checks on his own aircraft when Rooster approached him, a bit more frantically than he intended.

“Sir? Sir?” Rooster called, causing Maverick to turn around to face him. “I . . . I just want to say—”

The orders over the comms cut off Rooster’s apology and automatically snapped both aviators into action. Maverick, seeing the shakiness to Rooster’s expression, took charge.

“We’ll talk. When we get back,” Maverick assured Rooster, who nodded curtly in return.

Maverick watched Rooster turn around and head for his own plane. Letting out a breath, Maverick looked to the ground, shaking his head before moving around to climb into his plane. Maverick didn’t want to lie to Rooster. But he wanted to protect him even more.

And, so, he lied.  

~~~~~

Nickie sat out on his surfboard, staring out into the Pacific Ocean with a far-off expression in his eye. The waves passed harmlessly under him, tickling his calves, but not pushing him hard enough to snap him out of his daze. Maverick was somewhere out in the Pacific in that direction. Bradley was somewhere out in the Pacific in that direction.

And Nickie hated waiting. He hated not knowing.

“Hey, Mitchell!” one of the other surf team boys called, breaking Nickie out of his trance. “Let’s go!”

“Right,” Nickie breathed out, blinking rapidly.

Turning to shoot one last look in the direction of the Pacific, Nickie paddled forward to catch a wave, ignoring how his stomach was knotted uncomfortably with stress.

~~~~~

Maverick signaled to the deck crew that he was prepared for launch before grabbing the handle. Forcing himself to take a breath, Maverick closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Nickie and Cora back home, safe and sound and taken care of, before he opened his eyes, completely focused on the mission directly in front of him.

“Watch over ‘em, Ice,” he murmured, before his plane was launched into the air.

~~~~~

Cora stood on the sand with Penny, watching Nickie surf with the other surf team kids. The two women had barely talked since Cora arrived, both caught up in their own thoughts. Cora wrapped her arms around herself, watching Nickie surf through the waves, though not as well as he normally did. He was distracted, she could tell, and the realization made her heart ache.

“He’s doing well,” Penny commented, causing Cora to nod slowly.

“But he’s not in it,” Cora stated softly, turning to face Penny. She gestured to the open ocean in front of them. “His head’s out there.”

“Can’t blame the kid,” Penny replied, just as Nickie wiped out.

Cora held her breath until Nickie resurfaced, completely unharmed, but just a little sheepish. Settling back down, Cora pursed her lips together and stared out at the setting sun in the distance. Penny reached out and wrapped an arm around her, giving Cora some support.

They didn’t need to discuss it. They both saw the look in Maverick’s eyes when he said goodbye.

“I think I’m going to take Amelia on a sailing trip,” Penny suggested, causing Cora to nod in return. “Did you and Nickie want to come?”

“No, thank you though,” Cora replied softly, turning back to her son. “I’m worried that Nickie would go tumbling off the side at this rate.”

“You know that I’m always here for the two of you.”

“I know, Penny. Thank you.”

Cora turned back to the waves of the distant ocean, unable to help the tears building in her eyes. Silently letting them drip down her cheeks, Cora let Penny pull her into a tight hug as the two women tried to hold themselves together for the sake of their children. And, frankly, for themselves.

~~~~~

“Dagger Two defending!” Rooster called out, spotting the SAMs behind him. Slamming his fist into the flares button, Rooster cursed when none popped out. “Shit! I’m out of flares!”

“Rooster, evade, evade!” Maverick yelled back, quickly turning around to help.

“I can’t shake them! They’re on me! They’re on me!” Rooster warned, going through evasive maneuvers.

Maverick didn’t hesitate. He just moved.

A thousand thoughts were flying through his head as he sped towards Rooster. Goose’s face. Carole’s face. Cora’s face. Nickie’s face. Oh, God, Nickie. Racing to protect his best friend’s son and his grandson’s father that he barely knew, Maverick hurried to get into position.

Rooster had to live. He had to live. He had to make it right with Cora. He had to make it right with Nickie. He had to live. He had to survive.

The sensors in front of Rooster started to beep aggressively, warning him that the SAMs were getting closer. Maverick yanked back on the joy stick, using the cobra maneuver to fly up above Rooster. Slamming his fist onto his flare button, Maverick released the flares behind Rooster, protecting him from one of the SAMs.

But Maverick’s own sensors started to blare as the second SAM flew forward.

“Mav!” Rooster screamed out in a panic.

Maverick grunted as the SAM hit him directly in the back of his aircraft. His plane broke apart and he started hurtling towards the ground in a great ball of fire. Sensors beeped all around Maverick as he released the joy stick, submitting to his fate.

And just before it all went back Maverick swore that he heard Nickie’s voice calling out to him.

~~~~~

“Penny said that she’s taking Amelia on a sailing trip,” Cora told Nickie softly as they packed up his gear to head back home. “Did you want to go?”

“No,” Nickie replied quietly, shaking his head. “I think that I just want to stay home.”

“We’ll do whatever you want to do, okay?” Cora assured Nickie, forcing a small smile.

“Do you think we could get those burgers at the diner that Gramps likes?” Nickie asked as he opened the passenger door.

“I thought that you hated those burgers,” Cora replied quietly, staring over at her son. “You always said that they were too greasy.”

“I know, but . . . Gramps always like them,” Nickie returned softly.

Trying to not let her lips wobble, Cora forced a smile and grabbed Nickie’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. Turning on the car, she faced forward to try and get control over her emotions.

“We’ll get some burgers then. For your Gramps.”

~~~~~

Maverick sprinted through the thick snow, powered by sheer determination. Every few steps he took, Maverick did a quick calculation about how much farther Rooster was and about how long it would take to get to him. His first aid training ran through his brain too.

Was Rooster hurt? Did he land safely? Did he eject safely? Maverick didn’t have the answer.

Spotting Rooster upright and kneeling in the snow, shoving down his parachute, Maverick felt new energy course through his veins. Rooster was alive. And he wasn’t hurt too bad based on the way that he was kneeling. He was alright. He was going to survive his ejection.

“You alright!?” Maverick yelled, hopping over a snow bank.

“Yeah, I’m good. You alright?” Rooster called back, right before Maverick pushed him straight into a pile of snow. “Jesus! What the hell!?”

Rooster yanked his helmet off and shoved it into the snow. Maverick slipped his off as well before turning to give Rooster the scolding of a lifetime.

“What are you doing here!?”

“What am I doing here!?” Rooster squawked back indignantly as he stood up.

“You think I took that missile for you so you could be down here with me!? You should be back on the carrier by now!”

“I saved your life!” Rooster snapped back.

“I saved your life! That’s the whole point.” Shaking his head incredulously, Maverick turned back to Rooster. “What the hell were you even thinking!?”

“You told me not to think!”

Maverick didn’t have a response for that, simply breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Rooster nodded sarcastically, throwing his arms up in the air, before slamming them back at his sides. Both Maverick and Rooster breathed heavily, looking around the forest for any hostiles, before turning back to each other.

“You were supposed to go back to Cora and Nickie,” Maverick sighed, staggering a bit. Squatting in the snow, Maverick looked up at Rooster, who stared back evenly at him. “You were supposed to go back and make it right.”

“I am going to,” Rooster vowed, straightening up. He looked around the forest again before returning his gaze to Maverick. “But it wasn’t going to work without you.”

Maverick let out a breath, dropped his head down onto his hand. Rubbing his face as he tried to catch his breath properly after sprinting a couple miles at his age, Maverick picked his head up to find Rooster already offering him a hand. Taking it, Maverick accepted Rooster’s help up and dusted some of the snow off of his flight suit.  

“She’s going to kill us when she finds out,” Maverick stated, glancing around the forest.

“If she finds out,” Rooster suggested, causing Maverick to nod in agreement.  

“Well, it’s good to see you,” Maverick replied with a small smile.

“It’s good to see you too,” Rooster returned, setting his hands on his hips. “So, what’s the plan?”

~~~~~

Cora looked up from her computer when one of the nurses at her office rushed into the room that she was charting in. Immediately assuming that something was wrong with one of the patients, Cora leapt to her feet, ready for action.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You have to come see. Room 22.”

Cora quickly rushed down the hall, overtaking the junior nurse. Opening the door to the patient room, Cora stepped inside, expecting to see a swarm of doctors and nurses, but all she saw was her dad, dressed in his flight suit, waiting for her on the patient bed.

And in that moment, Cora wasn’t thirty-four. She was a little kid all over again.

Letting out a choked sob, Cora raced across the room and threw herself into her dad’s waiting arms, completely unaware that her coworkers were filming the whole thing. And she was even less aware that there was another surprise guest waiting for her in the corner. Unable to help the tears of relief, Cora let her dad rock her back and forth.

“I’m alright,” Maverick chuckled, hugging his daughter to his chest. “Just a few bumps and bruises.”

“I know that you’re hiding injuries from me, but I don’t even care right now,” Cora sobbed, unwilling to let go of her dad. “You’re home. You’re home.”

“We’re home.”

Releasing her dad, Cora wiped some of her tears away and turned to see Rooster standing in the corner, also dressed in his flight suit. It took her a second, a painful second where Rooster wondered if she was even happy to see him, before Cora took off again. Running into his arms, Cora buried her face into Rooster’s shoulder, and Rooster quickly returned the hug.

Wrapping her arms around him tightly, Cora breathed in Rooster’s cologne, soothing herself just a bit more. They were home. They were safe. They were alive. There wouldn’t be a funeral. There wouldn’t be a burial. They were here.

“You came back,” Cora whispered shakily, causing Rooster to hug her tighter.

“I wasn’t going to leave you guys. Not again.”

Cora nodded against him, letting out a shaky breath. Maverick smiled at Cora and Rooster’s embrace as he stood up. Cora and Rooster broke away, both turning to Maverick.

“So, how’re we going to surprise Nickie?” Maverick asked, wearing that iconic mischievous smirk.

~~~~~

Nickie walked up to the side door and unlocked it, heading inside after taking the bus home from school. He locked the door behind him and went about his usual after-school routine as if it was a normal day. Dropping his backpack onto one of the chairs, Nickie turned for the fridge to grab a snack. He opened the fridge door and frowned when he found a note waiting for him with his mom’s handwriting.

“Turn around?” he read aloud, confused, before doing as the note said.

Nickie had a split second to register who was standing behind him before sprinting the last few steps over to his grandfather. Maverick laughed as Nickie had to bend a little to give him a hug and rubbed his back as Nickie quickly sobbed into his shoulder. Cora held a hand to her mouth, happy tears coming to her eyes as Nickie reunited with his grandfather.  

“You’re alive,” Nickie croaked out, hugging his grandfather just a little tighter.

“Well, apparently, I refuse to die,” Maverick returned, causing Nickie to laugh a bit shakily.

“Does Mom know that you’re here?”

“Yeah, she’s right there.”

Nickie looked up from his grandfather’s shoulder to see his mom standing there with tears in her eyes. Cora waved to Nickie before he looked beyond her and spotted another figure standing there. Rooster stayed back, knowing that Nickie didn’t exactly view him as a dad but more of some kind of random stranger that bumped into his life unexpectedly.

But after Nickie gave his mom a quick hug in greeting, Nickie turned to face Rooster on his own. Rooster stood a bit nervously as Nickie stopped a few paces away from him. He wasn’t sure what Nickie’s reaction was going to be to his presence. But after what seemed like a century passed, Nickie reached forward and gave Rooster a hug.

Rooster froze for a moment before hugging Nickie back even stronger, far too emotional to do anything else. It was the first time that he held his son. His kid. And his son willingly hugged him. Rooster couldn’t help but let a few tears out during the moment. And Nickie, for his part, didn’t seem to want to let Rooster go either.

Amelia was right, Nickie realized with some apprehension. He really would have beat himself up for the rest of his life if he didn’t talk to Rooster before he left on the mission. Not that it mattered now, because Rooster was here. And based on the way that Rooster was hugging him back, Nickie had a feeling that Rooster was around to stay.

Cora shared a smile with Maverick as they watched Nickie and Rooster embrace for the first time ever. Maverick squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as she dried her eyes again.

~~~~~

There was a cook out on the beach with the whole Dagger crew in a post-mission celebration. Penny pulled out a grill from somewhere in the Hard Deck and Maverick was nominated to do the grilling for the whole team, which he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

The rest of the Dagger Squad and their guests were spread out over the patch of sand, talking and chatting with each other and simply enjoying the San Diego sun. Cora stood to the side of the volleyball court a short walk from the grill, smiling to herself while she watched Nickie and Rooster work together to try and beat Harvard and Yale.

“Ms. Mitchell?” a voice called from her left, causing Cora to turn.

“Admiral Simpson,” she returned, straightening up subconsciously as Cyclone stood beside her.

“It has come to my attention that your son, Nickie, wants to become an aviator,” Cyclone began, causing Cora to pause for a moment.

“Yes, I believe that he does,” she replied quietly, fiddling with her necklace.

“Well, if he’s anything like his family members before him, he will one day make it to Top Gun.”

“That is his dream,” Cora echoed softly.

“Can you do me one favor, Ms. Mitchell?” Cyclone asked her after a moment.

“Sure,” Cora responded, turning to face Cyclone fully.

“Please inform me the second that your son gets his wings. So that I can immediately put in my retirement notice,” Cyclone emphasized, causing Cora to bite her cheek to not burst out laughing. She simply nodded instead, trying to hold it in. “Thank you.”

When Cyclone walked off, Cora let out a quiet laugh to herself. Shaking her head, she turned back to watch the volleyball game. But it seemed that between being Maverick’s daughter and the mother of Rooster’s secret love child, she was a popular person around the Dagger Squad.

“You must be the lovely Cora that we’ve heard so much about,” Hangman drawled, walking over to her.

“And you must be Hangman,” she returned, gazing at him curiously.

She didn’t get much of the details about the mission—considering it was top secret and all that—but the way that Maverick talked about Hangman led her to believe that something happened on the mission that fixed Maverick’s and even Rooster’s perspective on him.

But that grin that Hangman only told her one thing—he was trouble. Luckily, Cora was a Mitchell. She was natural at being trouble. It was in her genes.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he stated, offering her a hand to shake.

“Likewise,” she returned, shaking his hand politely.

“You know, I have to say that you are far more beautiful than anyone described you as,” Hangman flirted, causing Cora to cock an eyebrow.

“How badly do you want Rooster to lose this game?” she asked, tilting her chin up a bit.

“About twenty bucks worth. Forty, actually,” Hangman replied, waving over to Coyote and Phoenix.

Phoenix shook her head in disbelief, probably waiting for Cora to knee Hangman in the balls, while Coyote seemed to be struggling to contain his laughter. Remaining poised, Cora turned back to Hangman as he continued with his explanation.

“That is, if Rooster comes and tries to rip my head off,” Hangman replied with a wink, causing Cora to smirk to herself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Rooster.”

“Your dad’s all the way—ow!”

The volleyball smacked right into the back of Hangman’s head, causing him to whirl around, rubbing his head. Nickie, who was originally wearing a look of death, immediately put on an innocent smile when Cora and Hangman turned to him and waved sarcastically.

Nickie, after all, was a mama’s boy. A mama’s boy who knew that men liked to lurk around his mom.

“Sorry!” Nickie called over.

“It slipped because of the sunscreen!” Rooster covered for Nickie, holding a thumbs up.

“Sure, it did,” Cora replied, shaking her head. Turning back to Hangman, she offered a smile. “I think that means that you only get twenty.”

“Great shot, Nickie!” Penny praised, clapping loudly for him.

“Any chance that you’d like a drink?” Hangman asked, trying to make just a little more money.

Up until Rooster hit the volleyball, which had rolled back to him after hitting Hangman in the head, into Hangman’s back, causing Hangman to roll his eyes. Rooster waved innocently, not unlike his son did moments before, as Cora shot him a look.

“Sunscreen again!”

~~~~~

Eventually, the teams broke for food. Cora sat on the beach chair that she brought along, chatting with Bob and Phoenix, when Rooster slowly approached her. Phoenix nudged Bob in the side and they both made lame excuses before heading off, leaving Cora and Rooster alone.

“Is this seat taken?” Rooster asked, gesturing to the seat next to her.

“It looks like it’s about to be,” Cora replied, nodding towards it.

Rooster sat down and the two of them shared a small smile for a moment. It was still a little awkward between them, and there was no way really around that, but it was getting better. It was getting more and more like old times. Bradley was reminding Cora more of the Bradley she knew before Carole died, and that in of itself made her so happy.

“They asked us if we had a preference for where we wanted to be stationed,” Rooster began, causing Cora to sober up a bit.

“And?”

“I talked to Cyclone about it. He couldn’t guarantee North Island, but he said that he would make sure that I was in California,” Rooster explained, causing Cora to smile and nod. “And I know that you have work and Nickie has school, but we could drive out to where we grew up and show Nickie all of that and . . . my parents and that sort of stuff.”

“I think that Nickie would really like that,” Cora agreed, smiling softly.

“And you? Would you like that?” Rooster asked quietly.

“I’d love that,” Cora stated, causing Rooster to grin.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I would,” Cora repeated, smiling over at Rooster, who beamed right back at her.

Maverick watched Rooster and Cora chat over by themselves, relived that the two of them were talking and seemed to be getting along again. Penny nudged him with her arm, causing Maverick to turn to her. She pointed over at the volleyball court, where Nickie was holding up the ball.

“Hey, Gramps! One more game?” Nickie asked, grinning mischievously.

“Easy game!” Fanboy heckled, causing Maverick to laugh and slowly get to his feet.

“Alright, one more game, Nickie,” Maverick replied, jogging over to his grandson. “But we can’t go easy on them, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nickie agreed, smirking that iconic Mitchell smirk.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

A.N. So, that's it! The main part anyways! Epilogue is inbound, and should be posted soon! Thank you to everyone who read this series and especially those who reblogged and commented on all of the different chapters! I hope that you enjoyed it!

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[saintobio]

LOST WORLD

“when the end approaches, but the apocalypse is long lived.”

pairing. satoru gojou, reader

genre. angst, post apocalypse au

warnings. unedited, gore, death, zombies infectious diseases

Do you remember what life was before Satoru Gojou?

It was sad. Miserable. Pathetic in every sense. The world had no meaning, and existing felt like a punishment rather than a privilege. The things you were doing had no purpose. They were repetitive, soulless, and depressing. Each time you’d find yourself staring outside of the window, the skies were becoming gloomier. The miasma of decay was getting thicker. There was scarcity in food and water. Yet, there was no option to go outside of your abandoned home when an eerie fog with the acrid smell of rotting flesh and blood were everywhere haunting you.

At one point, rather than trying to survive in a world that no longer welcomed you, you believed it would have been easier to just perish. Die at long last just like everyone else you knew. The people who once had a family, a lover, a pet, and a friend—they used to be people like you. Alive and breathing under your warm skin and fully-functioning set of human organs. But now, they were the opposite of what you once knew. They had become ghastly, tottering creatures looking at you with their frenzied, colorless eyes, and their putrid, saliva-filled mouths. In fact, when a couple of them managed to break into your home, staggering to chase you around the house with the rabid eagerness to masticate on your innards, you thought of finally just letting things be. After all, no one was left. You were probably the only living being in an area full of decomposing, white-blanched corpses. With their wretched appearance and fetid smell, the last bits of humor inside of you wanted to go along and mimic their series of raspy growls. You were dying, anyway. Finally.

You knew you were dying. You anticipated how their disease would soon be inching its way into your flesh.

That, with no resistance, you would let yourself be one of them.

That was your plan. That was… until every single zombie in your vicinity was sniped with a shotgun. You could barely move as bits of flesh, blood, and sinew flew all over the place. Their skulls—busted. Their entrails—falling out. You would have screamed in disgust after seeing maggots crawl out of their eyes, but then your eyes caught sight of the hero who saved the poor damsel in distress. His arctic white hair, electric blue eyes, and porcelain skin. There was no sign of a single disease in his body.

Damn. How could one person shoot a shotgun with such precision and accuracy? But more importantly, how much of a cliche was it for him to show up and be your savior at the brink of your death?

“Satoru Gojou,” he’d easily introduced himself, pulling his makeshift mask down while standing tall behind the army of foul-smelling beasts that he just massacred. What a cool man. What a dream. What a… what a… hold on, wasn’t he too good to be true?

“I must be dead,” you even joked at the time despite your struggle to catch your breath, “There’s no way a random guy would just come up here and save me like this.”

One smirk from him was all it took to completely win you over. “You don’t look dead to me.” And then a hand to help you up. “Come on, we gotta leave this place.”

And so you did. You were brought to a safe haven that you never thought existed. You were acquainted with people who had a beating heart and an uninfected brain. You were given the golden ticket to cohabit with them in a secured camp and an acceptable living condition. Everything was rationed, but you had no right to ask for much in a situation like that. All you could offer was your gratefulness, and every time you saw your godly, angel-faced hero, you could not help but think of how much you owe your living life to him.

So much so that you would think about ways to approach him without becoming a bother. He was your typical popular guy, expected by the others to rescue their lives. You were just one of the many. He had the virtue of a soldier, ready for war just to make sure that his people were safe and sound. Maybe he actually was in the army before, which could explain the reason for his expertise in guns and survival. There was no way for you to know when you barely had the chance to talk to him, and sincerely thank him at the very least, for saving your life when you almost lost it.

But then, he must have heard the same thing from the countless women who followed his tail each time he arrived back in the camp. The ladies would scramble on their feet just to make sure that they were tending to his needs; feeding him warm meals, treating his wounds, making him laugh.

You see, crushing on a stranger was a ridiculous idea, especially in the middle of an apocalyptic world. You kept that thought in your head as you stepped through a pile of mud, cursing under your breath while continuing towards the pathway to the bonfire. No, you didn’t make it there. Because someone had smoothly pulled you by the belt loop, dragging you behind the tree before he revealed his most admiring self.

“S-Satoru,” you stammered without a reason. Or maybe you did have a reason. He was good-looking enough that your thoughts were becoming jumbled. A hot mess, truly, with his mop of white hair and his piercing blue eyes. Not to mention his parted, pink lips and his slightly exposed toned chest.

“You’re really out here pretending I don’t exist, huh?” There was that playful tone and that goddamned attractive smirk. With his hand moving to your lower back and his forearm resting on the trunk of the tree, you almost let out a swoon. “I was waiting for you to approach me.”

You turned your face away a little, only to a certain degree so he wouldn’t notice the heat on your cheeks. “That’s funny ‘cause… since that day, I’ve actually been waiting, too.”

“Hmm?” he tilted his head and deepened his gaze.

“I mean, waiting for an opportunity,” you clarified, releasing an awkward chuckle, “to talk to you and thank you. You’re just always surrounded by people, so…”

He straightened his posture as he pulled away and began nodding his head, as if he was connecting the dots in his head. “You can always walk up to me. Anytime,” he assured, “I’d actually love to know you more.”

You knew what everyone else might be thinking; ‘Seriously? You’re having a love affair in this situation?’

Well, if you were going to meet death, anyway, why should you settle being a miserable, lonely woman?

“You’re a miserable, lonely woman,” spoke one of the survivors in your cabin, Meredith, glaring at you with her arms crossed across your bunker. “That, or you just truly lost it.”

While she was laughing and moving her index finger in circles beside her head, the other survivor was decent enough to shush her, telling her to stop throwing insults towards you. “Quit doing that. She needs time to adjust,” said Shoko Ieiri, “It’s traumatizing out there, you know?”

“Yeah, but she still needs to help us with some errands here! We’re not living here for free. We have duties. Ugh… I’m so sick of cleaning the nasty toilets.”

“She’ll come around. Be patient with her.”

“She’s been here for two months! She can’t just stay in her bunker all day and do nothing!”

“Meredith—”

“Hey, lunatic!” her amber eyes bore into you. “Wake the fuck up and get your ass workin’. If you really wanna survive, you need to do your job.”

You took a deep breath and sighed. “Can I… Can I see Satoru first?”

Meredith let out a groan. “Here we go again.”

“Wh-Why?” you asked, frantically. “I just… I wanna talk to him. I wanna thank him for saving me.”

This time, it was Ieiri who sat at the corner of your bed, patting your back in a soothing motion. “Satoru is…” she hesitated. “He’s not here, Y/N. He never was.”

As if lightning struck your entire body. “What do you mean? What do you—? He was here. He was just talking to me last night!”

“I know, I know.” Ieiri sent you a look of sympathy. Sympathy that you didn’t really ask for. “I understand it’s been a difficult time. It’s been a really traumatizing experience, but trust me, everything’s going to be okay.”

You held onto her arms as tears pooled your eyes. All those voices in your head, the pain in your heart… “S-Stop. What are you saying, Ieiri? He was… He was with me.”

“He’s dead,” she said the very words you refused to hear. “He didn’t survive the first wave of zombies that infested our town.”

“But…” You shook your head in hard refusal. “But he was there, he rescued me.”

“It was Suguru who did,” Ieiri confirmed, reaching what appears to be a bottle of Fanapt pills under your pillow. “Satoru’s not with us anymore. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for your loss.”

[talktomeinclexa]

Days of Crisis

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Natural disasters, Minor character death

Status: WIP

Summary: Sheriff Lexa Woods’s life is turned upside down when a hurricane hits her small Californian town, bringing in its midst a beautiful geologist as smart as she’s brave. But when said geologist returns a few months later to study Polis’s geographical situation and assess the risks in case more natural disasters occur, neither can deny the attraction anymore. Will they manage to open up before a series of catastrophes puts their lives at risk?

***

Chapter 1: Meeting in a Hurricane

“A hurricane is coming. Please remain inside and barricade your windows. I repeat; a hurricane is coming. Please—”

The car slowly driving around the main streets of Polis, CA, swerved to avoid a flying tile. Sheriff Lexa Woods swore under her breath before bringing the megaphone’s mic back to her mouth as if nothing had happened.

“Please remain inside. Do not go out. Barricade your windows and stay safe.”

Lexa let go of her mic and squinted through her windshield. She had hoped until the last minute hurricane Becca would deviate and miss her town, but no such luck. The storm hit with frightening accuracy, bringing squalls and a rain so heavy that her wipers couldn’t keep up and she could barely see where she was heading.

Worry grew in the pit of her stomach as the wind intensified and debris flew around. Her children were at school, and she wished she could be with them, making sure they were safe. But she had a job to do, stubborn people to warn. Besides, she reminded herself, Aden and Madi were as safe in school as they would be at home if not more. Their teachers would know to keep them away from the windows.

On the plus side, most of her fellow Polisians remained diligently inside, and she had to order surprisingly few people to seek shelter. Harassing Mayor Queen to sound the storm alarm had paid off. It was almost worth the passive-aggressive comments she would receive for days to come for telling Her Majesty how to rule her city.

A few broken branches landed near her car, making her curse. Hopefully, her deputies were safe and back at the station. There wasn’t much more they could do until the hurricane abated. Getting themselves hurt out of sheer stubbornness would serve no one.

Exhausted, Lexa turned around and headed back for the city hall, repeating her message on the megaphone.

She was crossing Forest Street and Main when something unusual caught her attention and made her hit the brakes.

In the center of a mostly empty parking lot, an obnoxious armored vehicle occupied two spots. Bigger than a Ford truck, with spikes dug into the ground — the owner would have to pay for the repair — and a turret. It looked like one of those trucks Lexa had seen on video, the kinds driven by adrenaline junkies hoping to go viral on the Internet.

Fuming, she turned on her megaphone. “Please exit your vehicle and seek shelter immediately. I repeat; please exit your vehicle and seek shelter in the nearest building.”

Lexa assumed she had been mistaken when she received no answer. She would have resumed her journey if a tuft of fair hair visible through the turret window hadn’t suddenly betrayed a presence.

“Oh, that does it.”

Keep reading

[tired-needs-sleep]

80% accuracy isn't good enough

i think i'm just obsessed with your ocs @fangaminghell eheh. hope you like it

note: mild descriptors of blood; major desolation spoilers are mentioned but not outright said.

-

they weren't aware they had been dreaming until they stopped. their eyes flew open to see a wall. back in their room- they must have fallen asleep.

they sat up, hissing once they put too much pressure on their left arm.

right.

she huffed. now was a very inconvenient time to have their dominant arm (and hand) out of commission. they just had to get hurt. they should've predicted that it would've gone for them as well.

they sighed this time, and glanced out the window. it was still dark outside.. and very quiet.. now wasn't a bad time for something productive, right? it's not like they would be going back to sleep anytime soon..

maybe the others will actually let them do something if they see how well they're doing. if they're recovering quickly… perhaps they won't worry as much. and they wouldn't have to sit around doing nothing!

yes! they just needed to stop babying their arm.

-

again.

they gripped the handles of their daggers and rushed forward. before them was a moss-covered rock, their target being the edge of the moss. all they had to do was slice some of it off. the blade cut it easily, but it was too much. they hadn't cut exactly where they wanted to. too far up.

that wasn't good enough. again.

this time they went too low. struck where they previously needed to. she gritted her teeth. it had to be perfect– an inch, half of one, it could be the difference. it could be the–

the daggers breifly dissipated before becoming solid again. they shook their head. again.

this time they didn't think too hard and used their left arm. they again hissed at the pain of moving it too quickly, but when they sliced.. it was closer. still not good enough, but closer. 

still, it was painful. she took a deep breath- it didn't matter. it shouldn't matter. pain or not, they will leave with their accuracy perfected. they had to. 

she raised her left arm to strike again, but paused. someone else was in the cave. at this hour?

… it didn't matter. 

again, and again, and again. they kept chipping away at the moss. they kept missing. they were getting there… but it was a slow process. too slow. they'd be here all day at this rate! they tightened the grip around their daggers. whatever it takes, right? whatever. it. takes. they could explain to the others later if they asked. 

she regarded the moss again, picking out a section to target. they lifted their left arm, pointedly ignoring the urge to keep it stiff in favor of getting it right-

“..sara? what are you-?”

they started. their daggers dissolved into pure energy, then fizzled out of existence. she resorted to clenching their fists while they looked at whoever just broke their concentration, but their hardened gaze softened once they recognized the person.

“..asra. how long have you been here?”

“shouldn’t you already know?”

“i wasn't keeping track.”

“why? it shouldn't be this easy to sneak up on you.”

“i was focused on something else.”

asra looked at the rock behind her, then to the ground, littered with strips of moss from their earlier rounds. they pick one up.

“were you training?”

“yes.”

“you're supposed to be resting.”

“but i feel better. i can work my arm now.”

there's some silence. asra does not look impressed. “...you're bleeding again.”

she looked at the arm in question, which was indeed bleeding- it must have reopened at some point. the blood had begun to stain the ground around where they had been, but- that was good! they could work perfectly fine despite that! they could help out again.

“see? i- i didn't even notice that! you don't have to worry about me now. i can work and be perfectly fine. i just need to perfect my accuracy and-”

“sara dear, you should give it a rest for today.”

“but i’m not doing anything-”

“no buts. you can help out by resting like everyone is telling you to.”

she shook her head, turning on their heel to face the moss rock once more. “there’s no time for me to just sit around and do nothing. its not going to just wait for me to get better… and.. i could have died- you could have died. it's- it was too close. i won't let that happen again.”

asra crossed their arms. “you won't be able to do anything if you lose feeling in your arm again.”

“i have another arm.” nevermind the fact that they were now trembling. they had waited long enough, they should keep training. right arm raised in an attempt to retrieve at least one of their lost daggers from before-

asra had other plans. they gently grabbed her raised arm. “haven’t you trained enough for today?”

“no.” she again gritted her teeth, trying to break free, but they held on fast. 

“have you even eaten?”

…they didn't respond to that, instead she dug their foot into the ground and used a little more of their body weight to try and escape.

“kisaragi. really? what if cande finds out?”

“he doesn't need to know.”

“yes she does.”

“..i was going to eat afterwards.”

“and when would that be? when you collapse from overworking yourself? what then?”

sara huffed. asra, unimpressed, sharply nudged the back of her knees with one of their own, too quickly for them to react. predictably, her legs gave out. she yelped, but before she knew it, asra had scooped them up.

“h-hey! what'd you do that for?! put me down!”

“you weren't going to stop. am i wrong?”

“but…”

asra started walking towards the exit. “ah-ah-ah. you're resting for the rest of the day. and yes, cande will be hearing about this.”

“no! don't tell her…”

“she'll be upset with us both if she finds out on his own.”

“but he's going to be upset and start crying or something.”

“he's worried, like the rest of us are.”

they fell silent until they had entered the tunnel leading back to the manor. asra let her down.

“did you really need to pick me up like that?” sara crossed their arms.

“if i did it normally i would have needed to let go and i wasn't going to take the risk of you doing something reckless.”

again she didn't have a retort for that, so she resorted to pouting.

“you're the worst! i hate you.”

“no you don't.”

“...no, i don't..”

asra started towards the end of the tunnel, and sara followed with a cough.

“hey…”

asra stopped.

“..thanks. f-for looking out for me, i mean.” 

asra offered them a small smile. “of course, dear. what would i do without my cat of a best friend?”

“i am not a cat-”

“debatable, darling.”

[maevelin]

Re:bridgerton am I the only one who hated the makeup this season? It was soo heavy for no reason? I know historical accuracy flew out the window but this was just me in 2015 watching youtube Beauty community and baking everything! It was a lot but also not that good, I feel they did Nicola dirty lol like her makeup for the premiere for example which again was full glam was leagues better than whatever was happening in the shot

To be honest, I didn't pay much attention to that as I don't pay much attention to such things in Bridgerton. Like I go with the flow...no accuracy so no accuracy. Go for it.

I will have to say however, that for some reason it was the perfect nails that made me scoff and not the heavy make-up.

I do not even know why but yeah. lol

[holly-fixation]

One White Wing

Summary: Accidentally ending up back in time using the Lifestream, Sephiroth makes it his mission to find Jenova immediately. Since he crawled out of a reactor core, the first place he checked was Shinra Tower, flying through the 68th floor windows with his massive black wing. 

What he found wasn't the body of Mother. He found himself, young, cowering, terrified, with a bloody wing out of his back. A white wing. 

Inspired by This art by @Waldein_forest on Twitter. 

Please enjoy!

…

Floating. Drifting. Resting along the tides of life, the blood of the planet. Building strength. Building again. No more failures. Not again. Fixing memories. Finding mistakes, all the way back to the beginning. Change it. Change it. 

Change it. 

* * * 

Who could do something like this?

Why?

How?

The report left too many unanswered questions. The few answers it managed to give only worried everyone more. It went somewhere, it escaped, and it’s too strong to stop. 

But the reactors were good. The energy they provided powered the entire city, upper plate, under plate, sector zero’s massive tower and all. Why would anyone attack one? Especially from the inside?

No one knew what it was. 

Video footage of the attack was glitched, discolored, and distorted as what looked to be a human with long white hair and long dark clothes climbing out of the mako at the bottom of the reactor core, dripping in the modified green essence of The Planet. Any attempt at identification through enhancing the image in resulted in crippling corruption, destroying the recording beyond even basic recognition. 

This creature, person, whatever it was, tore through every security measure in the core. Turrets, destroyed by long range magic, barely a bullet or beam fired at this unfathomable enemy. Sentinels, cut to pieces before they could even react to its falling limbs, left as nothing but cleanly cut scrap metal with sparks of failing batteries, hoping for a connection to finish the loop of crumbling energy. That was the most terrifying fact: all lasting damage was clean, all slices and slashes of the ineffable blade with perfect precision and accuracy. Utterly perfect, not a single wasted attack, always hitting its mark.

After decimating any attempt to take it down, only a single tilted camera remained to record the attacker, tilted and unseen. A massive black wing broke out of its back with ease before it shot into the air, a single flap leaving black feathers floating delicately down from the updraft. Only a few workers saw where this creature’s focus targeted after escaping. It flew straight for Shinra Tower. 

That creature was Sephiroth, after his second failure to Cloud Strife. After his remnants failed. After they cured his virus. After The Planet began healing again.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong. The moment he pulled himself out of the Lifestream, his connection to Mother wavered, held together like a string of gelatin, easily mailable, easily folded, easily broken, easily torn apart. He needed her, before he lost the tie completely. He searched for her without question, and after discovering his current location, he flew to the first place they moved her body after he learned his truth. 

Last time, they contained her body in the lab near the top floor. There’s no reason he couldn’t find her again by starting at the top. And the helicopter pad was all but an invitation to do so. The tower was still standing. Standing again. Midgar itself sustained and maintained its previous visage, all buildings perfect and all plates supported, no debris, no destruction, no pain. He didn’t even drop the sector seven plate, but he knew it happened. How was it all back? How was everything back in this city of despair? 

He took a single look at the wreckage of his escape, a single, massive sign the only proof he needed. 

There it stood, in white letters along the near collapsing wall, “01”. The first reactor Cloud and his meaningless friends destroyed, before they even knew he returned. 

He’d figure out ‘when’ he was later, as soon as he had Mother safe and sound. He couldn’t reach her through Reunion. He needed to find her physically, but this time was far beyond his goal, far beyond the day after Meteor struck the planet. He did not change his trajectory. His best and closest bet still remained atop that tower, landing exactly in front of the window behind the president’s desk. Without hesitation, he slashed the glass to nothing in a single beam that sliced the chair clean in half.

To his disappointment, the sitting president had already been escorted out of the building, or at least the office itself from his little attack at the reactor, so no satisfactory blood spilled on the way to Mother. Inconvenient, but nothing more. As he traveled down the building, nothing he saw determined the current year. He vaguely recognized the reactor from Cloud’s memories. Most of his consciousness, due to his years floating in the Lifestream after Meteor failed, left his own memories all but incinerated, vaguely recognizable as what they were before dissipating to ash at too great a touch. Though it didn’t matter. Only Mother mattered.

For now, he lost context. But he’d get it back with Her at his side.

No attempt at security succeeded. Lockdown doors cleanly opened. Monsters, machines, and personnel all met the same fate as the reactor as he continued through to the lab, carving through the building like warm butter. Unstoppable, in their eyes. Good, because at the very least, the personnel were smart enough to run with their lives intact.

He entered the lab.

And she wasn’t in the pod. There was no pod.

Was she in Nibelheim?

Then what the hell was he feeling? Because the moment he entered the lab, he felt something. Too unclear. Indecipherable over the alarms and pulsing red lights. At very least, if it connected to Reunion in any way, he could use it as a compass to find her. Or he’d make it one. Whatever it took. 

He pulled that connecting cord as he followed it to the back hallways near the examination rooms, all machines still pristine and primed for human experimentation. Without a thought, he broke the lock to the door only to prevent damaging whatever was inside, at least for now, and opened it.

Yet instead of the body he craved to see again, he saw a child, six or seven years old, shaking and trembling with a beginner’s short sword in its left hand. It tried to hide its fear and pain with an attempt at a threatening gaze. But its sky blue, snake-like eyes glowed with terror, its silver hair and pale gray medical gown stained with splashes of blood.

No matter how many memories he threw away, he couldn’t forget that boy.

Despite the sudden realization of who this child was, the only detail that claimed his attention was the bloody wing out of its back. Quivering. Wet. Bloody. 

White. 

* * * 

The little boy couldn’t stop trembling, no matter how hard he tried to will himself calm, no matter how much training he had. The alarms, the lights, the destruction, …the wing. Whatever was coming or going was too strong for him. He had no idea what to do, but if this thing found him, he needed to escape. He heard it tearing through the lab. It was coming closer. 

The door was locked. He wasn’t strong enough to break it open. Not right now. The sword on his wall, the training sword for adults, reflected the red lights with the only hope he had of defending himself. He struggled to wield it as he backed against the farthest corner from the door, the newly born wing stinging in protest at any and all physical contact. 

It hurt. It hurt so much. It drained everything he had when it broke its own opening through his skin, while he screamed and stomped and banged with everything he had to make it stop. 

Minutes old, completely fresh, and with this attack, the lab technicians didn’t test it. They didn’t find him. They didn’t help him.

Did they abandon him to whatever monster this was?

Was this a new test?

Or was he really going to die here?

He didn’t even hear Hojo anywhere nearby. Hojo would jump at the chance to test something new on him. Of course he didn’t want a new test, but with every shred of his body he did not want to be alone with whatever this attacker was. 

He shook his head to regain his important thoughts, his focus. He needed to be ready for a fight. He needed to destroy whatever was about to attack. 

He swore he saw the single blade slash through the lock he couldn’t break in a single instant before it opened.

He almost jumped to attack, but it hurt too much. His wing. His wing. This wing. It pulsed so much pain through him. He couldn’t strike first. 

Then he saw the attacker, and everything changed. 

A tall man, with a black wing, silver hair, and eyes just like his own, like looking in a distorted mirror. 

Like looking at… Did… did someone finally…?

“...I’m you, from the future,” His deep voice rumbled under the alarms, after a few seconds of observation. “And we’re leaving right now.”

…what?

He assumed this man was his father. That at least made some sense, some family finally coming to save him. But, himself? How much less likely could it get? This had to be a test. Another experiment. 

One he had absolutely no idea what the outcome should be. 

“Don’t give me that look,” the man spat. 

He guessed he showed more confusion than he thought.

“Do you really want to stay here?”

Well… this was the only thing he ever knew.

That didn’t mean he liked it. But he wasn’t stupid either. 

“...Tell me something no one else knows…” He struggled, nearly stuttering over his words. 

The man before him blinked once. “...No matter what you are told, you crave a mother with everything you have.”

No truer words cursed him beyond that moment. It was real. He was real. That was the feeling he never identified, but always hoped for. 

“...okay…”

A small part of him believed the odd tale because of their similarities. Hair. Eyes. Left handed. Those were the only three things he could confirm. Every other detail was too different, too aged for a little boy to recognize. 

He still didn’t want to put his sword down, but the weight of a single sheet of paper could push it to the floor in his current state. 

Sephiroth, the older one, held out a single hand in silence, staying exactly where he was in the doorway, while the young one hesitated, taking extremely timid, careful steps. But the moment the child placed a hand in his, he scooped him up instantly. 

“This will be quick,” was the only explanation the older one gave as he swiftly carried the boy out of the lab, smoothly traveling as if none of the security measures were in place.

The little boy didn’t know what to do. No one ever held him like this, even though this was just to blaze through the last of security to the nearest window, just to get him out of the way. It wasn’t caring, but it wasn’t harmful either. The moment they took flight, he even dropped his sword to cling tightly to his savior, praying he wouldn’t be dropped. Praying this wasn’t completely a dream as he hid his face from the remains of shattered glass and rapid wind, his eyes shut, his bangs protecting his face as the black winged flew flew like a comet out of the city.

He didn’t open them again until he was on solid ground.

* * * 

Sephiroth should have flown farther. He meant to. He tried to. But he knew from the moment he crawled out of the Lifestream something was wrong. And the boy only proved it. 

Jenova here wasn’t the same as she was in his time. 

The two of them landed in the planes beyond Kalm, only so he could focus on what was happening to him rather than a simple break like his young self assumed.

He was weaker. A few hours of flying with this wing should be enough to reach the southern tip of the continent. But they were far too north. Maybe about 12 hours by car away from Midgar. What was happening to him? Why was he…

…degrading…?

No.

No that couldn't be it. 

Unless the Mother of this boy…

The differences between the two…

Their wings…

Sephiroth forced his string of Reunion through the malformed connection to this world’s source. He felt one answer. One explanation. One instinctive feeling. That he converted to four simple words. 

I want my baby. 

The boy didn’t notice the drop in his posture at the simple command. 

His gaze followed whatever the boy was looking at, the sky and the empty planes, in more silent thought. He failed. He truly failed this time, and his one opportunity to strangle a success out of this asinine situation was to carry the boy to Nibelhiem, and show him the truth.

Yet for the first time in his life, Sephiroth hoped he had enough time left to do it. He was rotting from the inside out, and quickly, due to his incompatibility with this time’s Mother. He had no time to spare, but the boy was utterly entranced by the simple sight of the sky and the land.

The young Sephiroth let go of his counterpart’s hand slowly as he stared in awe. The sky. The sun. The world. He never saw it like this. He never saw it so big. On the lucky days they brought him out of the lab, nothing compared to this. The way the light fell in delicate rays, chopped by the perfectly sculpted, puffy clouds to the uneven land of green grass of rolling hills radiated inside him. Small gusts of wind swept through his hair, and his wing. This is what he wanted. This. The world. This was what he dreamed of.

What the little boy didn’t know, was that the direction of the falling sun, the direction he was facing, was exactly where Mother’s body remained.

A simple compass. 

“Let’s go,” The black wing one spoke calmly, swallowing his own apprehension. 

The little boy nodded slowly, shaking his head to rid himself of the distraction and holding his arms up to be lifted easily. He chose to trust his future self, purely for allowing him to see such an amazing sight.

Afterall, why wouldn't he trust himself?

* * * 

They didn’t make it to Nibelhiem. 

They were so close. Only a few hours by car away.

“No!” The boy shouted in fear as his older self fell to the ground upon landing, both of their wings trembling. But the boy’s trembling was only a window to his emotions, while the adult’s was painful, weak, and corroding. 

“No, please,” The child tried to lift the adult back to his knees. “You said it’s not much farther. We can make it!”

Sephiroth shook his head, a few small coughs bubbling through his weakened body. His wing was still perfectly black, but his skin was nearly gray. The shine from his silver hair dusted away, leaving nothing but a long white of fading life. Be it The Planet, this time’s Jenova, time itself, or a combination of all three, he was dying. He knew he used the last of his perseverance, unable to keep battling his failing body. “Go to the village…” His voice left his throat, raspy like sandpaper, nearly unrecognizable compared to his smooth, commanding one from before. “Find Her… Go to the reactor…” 

“Please don’t go!” He begged in denial. “Come with me! Please! Please don’t leave me alone again…” Tears fell down his cheeks in sudden rivers as he tried, tried, to find the wound, the cause of this.

“Find… her…” His last words. His final request to himself.

“Find who?!” The boy shouted between labored breaths.

He never explained, his focus captured on pushing his body to Nibelhiem rather than explanation. But no time remained. No cell. No remaining lifeforce in his being. With a strangled exhale, Sephiroth’s head fell. His body faded to dust as black as his wing, wisping away like the simplest spell of wind materia, quickly and silently rejected by the planet to drift along its surface along the breeze, and never enter the Lifestream again.

The boy he left behind didn’t know any of it. His white wing dissipated in the same wind as the man he begged to stay. 

“Find who?!” He yelled one last time to the nothing that remained, sobbing into his own hands. He didn’t know where he was, and now he was completely alone. What could he do? What should he do? The man that saved him gave him a message. He needed to go, stumbling in the vague direction of the town. He needed to get there, because that was the last request from himself. 

* * *

Sephiroth, a small, tiny, but not fragile child, made it to the small mountain village after so many hours. The townsfolk gave him weird looks, staring and pointing and whispering about him to each other. He didn’t like it, but he needed to keep going. He didn’t know where the reactor was, but it clearly wasn’t in the town. He kept walking towards the path past the large gated house, until he was stopped. 

Little did the dark haired man or the little boy know, but that simple decision protected him from the fate of his future self.

“Hey there, little buddy,” The man spoke kindly, cautiously, with a small wave as he slowly stepped into view. “Where are you going?”

“The reactor,” He spoke softly, still moving forward, eyes still forward. 

“Uh, no you’re not.” He put a hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder. “The mountains are way too dangerous for a boy your age. Where are your parents?”

That stopped him. He looked down. “I don’t know... But I need to go to the reactor. That’s what he said…”

The man only saw a lost boy separated from his parents, not the truth of what this odd child was. “It’s alright…” He spoke sympathetically before stating, “but the reactor isn’t safe. Come on, I’ll get you some food. How does that sound?”

The dark haired man coaxed him into the local inn for a warm meal, the promise of food ringing through the boy’s stomach with a loud growl. He ate so much so quickly, like he never tasted anything so good in his life. The boy, after finally giving them his name, kept repeating that he needed to go to the reactor, and that no one would believe why. 

It took a lot of coaxing, and a lot of days at the inn, before a dark haired woman with red eyes offered to bring him on her way to work.

What they found was horrible. Monsters made from mako energy, kept in pods at the back of the reactor. Sephiroth didn’t understand why his future self told him to see this. Simply, no one knew his mother’s name was carved in the marque above the sealed door. He had no idea, and he just shook his head to try to make the weird headaches go away. 

Beyond that, they made no discoveries.  

Sephiroth lived at the inn for a few more weeks, the entire village learning about him and his terrifying past. They quickly learned of his power, his strength, his skill with materia. He didn’t want to fight, but he knew how. He showed them what he could do because that’s all the board ever wanted from him. The village children and teenagers swarmed him at first, asking myriad questions that made him cringe and hide. After a few ‘talking to’s, they carefully approached him one at a time. 

Slowly, very slowly, he started making friends. 

By the time Shinra finally located him through the security footage of the reactor, the village protected him, hiding him as necessary and denying his existence entirely. The company would sooner burn the place to the ground before attempting to negotiate with these backwater people, but Professor Hojo stopped them. 

If Sephiroth was truly in the village, and they risked or gods forbid succeeded in killing him due to barbaric solutions, then he would sooner burn the entire science division to the ground. This was his project, and they would not harm him without his say. During the attack on Reactor 01, Hojo believed the creature to be somehow connected to Jenova, by the appearance and power alone. He took that risk before, and the only solace he had in this hillbilly town was the knowledge they absolutely kept his son alive.

Shinra soon considered negotiations a lost cause, and focused its efforts of the SOLDIER program into Project G.

Sephiroth grew up in the village happily, despite his natural abilities and differences. At ten years old, he aided in monster regulation, learning to kill creatures for the sake of the town. But he learned from the support of true mentors rather than survival instincts. He was so happy.

When he turned thirteen, some Wutaians asked the village for aid against the war with Shinra. They understood completely that their great ask may not be met, but they traveled to prove their devotion to their country.

Their devotion to protect.

Sephiroth, with no idea of what war was truly like, stepped forward. And after victory, the country hailed him as the Angel of Wutai. A far cry of what he once was. A far cry from the black wing of the future.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! 

Author’s note: Finally starting to get through some of these. This fic certainly changed a lot from when I initially asked for permission from the artist, but I believe this version fits the personality and motivation of, well… Sephiroth and Sephiroth, more. I genuinely apologize for the angst on this one, but I wanted at least one final scene of interaction before filling in the time gap. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading!

[jase-is-ace]

Info dumping can be calming sometimes

~~~

The pattering of rain against the window was always somewhat comforting to Shadow. It was like a welcome white noise that seemed to help sooth his nerves.

However, the gentle rain became more aggressive over time. The gentle patters became bold knocks against the glass.

Thunder was also prevalent this time around, to the upmost distress of his roommate. Taya had never seen rain before let alone thunder. Her home didn’t require rainstorms to maintain order in that environment.

The poor tanuki was wrapped in a blanket burrito on the couch, flinching whenever the clouds would scream with lightning. Shadow did his best to ease her, but she was far too frightened of the unfamiliar dreariness that accompanied storms.

“The sun is gone! Why did the clouds take the sun away!” She wailed trying to bury herself deeper into the couch cushions.

“Rain is a necessity to the environment. The plants need the water, and it has other benefits as well, you know.” The hedgehog explained.

 Taya groaned, falling onto her side and right next to her companion.

“I hate the loud noises. It hurts my head.” The tanuki sniffled, her cheek smushed against the sofa as she glanced up at Shadow.

A loud piercing thunder clap rang out, causing the tanuki to yelp and dive under her blanket.

Shadow sighed, peeling the cover off her head.

“You’re fine. It’s not the end of the world.” Shadow said flatly. Taya stuck her tongue out at him, to which he threw the blanket over her face again.

He picked up his book and continued to read.

The stone mobian squirmed out of the tangle of blankets and scooched closer to her roommate.

“What are you reading?” she inquired, peering over his shoulder to get a better look.

“Just a book about nature. It’s quite fascinating, the amount of little things the ecosystem has from the smallest insects to the largest of predators-“

Taya settled, making herself comfortable as she listened to her friend ramble on about his interests. He liked learning facts about everything, except space of course. It was so incredibly rare for him to talk so much. Taya made sure to pay attention to what he taught her or in other words, his info dumping.

His voice also helped to distract her from the raging storm outside.

She still flinched every now and again but was absolutely entranced with her friend.

He looked so passionate.

The hedgehog continued to spew out random facts he had read about in other books and even started to read some sections of the book aloud for the tanuki.

Hours flew by before they knew it.

Neither mobians cared enough to notice.

Taya examined how much Shadow’s expression, how it contorted from slight giddiness to disapproval depending on which fact he was discussing.

He allowed the tanuki to chime in and give her commentary, to which she proudly exclaimed her thoughts and opinions.

Shadow hadn’t realized when Taya had closed into his space to peer at the book again. She flipped through a few pages herself and spotted plants that she thought were beautiful.

“Ah, that’s lavender. My favorite.” Shadow commented.

“You smell like lavender, like all the time.” Taya snorted, the hedgehog scoffed explaining how important hygiene and keeping up appearance was to him.

“So important that you keep lavender perfume in the bathroom?” the tanuki teased.

“Of course! I would never leave the house smelling like Sonic.” Shadow huffed, one ear twitching in annoyance.

“Well, I like those!” the tanuki pointed at one of the pictures within the book.

Shadow glanced and chuckled at the accuracy of her choice.

“Daisies?” The ebony hedgehog glanced at her. She nodded eagerly.

“I remember seeing flowers that looked a lot like them. They used to grow all around my kingdom! I would make flower crowns for my friends and family.” The girl sighed in contentment.

“A daisy personality aligns with you perfectly.”

Taya tilted her head.

“What do you mean?” She inquired quizzically.

“Daisies are representative of loyalty and pure devotion to loved ones.” Shadow explained while gesturing to the passage that accompanied the picture of daisies.

Taya looked on with surprise.

“I didn’t know flowers had personalities. That’s pretty cool.” She giggled.

Shadow agreed, nodding his head.

Both continued to read as the thunderstorm calmed down and returned to the silent calm and rhythm of a gentle song from the clouds above.

It was a decent evening, to say the least.

~~~

Just wanted to right a little oneshot of them being besties -_-

[softtransbf]

First Second Meeting Redux

The alternate scenario for Barry and Lapin reuniting kept playing in my head, so I figured why not write it down.

I definitely skipped some turns of combat, compressing dnd bullet time into prose is never easy, and I chose pacing it the way I wanted to over technical accuracy lol

Again, not proofread, so forgive any errors

-----------------

Making myself look away from La- Chancellor Cadbury, I scanned the faces of the other Candians. The children were so young, but the pain and fury in their eyes made them look much older than they did at the tournament, not twenty-four hours prior.

I couldn't blame them- between the Pontifex orchestrating the assassination attempt and what she just pulled with the Book of Leaves, that'd age anyone a lifetime.

The younger of the princesses, no, the former princesses, noticed me watching them.

"You! You're a priest, you have to know this isn't right. Please, help us get out of here," she begged, and I felt something in my gut soften. "My father made a mistake, yes, but we don't deserve this- this- this perversion of justice for politics!"

Before I could respond, her sister charged the dais, and chaos erupted. I stood there, frozen, torn between the letter of my vows and the spirit of them. These actions weren't in line with the teachings of the Bulb I knew and loved.

But then a sweet stench filled the air, drawing my attention to Chancellor Cadbury and the spell he had just cast on the gummy bear knight. He's a warlock? Of the Sugar Plum Fairy? Pretending to be a miracle worker? Why? For how long?

My confusion was short-lived, as just seconds later, Sir Keradin Deeproot, with three sickening blows, dropped him to the ground, and time stopped.

I saw my first day at the seminary, meeting him, with his sharp wit and eyes full of mischief. I saw nights sitting closer than necessary and talking about the cosmos and the powers other than the Bulb. And I saw him get in a carriage and leave for Candia.

It is true that miracle workers are few and far between, but the Bulb saw the love I had for it and the people around me and saw fit to bless me with certain abilities. Not faith, not blind devotion. Love. Everything I could do was simply an outpouring of love.

So it was both surprising and completely natural when I called out Lapin's name and, without any conscious decision to do so, the strongest healing magic I had ever cast flew from my hand, bathing him in light and lifting him to his feet.

Sir Deeproot turned to me, his mace covered in chocolate. "He is a heretic! Worse than that- an apostate! Why are you using the Bulb's power to heal him?"

A calmness I'd never felt before washed over me, and I stood tall. "What has been done here today is not of the Bulb. It is nothing more than schemes and political machinations that defy everything the Bulb teaches us. The Pontifex is eloquent and powerful, but that does not make her infallible. It has made her proud and given her delusions of grandeur. I cannot stand by and watch the name of the Bulb I love so much get tainted like this. Especially not to Saint Citrina's family."

Sir Deeproot swung back his mace and stepped closer to me. Half a heartbeat later, I felt a familiar paw take my hand, and suddenly I was on the upper balcony with the rest of the Candians. I looked over at Lapin and noticed that the hand not still holding mine was slightly crackling with magic, and his eyes were locked on my face.

"You-" "I-" We both spoke at the same time.

"Please, you go first," he said, breaking eye contact.

"It can wait until we're out of here. Which, uh. What's the plan for, from up here?"

The words were barely out of my mouth when there was a massive crash and the stone in one of the windows crumbled.

Amethar looked at me from amidst the rubble, clearly sizing me up. "I dunno who you are, but you saved Lapin, and that's good enough for me for now. Let's GO, people!" In pairs, we leapt out of the cathedral and ran for our lives deeper into Comida.

Lapin's hand didn't leave mine for an instant until we were safely stowed away on the Colby and it set sail.

[letsgofoletsgo]

Newfound Bloom

“And… Go!”

In the blink of an eye, Ramsey flew into a practiced routine of punches and kicks against the punching bag. His trademark swiftness left little hypothetical room to block, a flurry of offense coming from all angles. All the while a confident yet focused expression adorned his face.

Behind him, Sakura stood with the timer app open on her phone. The two had opted to take turns surveying each other’s technique, seeing what the other can improve on. In their sessions, Sakura noticed how similar their fighting styles were; they both utilized multiple quick paced blows in short bursts, using their lightweight figures to their advantage. However, it wasn’t just his speed that she was paying attention to. She studied the power behind his attacks as well. Ramsey wasn’t a muscular fighter by any means, but he knew how to adjust his body weight to maximize the force of his attacks. The way his body tensed as he connected with the bag, the way his back muscles flexed as he drew his arm to his side, the sweat beading on his brow-

Her phone cried out with a shrill beeping, audibly startling her. Ramsey relaxed, rolling his shoulders as he turned back to her. “Well, how’d I do?”

Sakura fumbled as she turned the alarm off. “Uh- good! Yeah, you’re definitely getting quicker.” She sputtered, trying to regain composure.

Ramsey stretched. “Alright, I call break time.”

He walked over to the wall of the dojo, sitting down with a sigh. Sakura trotted after him, hoping he didn’t notice her starting too intently.

“Gotta say, I think we’re improving!” He said, happy-go-lucky as ever. “From the looks of it, your accuracy is getting better.”

“Well, you know, just been practicing hard is all.” she chuckled a bit.

“And it’s paid off! Keep it up and you’re gonna kick ass at the tournament.” He smiled at her.

“Oh, thanks!”

Everytime he complimented her, smiled at her, Sakura couldn’t help but feel this lightness in her chest. It felt safe, warm, exciting; but why? She’d sparred with people her age in the fighting club of her college before, but she never felt this way about any of them.

“So, is Dan entering?”

The girl buried this feeling briefly, opting to focus on social interaction. “Actually, he’s not. He wanted to when it was announced, but unfortunately he overslept and missed the window to sign up.”

This earned a laugh from him. “I expect nothing less.”

“I guess so, but Dan’s still a pretty good teacher.” She argued. “His methods may be a bit unorthodox, but he just wants to make a name for himself.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong, guy’s pretty entertaining most of the time.” He shrugged. “I’d honestly just like to get another chance to spar with him, the guy’s a riot.”

Sakura giggled. “I guess you’d want to pick up where you left off?”

“Hey! It's not my fault he brought up the new season of Challengers! You know that show is my weakness!”

“Still, that will always be a victory in his book.”

“All the more reason for a remwatch if you ask me.”

The topic got her thinking. “Oh! That reminds me, how are things going with you and Poison? You guys still looking for a partner for Hugo?”

“Yep!” He perked up. “We’ve found a couple new places to scout, we’re feeling pretty hopeful.”

“Honestly, I still think it's awesome you’re a co-manager for a professional wrestler.” Sakura exclaimed.

“Eh, it's nothing much,” He scratched the back of his head. “I just lend a hand where I can.”

“Still, you get first-hand experience of the wrestling scene in L.A., that’s pretty cool to me!” She said with earnest. “Tell me, what are they like? The tournaments and stuff, I mean.”

Placing his head on his knuckles, Ramsey collected his thoughts. “Well, they’re not the friendliest of spaces, certainly no respect among fighters like you’re used to. You also gotta watch what you’re doing and where you’re going, some of the guys can get pretty out of sorts if you get in their way.”

An intriguing mental image was being painted in Sakura’s mind. Someone as small as Rmasey among giant, hulking, conflict-hungry men. It seemed like an environment where you needed a loud personality to be heard, and a wealth of street smarts to stay in one piece. Yet from how he described it, Ramsey knew what he was doing. This garnered a certain level of respect from her, perhaps even a sense of admiration.

“Sounds like you’ve learned a lot under those two.” She commented.

“Yeah, I’m pretty fortunate that Poison took me under her wing, especially since I’ve never had a job before.”

Sakura thought for a moment. “Think you’d ever take me to one?”

“Huh?” He looked at her in surprise. “You’d want to go to one?”

“I ‘d just like to see where you work!”

“I mean, maybe if I can convince Poison, we can work something out,” he mused. “As long as you follow my lead, you should be fine.”

Sakura’s face lit up. “That would be awesome! And don’t worry, I can handle myself.”

Ramsey chuckled. “I know that much about you.”

Her fierce expression softened. She felt this warmth when she heard his laugh, this weird sense of safety along with it. Once again she tried to inspect these feelings, tracing them back to her friend, but there was something that kept her from connecting the dots. What was it?

“Maybe we should get Blanka out to one of our gigs, think he’d get a kick out of it?” Ramsey asked.

Sakura snapped out of her trance. “Huh? Oh, sure! I’ll talk to him about it.”

“You do that, he gets along with Hugo pretty well so-” He was interrupted by his phone ringing. Digging it out of his pocket, he seemed to recognize the caller. “Hey, what’s up?” An annoyed voice came from the speaker, to which he responded with shock. “Oh shit- I’m sorry, the time ran away from me. Look, I’ll be there in ten minutes max, okay? Alright.”

Ramsey leapt from the ground, rushing to put his t-shirt back on and grab his bag.

“Who was that?” There was a mix of curiosity and startelement in Sakura’s voice.

“It was Poison, I was supposed to be back at her place twenty minutes ago to go over management stuff with her.” He explained in a hurry. “Sorry to cut this short, but thanks for inviting me anyway! I’ll see you later!”

With that, he bounded out the door, hardly giving her time to say goodbye. She didn’t dwell on it though, as she was too consumed in her own thoughts. Rising from the floor, she stretched her muscles as she went to leave the training room. Next to the main dojo was a hallway, and adjacent to it was a smaller break room of sorts. She took a water bottle from the fridge, taking generous swigs. Sighing as she finished, she approached a couch on the other side of the room, and plopped down.

Once again, her thoughts were fixated on Ramsey. The butterflies in her stomach, the joy and giddiness she felt towards him, it was amazing and overwhelming.

But why?

She smushed her hands onto her face, groaning with frustration. This want to be near him, it was alien to her. A few more moments passed, only this newfound feeling for company.

Then, she opened her eyes. A realization came upon her.

Sakura sat up, staring forward with clarity. Suddenly, she reached for her phone, opening her Instagram app. She pulled up his profile, tapping on his most recent photo. It was a selfie, the Los Angeles skyline in the background. He held up a peace sign with a grin, the caption reading “Overlooking the city of lights”. The way the light cascaded along his features, his expression as confident yet lighthearted as ever. As she remained fixated on this photo, it finally became clear to her. Turning off her phone, she stared at nothing at particular, not able to run from this anymore. She went to speak, if only to herself, if only to make it real;

“I’ve got a crush on him.”

[noteguk]

Hey nala! I loved bad attitude, I can’t wait to see more of the oc teasing jk 😭

Thank you!! I really like exploring the dark side of the force that overtakes the oc every once in a blue moon. So I hope you guys like this one! (The timeline is after bad reputation, but before bad attitude) 

[ ! ] this is a drabble for bad influence. You can read it as a stand-alone. 

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, sexting, badboy!Jungkook x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits/enemies to lovers, dirty talk, taking and sending pics (not nudes), jk’s skirt thirst, a glimpse into the chaos that lives inside the oc 

— words; 1,2k

~ 

Years of high school (and now college) excellence did wonders to disguise your impulsive side. It was a common misconception to believe that, just because you were disciplined enough to keep your grades high and your responsibilities in check, you didn’t act on dumb, random thoughts that popped up inside your head. You kind of wished it was true (it would’ve saved you a lot of drama in your personal life) but you also had to admit that you had your fun indulging in your more chaotic needs as well. 

Jungkook’s answer came quickly, but not as quickly as you had first expected. Which meant that he was either busy or distracted — past tense — and that it would be slightly more fun than you thought. 

With a smirk growing on your lips, you turned around on the bed, reaching for your phone. His answer was simple, only one word, but it was more than enough for you to realize that your machiavellian plan would be fruitful. 

jk tutoring 🚫: dont.

If years of perfecting self-restraint didn’t stop you, his half-assed warning wouldn’t. With your phone in hands, you propped yourself up on your elbows as you typed a response. 

You: Why not? 😔

As you nervously waited for his text, the picture you had previously sent him was staring you right in the face. It wasn’t anything outrageous, just a simple mirror selfie of you sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed and head slightly tilted to the side. It was something so innocent, so gentle and casual, that you could almost pretend that you didn’t know exactly what you were doing when you picked that skirt.

It wasn’t any revolutionary discovery to claim that Jungkook had a thing for your skirts — he had mentioned about a million times already and, even if he hadn’t, it was extremely obvious from the way he explored your body with a lot more eagerness when you wore one. What was a revolutionary discovery, however, was the piece of clothing you found hiding in the corner of your closet, something you had long discarded because Yongsun had managed to shrink it the first time she washed it. 

It was practically impossible to wear it outside, but, well, it was the perfect tool to provoke Jungkook with. Because if karma didn’t take care of him, you would. 

Finally, his messages popped up on your screen: 

jk tutoring 🚫: in a lab rn dont wanna get hard thx

jk tutoring 🚫: but it looks rlly fucjing hot 

jk tutoring 🚫: wanna see you riding me in it bby 

jk tutoring 🚫: in front of that mirror ;) 

You bit your lip, bubbles of expectation starting to pop in your stomach. Sexting Jungkook was the free trial of being a chess genius — you were always ten steps ahead, predicting his following words with almost perfect accuracy. Was it mean, perhaps a little twisted of you to be doing that while he was (miraculously) in class? Maybe. But you had a lot of things in your mind and mercy wasn’t one of them. Especially after the months of torture he had put you through. 

You: whatever you want 🥰 

You: I’m surprised you even go to class tho, that’s news 

jk tutoring 🚫: u took the day off to pester me? 

You: maybe I did

You: maybe I’m also home alone for the rest of it 

jk tutoring 🚫: dont fucking say that 

In true supervillain fashion, you had to laugh at his apparent desperation — a high-pitched, victorious laugh that seemed to come straight from your soul. Jungkook very rarely found himself in that position and you absolutely lived for it. It was one thing to provoke him in person, when he was much stronger than you and could shut you up in no time, but, through the screen, only equal rights. And equal methods of torture.

You: why? You don’t wanna come over? 

jk tutoring 🚫: u kno I do 

jk tutoring 🚫: ill ttyl

You: not later!! Now 🥺 

jk tutoring 🚫: baby this isn’t the best moment 

jk tutoring 🚫: Im already hard n im almost done here ok

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, giving the angel and the demon on your shoulders time to present their case. The collected, rational part of you told you to leave it at that: he would come over later, you had managed to provoke him enough to piss him off and get the reaction you wanted. You won. But the impulsive, evil side of you told you that you didn’t win hard enough. 

Before you could think too much about it, you took another picture, feeling blessed enough to get a good shot on your first try. Your thumbs flew over the keys, typing fast to get the message sent before Jungkook decided to put his phone away. 

You: but these are the panties that you like 😔 

Like clockwork, there was a long moment of tension between your message being viewed and those little dots appearing at the corner of your screen. Once again: you knew exactly what you were doing. And you knew that a picture taken underneath your skirt, presenting him with a full view of your red laced panties, would be the cherry on top. 

jk tutoring 🚫: I fucjing hate u

You: don’t think you do 

jk tutoring 🚫: im saving these 

jk tutoring 🚫: gonna fuck u so hard bby 

jk tutoring 🚫: not even gonna take those off 

jk tutoring 🚫: just gonna push them aside n see u coming all over my cock 

Playing like that with Jungkook was like russian roulette — only, it was only you, and all chambers were filled. You knew it would backfire, you knew that the second he walked in your room all your control would go flying out the window, and yet you pushed on. Impulsiveness was a drug for someone that rarely indulged in it, and you were too high to care about the consequences when they seemed so far away. Or, even worse, when you kind of liked them. 

That was what pushed you to write your following messages: 

You: come over now? Please? 

jk tutoring 🚫: wait like 10 min we’re wrapping up 

You: now 🥺 

You: I’m so wet kook 

You: my panties are soaked 

You: don’t you wanna come and take them off? 

You: Or maybe I can take care of myself today and I can see you another day 😔

jk tutoring 🚫: dont fucking dare

You: I bet I could come super quick too I’m so turned on 

You: I want to feel you inside me 

You: I’m so tight too I can barely put my fingers in

You: please? Come over? 

Checkmate. The forces of chaos inside you were rejoicing, every cell of your body anticipating the impact of your words. You, however, already knew you had won even before he answered you. 

jk tutoring 🚫: im coming over rn

~

check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

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[jinx-jade]

A little bird and his prey Chapter 1

“Crow, head to Wayne Steel. Someone’s trying to break in,” Oracle informed him the moment he was done taking care of the thugs.

“ETA twenty-three minutes,” Crow responded, grappling in the direction of the steel mill.

“Shit!” Oracle cursed, the fast clicking of computer keys could be heard over the comms.

“Oracle, Explain,” Crow demanded, rushing a bit faster to his destination.

“Menagerie is the one who broke into Wayne Steel mill. She’s breaking through the firewall. I think she’s trying to lock me out.” Oracle informs him. Stress clear in her voice, Crow let out his own curse.

Menagerie appeared in Gotham around the same time Damian created the identity Crow, at the age of sixteen.

Due to the time of Crow’s and Menagerie’s appearance, most people thought that Menagerie is Crow's villain in the same way Joker was Batman's villain.

It pissed Damian off that he hasn’t been able to catch Menagerie in the five years she’s been in Gotham. Sure they can get close to each other for a fight, but she always slips away.

Menagerie has the longest record out of all of Gotham’s rogues for not being arrested. It meant that her list of charges just kept building up.

“Fuck! She locked me out!” Oracle hissed annoyed by this development.

“ETA seven minutes,” Crow hissed back at Oracle.

“You’ll be going in blind. I don’t have any security cam.’s or audio anymore.” Oracle informs him after taking a few calming breaths.

“Got it. I’m heading in.” Crow responded, muting his comm.

He entered the steel mill through one of the open windows that he was pretty sure Menagerie used. Once Crow was inside, he stuck to the shadow, hoping to not be seen.

His plan of staying in the shadows became useless as he quickly moved his body out into the open as multiple blades flew past him.

“You know, little birdy. You could just not show up. It would be more effective if you focused on more crime at your level.” Menagerie claimed, throwing more blades at Crow’s left and right sides.

Crow dodged the majority of them, snatching one of the blades from the air and sending it back with an assassin’s accuracy.

They continued to trade blows with throwing blades until Crow made it close enough for an up-close fight.

He was able to take the upper hand when Menagerie slipped in a puddle that probably came from the open windows.

Crow slams her against the wall, one of Menagerie’s blades being held to her throat.

Both vigilante and villain are breathing heavily as they make eye contact.

“I could just skin you for how much of a nuisance you’ve been, you know.” Crow pondered holding the blade a little closer. A droplet of blood rolling down her neck. “But I think I’ll leave you for the commissioner.”

Menagerie’s breath catching as Crow replaced the blade with his hand, wrapping it around her neck. Not enough to cut off her blood or air circulation, but enough that she couldn’t break out. Her wrists are pinned to the wall above her head, Crow leaning his weight against her so she can’t move.

A loud beeping sound started as they held eye contact.

A smirk falling onto Menagerie’s features.

“That would be my signal to leave.” Menagerie claimed, turning into a cloud of mist, snatching something from the control panel.

Crow cursed as Menagerie reappeared on the outside of the mill, taunting him from the now-closed windows.

“Oh, and little birdy? Don’t purposefully draw blood unless you’re willing to clean the whole blade in blood.” Menagerie says before disappearing.

Crow quickly grappled up to the window in an attempt to follow her only for the windows to be locked. Letting out an annoyed groan, he debated breaking the window but figured his father wouldn’t be too happy about it.

Instead of smashing the window, he picked the lock, but as expected Menagerie was nowhere to be seen.

Turning his comm back on Oracle interrupted him before he could speak.

“Menagerie got away?” Oracle questioned.

“She got away. I got some new info to add to her file. Any other incidents before I head back to base?” Crow asked, leaving throw the window.

“I got nothing for you. See you back at base.” Oracle signed off, Crow doing the same.

On his way back to the Batcave, someone lined their path up with his.

“Quiet night, Baby Bird?” 

“Tch. I thought you weren’t coming to Gotham till next week, Nightwing.” Crow stated, moving a bit faster trying to beat him home.

“Starfire and Nightstar went home for an emergency so I got bored being all alone,” Nightwing claimed, grappling past Crow.

“I don’t believe that’s the reason, but I can’t dispute it either,” Crow called to Nightwing, taking the lead once more.

The two vigilantes raced the whole way home, unaware of the figure watching from the shadows.

[ickaimp]

[HTTYD] Break your heart, steal your crown

Sometimes ya just gotta write angst. Lotta people liked Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, my version of the ‘Hiccup runs away and becomes the “Dragon Master”, Astrid’s offered up as a Sacrifice years later’ tropes without Hiccup being a dick, and there were requests for sequels, which I didn’t do because this was all I had. Two years post Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, 4220 words, angst and some fluff.

"Berk is dying."

The words sat heavily in the air of the smithy, lingering like a spectre between Stoick and Gobber.

Stoick almost wished he could take the words back, but that wouldn't change the accuracy of his words. Berk was dying.

Gobber closed his eyes and sighed, giving him a weary nod of agreement. So he had seen it too. Or more likely, he had seen it in Gothi's last roll of the bones, before she had gone to bed and passed away in her sleep, leaving the fortune out for Gobber to read when he found her body this morning.

He hadn't actually told Stoick what the bones had said, giving him the same world-weary look he was currently wearing instead.

Even without the soothsayer's predictions, Stoick could see it. The twins had left years ago, declaring that the isle was too boring for their pranks, setting sail with only a chicken as their companion. It had seemed like a blessing at the time, less things exploding in their wake, leaving Berk a much quieter place than it had been.

Then came Spitelout's stupidity with Astrid, offering her to the savage Dragon Master. They'd gotten her back, only for her to disappear a week later. She'd left a note that this time was by her choice, but it'd been little comfort.

This left Berk's next generation without any women old enough to be wives. To become mothers to bear future generations. 

With the Jorgenson clan name soiled by Spitelout's actions, Snotlout was no longer able to be Stoick's heir. The other clans would never treaty with someone whose family had literally brought the Dragon Master down on their heads during a meeting of the chiefs. Except for maybe Dagur, and that was not a glowing recommendation, given the Berserker's... instability.

Which left Fishlegs as the only remaining of Berk's next generation to lead. The lad was smart, there was no doubt about it, and he would be fantastic as a second in command, the next Chief's Gobber, he was too quiet and soft to be a leader. The politics would eat him alive. And worse, Fishlegs was aware of this.

There were other children, Gustav and his ilk, but they were too young to start training as the next Chief of Berk. Stoick ran a hand down his beard, more grey than red from the stress and sorrow. He didn't have long enough to train one of them up.

And Berk's numbers were dwindling in other ways. Many had not been able to adapt to life without dragons to fight, finding a peaceful life did not sit well with their warrior blood. They'd left, being adopted into other clans. They'd just lost another family that way today. Stoick wished them no ill will, but if this continued, then they'd find their numbers too small to maintain the community.

Even Gobber was growing bored, not having enough work to keep the blacksmith busy. Without the dragons, there was no need for weapons, and the simple farming tools they had didn't need as much maintenance.  Stoick looked around the smithy, his eyes falling on the curtain leading to a small room that Gobber wouldn't allow anyone into, his own private shrine to his missing godson.

And then there was the loss of Hiccup, the first of Berk's children to leave. The Dragon Master's words, that Hiccup was happy and healthy where he was, was little comfort without being able to verify this. There was little Stoick wouldn't do in order to be able to see his boy again, for even just a moment. Sometimes he wondered if this wasn’t his fault. The path had seemed clear when they were constantly being raided by dragons. But without the raids, he was floundering. His people were looking to him for direction, and he had no experience with peace to know what to do. More and more they seemed to realise this, and left. Seven generations of vikings had lived on this isle, going all the way back to the first chieftain, his many times great-grandfather, and it was starting to look like he’d be Berk’s last chief.

"I wish I had some words of wisdom for ye, my friend." Gobber said softly. "I-"

Stoick jumped as something flew in through the window and landed on Gobber's face.

It was a green and brown Terrible Terror, who was making a high pitched growling sound as he crawled all over Gobber's head. "Don't move." Stoick rumbled, reaching for his sword.

"Ach." Gobber made a sound of annoyance, reaching up and grabbing the Terrible Terror by the scruff of its neck, pulling it off his head. "What're you-"

He trailed off, eyes drifting upwards and Stoick realised that it was the sound of a larger dragon's wings flapping. A Deadly Nadder, unless he missed his guess. Stoick gritted his teeth, feeling fire in his veins again, eager to have something to fight again, to take this rage and frustration out on.

"Oh no." Gobber said, a look of horror crossing his face as he glanced at Stoick. That was all the warning Stoick found himself being spun, his arms being bound behind his back with a pair of iron manacles, and he was flung through the curtain into Hiccup's old room. He landed against something softer than he expected, falling to the ground.

"GRUMP!" Gobber commanded, sticking his head through the curtain and pointing to Stoick. "Sit."

With a complaining groan, something large and heavy pressed down on Stoick. He grunted, trying to push himself up with his shoulders, but the weight was too much for him to get leverage.

"I didnae want you to find out like this." Gobber said, sounding apologetic, the Terrible Terror riding on his shoulder as if this was a common occurrence. "But if you value yer son's life at all, do not make a sound."

Stoick opened his mouth to bellow, only to find a rag shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. He growled, ire filling his veins as Gobber turned away, pulling the curtain shut. The torn fabric didn't go all the way to the ground, leaving Stoick with a clear view of the smithy.

When he got free, and got his hands on Gobber...

A blue and gold Deadly Nadder head stuck it's head into the doorway of the smithy, then carefully stepped in, taking care not to bump into anything in the small building. A crowned pale spectre rode on it's back, white and grey wisps obscuring the figure.

"Gobber!" The spectre greeted the smith with a cheerful voice. The spectre raised an arm, throwing what looked like a bridal veil over their crown, revealing inhuman features covered in glittering blue scales.

"Is good to see you, lassie." Gobber returned the greeting, his voice rolling with affection. The spectre laughed, reaching up for their head and pulling it off-

-Revealing Astrid's smiling face.

Stoick stopped fighting, going lax in surprise. It had been almost two years since he'd last seen Astrid, grim faced and bitter before she disappeared. She seemed to practically glow with happiness now, as she slid off the Deadly Nadder's back, giving a little hop before leaping into Gobber's outstretched arms, giving him a tight hug.

"Good to see you too." Astrid declared, holding him out at arm's length. Stoick could see that she was wearing armour now, covered in scales that matched the Nadder she rode. She wore a skirt, cape, and veil made out of ragged strips of a thin sheer white fabric that seemed to dance in the air when she moved.

The Undead Bride of the Demon was Astrid. Stoick recognised the Nadder now, it was the same one that she'd flown when the Dragon Master had kidnapped Stoick from the Althing.

"What brings ye here?" Gobber asked jovially, the merriment sounding slightly forced. "Not that I'm complaining, but was nae expecting t’see you for another week or two."

A stab of betrayal felt like a knife between his ribs.

"We have news." Astrid bounced and gave a little hip wiggle of delight. It was a gleeful carefree movement that Stoick didn't think he'd ever seen from the usually tacturn lass.

"Hey, wait. No fair." A shadow at the doorway protested, and Stoick found himself growling as he recognized the outline of the Dragon Master and his demonic Night Fury. The Dragon Master swung a leg over his so-called brother's neck, standing upright on his cloven foot and moving towards them. "I wanted to see Gobber's face when you tell."

"Not my fault that you're being slow, my sweet husband." Astrid grinned, giving another skip-hop to give a little kiss to the side of the Dragon Master's scaled helm and Stoick growled, wiggling as he trying to get free, but the weight on top of him didn’t budge.

"Wait a moment." Gobber breathed. "Astrid... Your belly... You cannot mean..." He trailed off, too choked up to speak.

Looking at her in silhouette, he could see what Gobber meant. Astrid's previously flat stomach was curved out in a very distinctive solid roundness.

Astrid was pregnant. And from the casual arm around her shoulders that the Dragon master had around her waist, the babe in her belly was that demon's.

Stoick would kill him. He'd kill him for touching Astrid. He'd rip the foul creature limb from limb, and then he'd get rid of that Night Fury who was sniffing around the room-

All thoughts faded from his mind as the Dragon Master took off his helmet, revealing his face for the first time, and Stoick's breath caught in his throat.

It couldn't be.

The messy brown hair, almost reddish in the candlelight. Green eyes. The fond crooked grin on his narrow face, having finally grown into his ears.

"Hiccup." Gobber said, his voice thick with tears. "Astrid. You've got a wee bairn on the way."

His son. That was his son standing there with an arm around Astrid, the two of them shining with happiness.

His son, the Dragon Master.

"I'm about five months along." Astrid beamed at Gobber, resting comfortably against Hiccup, the two fitting together like matching puzzle pieces.

"We were hoping you'd agree to be the Godfather." Hiccup said, and Stoick didn't know how he hadn't heard it before, in the Dragon Master's dry sarcasm. It was his son's voice, a little deeper than as a teenager, but the nasally tones could only be him. 

"Godfather-?" Gobber echoed in awe.

"It's not dependent on if you take up our offer to live with us." Astrid was quick to assure him. "But we'd like you to be. We wouldn't be having a kid if it wasn't for you."

"You got Astrid out of Berk, and you saved my life by taking me under your wing here." Hiccup said sincerely. "We're also open to them calling you 'Grandpa', if that's okay with you."

Grandpa.

Stoick was a Grandfather.

He felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes. He'd never thought he'd have that chance, not after his son went missing. And here his son was, was, healthy, happy, and with a wee one on the way.

"Och." Gobber shook his head. "I couldn't."

"You can." Astrid grinned, reaching out and taking Gobber's hand in hers, scales and claws curling delicately around calloused scarred skin. "We talked to Valka about it. She laughed and said she's fine with it. Someone else to share the responsibility of dirty diapers."

The tears spilled over his cheeks. Valka, his dear sweet Valka was alive as well.

He remembered now, the Dragon Master saying that he had his mother's eyes, and he did. Skies above, he did. Hiccup had always had Valka's clear eyes that seemed to penetrate and see more than anyone else.

"I mean, you did more to raise me than my own father did. It's only fair." Hiccup added without any trace of bitterness as he gestured around the smithy. "All of my fondest memories of Berk are here."

Stoick's breath caught, feeling as if a sword had just been thrust through his chest.

"Someone had to keep an eye on you." Gobber shook his head dismissively. "Otherwise some dragon would have flown away with your toothpick self."

The Night Fury, who had been circling around in the background, stuck it's muzzle under the curtain. The beast sniffed the air for a moment before poking its head all the way into the small room, it's acid green eyes narrowed into slits as it stared at him, a low warning rumble coming from its throat, lips curling back to show a giant maw full of razor sharp teeth.

Stoick stared back, uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he currently was. The creature could bite off his head in one bite, and there was no way for Stoick to protect himself.

"Oh nooooo. How terrible." Hiccup deadpanned in the background as Astrid laughed. "Carried away by draaagons."

The great weight on top of Stoick shifted and grunted, and he realised that it was a giant heavy dragon that was currently sitting on his back. The Night Fury crooned what sounded like a question to the creature pinning him down, getting a snore-like rumble in return.

The Night Fury glanced back down at Stoick, giving him a look that could only be described as 'scornful' before turning away with a smug expression and trotting back over to his son. Stoick watched as the beast gave an amused warbling at his son, casually headbutting Hiccup, sending him into Astrid, who took a half step to keep them all upright.

"Oh!" She gasped, then took Gobber's hand that she was still holding and pressing it against her belly.

"They're moving!" Gobber gasped. "Oh, they're a fighter, just like their parents."

Stoick's breath caught again. His grandchild. His grandchild was moving.

"The only thing that really settles them down is when the dragons sing to them." Astrid looked amused. "Even if the dragons are confused as to why I haven't laid an egg yet."

The Night Fury gave Stoick a pointed look, then nudged Astrid's belly with it's broad flat nose, giving a soft affection croon, as if to point out that the creature could touch the babe in Astrid’s belly, but Stoick could not. Stoick choked on the gag in his mouth, silently swearing vengeance.

"Which is part of the reason why we stopped by early." Astrid said gravely, and Stoick wondered how much more news he could take tonight. 

"Valka says I'm probably fine for flying up until I give birth." Astrid said, wrapping a protective arm around her belly. "But we decided that fighting is out until afterwards. So it may be awhile before I'm back in the area."

"Trapper tried to kick her in the stomach." Hiccup growled, and all three dragons in the room echoed the sound, even the Terrible Terror on Gobber's shoulder. The sound covered up Stoick's own noise of outrage at such an act. "Stormfly stopped them, but it gave us all a bit of a scare."

Astrid nodded, leaning against Hiccup, who looked a little anxious, rubbing his hand up and down the blue scales of her arm. "I can still do air support, but the pregnancy is making me exhausted lately. Which is probably only going to get worse." Astrid looked annoyed. "So we're all going to be staying with Valka at least until I give birth."

"It's not like the Hidden World really needs Toothless and I to guard it." Hiccup said with wiry humour. Stoick blinked, finding he had no more room for shock. Of course Hiccup found the home of the dragons. Of course he had. "But if you did decide to accept our offer to live with us, we didn't want you looking in the wrong place and thinking the worst."

"And Valka promises not to cook in your honour when you do show up." Astrid smirked. And Stoick nearly choked on muffled laughter, aware he was crying again. Valka had never been the best cook, but she tried. And it'd been worth every burnt and raw bite he'd choked down.

"Thank you." Gobber's voice was thick. "But I cannae leave just yet. Your Father needs..."

"I know." Hiccup hastened to assure. He stepped forward, wrapping a clawed hand around the back of Gobber's head, resting his forehead against the blacksmith's. "When you're ready, we'll be there. Even if you're never ready, we just want to make sure you know that there is a place for you."

"You just don't want to be the only one with experience making protestetics." Gobber grumbled, and Hiccup laughed, tapping his cloven foot on the ground, making a ringing sound.

Hiccup's prosthetic foot, Stoick realised, watching the spring inside the metal contraption flex. His son was missing a foot.

And Stoick had no idea when or how it happened.

"You caught me." Hiccup didn't sound angry about it as he released Gobber, more jovial than anything. "But it doesn't make it less true."

"I'll think about it." Gobber promised with the air of having said the same thing many times before, taking the Terrible Terror off his shoulder and transferring it to Hiccup's.

"And I'll teach you how to make Dragon Iron when you do." Hiccup said with a grin, his voice both teasing and cajoling.

Dragon Iron, which the Dragon Master was the only one who knew how to make. Because Hiccup had been a smith since he was six years old, put under Gobber's eye to keep him out of trouble.

"Stop trying to bribe me, you brat." Gobber cuffed him upside the back of his head with a grin. Both Hiccup and Astrid laughed, even if the Night Fury gave Gobber a glare. "Now g'wan. Get out of here before you're seen."

"Yeah, yeah." Astrid rolled her eyes and stood up on her toes to give Gobber a quick fond kiss on the cheek. "We'll see you later, one way or another." She informed him matter of factly before putting her helmet back on and climbing on top of her dragon, settling the veil around her shoulders.

"Take care of yourself." Hiccup clasped Gobber's hand, then pulled the larger smith in for a back thumping hug before releasing him. "And say ‘hi’ to Grump for me, wherever he's snoozing at."

"Will do." Gobber agreed blithely. "Stay safe, all of you."

The Night Fury let out a warble as if to say that it was his job to keep them all safe as Hiccup fastened the helmet back on his head, transforming back to the Dragon Master. The beast gave Stoick one last pointed look as Hiccup climbed in it's back, before turning and heading out of the smithy, both the dragons and their riders losing their relaxed easy going postures.

Astrid followed a few heartbeats later, following Hiccup's soft whistle. There was the sound of wingbeats, and then they were gone.

Leaving the smithy empty aside from Gobber and Stoick. It was with a sinking realisation that he realised he probably wouldn’t get another chance to ever see Hiccup again.

The Dragon Master was essentially Chieftain to the dragons, a role that clearly kept him busy and constantly travelling all over the archipelago and beyond. Stoick knew first hand how busy having a newborn kept one as well. It would be months, if not another year before Hiccup would free to visit Berk. And there would be no way for Stoick to know where or when.

Gobber gave a great big heaving sigh before turning back towards Stoick, his peg leg sounding loud against the ground. Gobber moved the curtain aside, and then knelt down, removing the gag from Stoick's mouth.

"I'm sorry y'had to find out this way." Gobber said softly, and the thing that hurt the most is that he could feel how sincerely his oldest friend meant it.

"How long?" Stoick asked, ignoring the way his voice broke.

Gobber gave a thoughtful hum, reaching up and petting the dragon on top of him. "Almost two years now." He finally said. "I recognized Hiccup's work on the blade the Dragon Master gave Astrid when he returned ya both here. Astrid had suspected as much, it just confirmed it for her."

He'd travelled with his son for an entire day, and Stoick hadn't a clue it was him.

Stoick, who had sworn that he'd be able to recognize his son anywhere, any time, in any place.

Horror went down his spine as he remembered the accusations he'd hurled at the Dragon Master after the dragon had crashed into their camp. Threatening to kill the Dragon Master in order to find his son.

His son, who had been right there. Who had told him while hidden behind a mask, that Hiccup was alive, healthy and happy where he was, far away from Berk.

Away from Stoick.

"About a month after Astrid left, she stopped by for a visit, ta let me know she was fine." Gobber continued, nudging the dragon off of Stoick. The giant creature grumbled as it slowly obeyed, leaving Stoick still shackled and on the ground. "The next visit, she brought Hiccup, and we cried together for nearly an hour."

Gobber paused, checking his pockets for his keys, then started to work on the manacles around Stoick's arms. Stoick had broken through stronger bonds before, but he didn't have the energy in him now.

"They stop by every every other month or so to check in on me, let me know how they're doing, or send a Terrible Terror with a letter." Gobber continued quietly. "Valka's been by once as well, weren't real comfortable here and left just as quick. Too many memories of blood shed."

The manacles released with a click, and Stoick slowly moved his arms, his shoulders protesting having been twisted in such a position. He carefully sat up, turning to face the monster that had been on his back.

And found himself looking at the least dangerous dragon he'd ever set eyes upon, for all its enormous size. It was large enough that it had probably only been it's head that had been resting on Stoick's back, and looked like it was already asleep with its eyes half open.

And it looked like a giant turd. Large, brown, and lumpy.

"This magnificent fellow is Grump." Gobber motioned to the sleepy dragon, with a fond expression. "They left him with me for back up, and so I have a way to meet up with them some time. He's been running the forge fires for me. Never realised how helpful having a dragon in the smithy could be before Hiccup mentioned it, even if the great lump sleeps most of the time."

Grump slowly turned an eye in Gobber's direction, thick club of a tail bouncing a few times as if realising that they were talking about him. He briefly wondered how many months the dragon had been sleeping here and no one had even suspected.

Stoick felt as if everything he had believed in had suddenly been turned upside down and shaken about. Dragons possibly weren't evil. His son was alive. He had a grandchild on the way. Hiccup was the Dragon Master.

"Is he happy?" Stoick asked, mindful of the tears still on his cheeks. "Hiccup?"

Gobber thought it over. "Aye." He finally said, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. "The lad weren't never made for being a Viking. Living amongst the dragons brings him not only comfort, but joy. Astrid and Valka too. Once you've earned a dragon's loyalty, there ain't much that can break it. And the three of them fit among them like they were born for it."

Stoick nodded. "And you?"

"Me?" Gobber looked surprised at the question.

"Will you be joining them?" He had the invitation and the dragon.

Gobber hesitated, looking at the slumbering dragon. "I'd like to." He finally admitted. "Some day. But not any time soon."

Because he was staying here, for Stoick's sake. He'd told Hiccup that clearly enough.

Gobber was his oldest and dearest friend, loyal to a fault, and Stoick couldn't blame him for keeping HIccup's secrets. Not when Stoick's reaction to meeting the Dragon Master hadn’t been nearly so generous, even as he realised that the Dragon Master was only trying to help in his own way.

"You should join them." Stoick said, rising to his feet. Gobber looked like he wanted to protest, and Stoick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "When you're ready."

Gobber closed his mouth and nodded. Stoick nodded back, then walked out of the smithy. The cold air hit the tear tracks on his cheeks, and he ignored it, trudging up the hill to his cold empty hut.

He had gotten his wish, to know that his son was not only alive, but thriving. Astrid too. And Valka as well, his wife living amongst dragons for nearly two decades now. He was so elated to know that they weren’t dead. 

Stoick wouldn't trade that knowledge for anything, not even with the understanding that the reason for their happiness was that they were living their lives far away from him.

-fin- (no, there are no plans for anything further in this au, but if it sparks something in you, feel free to play.)

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-16: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“From now on, all you have to do is to answer my questions.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

The air was heavily permeated with the acrid smell of food that had long since turned bad. 

Hemp rope, capsules, and many pieces of orange-coloured origami paper littered the ground by my feet.

MC: This is…

Every piece of origami paper that laid scattered on the ground had fold marks, some of it was even complete, folded into the shape of a butterfly.

Origami butterflies, the security guard, racing… The image of a young woman entered my mind.

Osborn: The sound we heard earlier came from over there.

I looked towards a corner of the room. There was a row of tall shelves, blocking the view of the people who were hidden behind. Light shone forth from behind the shelves, casting shadows.

I heard the hiss of tape, along with the sound of heavy and ragged breathing. The person being restrained sounded like they were in great pain.

??: I don't have the time to be playing games with you!

Osborn exchanged a glance with me. Understanding passed between us as we both silently approached the other end.

Through the gaps between the shelves, I could see the same who'd assaulted me back then. He was using hemp rope to tie a woman down on a chair.

The woman cried out, struggling vehemently against her binds. So much, that it enraged the man who then kicked her chair, making it topple right over!

MC: !

I caught sight of a familiar face the moment the chair fell onto the ground.

Lin Yao's agent!?

I felt an iciness creep up my heart. I pulled at Osborn to nab his attention and lowered my voice into a whisper.

MC: I recognize the person who's being bound to the chair. She's the mother and agent of the star, Lin Yao.

The light in Osborn's eyes dimmed a tad before he made a shushing motion.

Man: You should have thought about your fate when you locked her up in the attic back then, abusing her every day.

Man: Hurry and sign that agreement contract! ...Do you hear me!? Otherwise… Otherwise, I will make you disappear; forever!

The bound agent could only vehemently nod in response, gripping onto the pen that had been shoved into her hand and signing the contract with much difficulty.

After a period of silence, the man laughed; a laugh so solemn and tragic.

Man: This is how it should be. Her contact has been dissolved; she's finally free…

Did he kidnap the agent just to dissolve Lin Yao's contract? To grant her freedom? But I didn't interact much with her… So, why would he have attacked me?

Before I could wrap my head around it, I suddenly saw the gleam of a sharp and deadly blade flash in his hand…

Not good!

The shelf we'd been hiding behind was knocked over by a well-timed kick as Osborn threw a couple of fallen debris his way with startling speed and accuracy.

Clatter!

The small knife fell onto the ground.

The man angrily got up and turned around to see just who was behind him… Only to be surrounded and trapped by blue fire!

He wailed in pain, falling to the ground. However, his eyes remained fixated to where the contract had fluttered to a rest. He reached out to the piece of paper, grabbing ahold of it.

Was he laughing; or was he crying? I don't know. His shaky hand reached out, picking the contract up and carefully safekeeping it in his inner breast pocket.

The agent twisted, making muffled cries for help. Her once prideful and haughty face was now marred with a multitude of wounds.

I stepped up and tore the tape that sealed her mouth off.

Agent: H-Help me!

Agent: He's a madman!

Agent: You're police, right? Hurry and arrest him and get me out of here!

Agent: That madman caught me yesterday, insisting that I sign a contract to dissolve my contract with Yao'yao.

Agent: Quick! Get me the contract so that I can rip it apart!

Man: Give it a rest! Over my dead body! I won't let you control her again.

Agent: Stop daydreaming! I'm Lin Yao's mother. She WILL listen to whatever I say.

Man: You are not worthy.

Hearing the agent’s words, the man suddenly got even more agitated. His face was pinched in a pained look.

Man: Just what do you see her as? A money tree!? I should have stopped her from going with you at the orphanage back then!

Man: She was so elated when she went off with you back then, thinking that she'd finally have a family…

Agent: Back then? Are you from the orphanage too? You're a kid from that place!

Man: That's not all. I almost got adopted by you, mom.

The fragments finally pieced themselves together in my mind, forming the full picture.

Lin Yao was a child whom the agent had adopted from the orphanage, and she knew this man since childhood. Hence, Lin Yao’s friend who liked racing should be none other than him.

But for some reason or another, this was also the same man who’d vanished for a long time. After his return, he learnt that Lin Yao was being harshly treated and coerced against her will by the agent. So, he kidnapped her and coerced her to sign a termination agreement instead.

The agent instantly shot up from her spot, seemingly wanting to retort back about something. However, her body swayed twice before she fainted, collapsing onto the ground.

Osborn picked up the small discarded knife that had fallen onto the ground, holding it up and pressing it to the man’s neck.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: From now on, all you have to do is to answer my questions.

Man: This has nothing to do with you, Osborn!

Osborn: Cut the crap.

Osborn: The attacks that have been happening recently. Were they all your doing?

Man: ...Yes.

After a moment of silence, Osborn took out a bracelet from his pocket…

It was the very same nameplate bracelet with the two-headed snake motif that I'd seen that day on the roof.

Osborn: This must be yours then, isn't it?

Man: My bracelet! Why do you have it!? You did THIS to me!!

Osborn: Don't move. Explain yourself.

Osborn: What purpose does this device serve?

Man: To stop us from going berserk.

Osborn turned the bracelet, angling it and pointing to the back.

Osborn: HCP18407. What is it?

Man: That's my name.

Osborn: You said "us" earlier. Who's "us"?

❖☆———————————★❖

The man seemed like he'd wanted to grin so wide that a smile split his face.

However, his skin was so bone-dry that it was clinging tightly to the bones with no give at all. It made moving a struggle for him, and the only thing that still retained its mobility was his eyes.

He laughed. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and started to whine pathetically.

Man: I don't know.

Man: We were kept captive; our names and existences erased. Everyone was given a number.

Man: Hearing, taste, touch… We were all slowly deprived of all senses

Man: In the end, we turned into beasts that had to rely on blood to survive.

He stared at the floor in a daze, his voice growing increasingly muffled.

Man: I witnessed my best bud turn into nothing but an empty shell with my own eyes. And the experiment failed on me, so I was discarded as if I was nothing but trash.

Man: I went through so much just to escape before I got annihilated. Ask just so that I could see Yao'yao!

Man: But without the daily supplement they gave, along with the bracelet's inhibition, I deteriorated by the day.

Man: When night falls, I can't stop myself from assaulting others…

Osborn: Night? But you assaulted her in broad daylight.

Osborn raised a finger and pointed back to me.

Man: I don't know. I suddenly smelt the strong scent of blood. Just like this smell now.

He raised his head to look at me with desire written all over his face. It looked as if he was positively ready to jump me the next second. Then, he struggled with himself, clutching at his neck and forcing himself to retreat a couple of steps.

Man: Her blood is potent and terribly enticing. It makes me lose my rationality. And I'd already attacked her by the time I came back to myself!

Man: I know that this is a crime, but I HAVE to survive.

Osborn fell silent for a long while before he spoke up once more.

Osborn: Who locked you guys up?

Man: I don't know… We're the basest of existence, so we're not allowed to know anything.

Man: I only know that those keeping us locked up were all people of the Blood Tribe.

Osborn: Did you see a man in his forties of medium build in that place? His glasses should have had the same motif that was on the nameplate bracelet.

The man instantly shook his head.

Man: There were only orphans there. All around the same age as me. I never saw anyone over the age of 30.

Knock… Knock…

A strange sound came from the glass windows.

Turning around, I saw a purplite bird knocking on the glass with its sharp beak.

Osborn froze, his expression instantly turned severe; something that I'd never seen on him. He released the man's collar, vehemently whipping around and tackling me.

Osborn: Get down!

CRASH!

The windows shattered, causing shards of glass to splinter in all directions!

A flock of purplite birds flew in front of the open window, swarming and attacking us all.

Osborn shielded me firmly beneath his body, unleashing his fire and making it form a barrier in front of us.

❖☆———————————★❖

The flapping of wings, the sound of impact being made; the shrill cries of the birds filled the dark room. 

It was eerie enough to make one's hair stand on end.

The situation had taken a turn for the unexpected. There were sounds of footsteps coming from all directions. The shreds of orange origami paper fluttered in the air, like the broken wings of a butterfly, obscuring our vision.

After a good long while, the cacophony dissolved, and the man from earlier was nowhere to be seen. There wasn't even a single trace of him ever being there.

MC: Osborn, he…

Osborn: Let's get back out first.

I nodded and carried the agent, who'd lost consciousness, together with him, running out the door.

❖☆———————————★❖

I was momentarily blinded by the light when we got outside. 

The abandoned building before me seemed so foreign and out of place, as if it were from a completely different world.

I couldn't help but look back at Osborn. He was holding tightly onto a watch, his gaze fixated on the two-headed snake motif on the centre of the clock face.

It was then that I finally understood; That the reason why he was looking for the bracelet up on the roof, and why he asked me what the meaning of this motif was outside the museum that day, had everything to do with that watch he held in his grasp.

And, he'd asked about someone earlier, as if he was trying to locate them.

I wanted to offer him words of comfort, but my attention was called away by the sudden shout. I turned towards the sound.

A plump man was waving his hand, running towards us.

??: Hey bro. I came here as soon as I got your message. What's up?

Osborn had already put away his watch. He glanced at me.

Osborn: He's Wen Wan. He'll send you home.

MC: What about you? Aren't you coming with us?

Osborn: There are still some things I have to clear up here.

MC: ...Are you going back to look for him?

Osborn: You've forgotten what I told you again.

Osborn: The more secrets you know, the more likely you are to-

His lips quirked up into an arc as he quietly averted his gaze elsewhere.

MC: Fine, be that way then… Stay safe.

Osborn: This is a walk in a park.

Osborn: You're that worried about me?

MC: I don't think things are as simple as it seems, and I'm worried that other dangers are lying in wait…

Osborn: Only because you have yet to realize just how dangerous I am.

He suddenly leaned down, opening my palm and depositing a handful of candy before he turned to leave, as free and easy as ever.

Osborn: She's all yours now.

I watched his gradually disappearing silhouette in the distance, tightening my hold on the bunch of lemon candy that he'd dropped off.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

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