#her heart would explode but its more of a pump

[warmandroid]

@trauerfeier

▣ It was hard, but Serra was trying to get better about staring. Back home, because she was technically an Add, humans tended to not think too much about her looking at them because of her barcode. They'd think "it's just a machine" and not wonder what she was "thinking" about. Her barcode didn't mean anything to the people here though. She'd quickly learned that more people were willing to assume she had a "soul" than she'd ever imagined.

Still, it was hard not to stare sometimes. The Add was ever curious and not only wanted to observe, but also to inquire. A man with wings growing from his head had captured her attention. Especially when he looked like something out of a fantasy movie! Just a little peek would be fine, right?

Serra's expression immediately grew panicked. He was staring right back at her. Caught red handed! "O-Oh... Um..." She was inexperienced and shy when it came to talking to strangers normally, so being put in this spot just exaggerated those feelings. "H-Hello! Nice day, isn't it...?"

[monstersholygrail]

Request/idea for Monstober/Kinktober:

~Being free use for a pack of werewolves~

Maybe the reader is like a moon witch or something that makes the werewolves just go feral

Maybe they all live in a house together and they love the reader but also fuck her brains out daily

Sometimes it’s one on one, sometimes it’s a gangbang

But she’s so happy with her pack of werewolves that make her feel so good

Trying to combine these was a workout lmao.

Having to share the forest with a Werewolf Pack was far more of a hassle than you ever expected. Being a Moon Witch it was only natural for you to live in a forest in a cute little cottage. You loved your home but the nearby Werewolf pack was the only downside. Their wolves were insatiable.

When on runs they couldn’t help but follow the alluring scent of your cunt. They’d end up at your door and you could barely blink before they’re bending you over the closest available surface and fucking your brains out. Sometimes it would be one going on a solo run. He’d ravish you for hours, pounding into your fat cunt till you saw stars. Other times it was a whole pack of them. Taking you one right after the other till you couldn’t even keep track of how many times you explode around their knot. But by the end you’re left with a belly full of hot cum.

You were happy to help but it made getting things done very difficult.

So for a bit of payback, the next full moon you strengthen its powers. You don’t exactly know what it’ll do but you hope the wolves go mad. Their howls explode through the night sky and you grin. But it falls from your face as you notice their growls growing closer.

They’re breaking through the tree-line and pouncing on you in moments. Their claws digging into your flesh, all of them marking you as they wish. Using their hold on you they pull you left and right, trying to get you to swallow their cock, pump their shafts, clench around their cocks, and split open your ass.

After a night lost in a pleasure you’ve never known, they suggest you moving into their pack house. You’re too fucked out to disagree, your body aching and your heart fluttering with the realization they’ll be able to take you like this whenever you want. And take you they do. Over and over again. They can’t get enough of you, their perfect mate. And they made you feel so damn good. Not only in the rough and loving way they fucked you senseless but in the way they cared for you and cherished you beyond reason or sanity.

While you once thought of them as a nuisance, an issue you had to deal with in your forest, that had all changed now. You wouldn’t give up your pack of werewolves for anything in the world. They were your mates and you were theirs and you couldn’t imagine ever being happier.

[reallygroovyninja]

Eden

The crowd was a living, breathing wave of energy, and Clarke thrived in it. She strutted across the stage, her voice a weapon that commanded the room. The heavy beat of the last song thumped through the venue, a pump-up anthem that had every person on their feet, fists in the air, singing along. Clarke grinned as she belted out the final chorus, sweat dripping down her face, her heart racing with the high of performing. 

From the wings, Raven and Octavia stood in the shadows, trying to figure out who Clarke had been eyeing all night. 

“It’s gotta be the blonde,” Raven yelled, nodding toward the front row, where a tall blonde had been practically worshipping Clarke from the start. Her eyes were wide, lips mouthing every word Clarke sang, body swaying in time with the music. 

Octavia squinted, leaning forward for a better look. “I don’t know. I think it’s the brunette. She’s barely paying attention, and you know how Clarke loves a challenge.” 

Raven tilted her head, sizing up the brunette, who stood a few seats over from the blonde. She was texting on her phone and occasionally, she’d glance at Clarke, but mostly she seemed unfazed by the chaos around her. 

“True, Clarke could be into that whole 'I’m not interested' vibe,” Raven mused, her eyes flicking between the two women. 

They both knew the routine well. By the end of the night, it would be up to them to figure out who Clarke had locked onto. It was a pattern they had grown used to—find the omega Clarke had been watching and somehow convince her to head to Clarke’s hotel room for the night. That’s how it always went, and Raven and Octavia always had to make sure they didn’t screw up the choice. 

As the music began to build toward the final note, Raven bit her lip. “So, we picking the brunette, then?” 

Octavia nodded. “Yeah, she’s got that unattainable thing going on. Clarke loves to win over omegas like that.” 

“Alright,” Raven said, glancing at Clarke as she worked the stage, commanding the crowd like a queen. “We go with the brunette.” 

Clarke’s voice hit its peak, the last note hanging in the air for a split second. The crowd exploded, cheering and screaming for more. Clarke turned toward the audience, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Her eyes flashed, and then—just as Raven and Octavia prepared to move—Clarke pointed directly at the blonde in the front row and winked. 

Raven and Octavia froze, their mouths dropping open. 

“Shit,” Raven muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. 

Octavia laughed, slapping Raven’s arm playfully. “We were so close!” 

“I swear I thought it was the brunette,” Raven groaned, rubbing her arm. 

“Well, guess we know our job,” Octavia said, already moving toward the stairs that would lead them down to the front row. “Let’s go grab blondie before she passes out from excitement.” 

Raven smirked. “Yeah, no kidding. Clarke’s gonna have fun with this one.” 

As Clarke stood on the stage, basking in the adoration of her fans, Raven and Octavia disappeared into the crowd, ready to find the omega Clarke had picked for the night. 

Backstage was buzzing with energy, the air thick with the mix of sweat, alcohol, and post-show euphoria. Clarke leaned against a food table, a bottle of tequila in hand, her leather jacket hanging off her shoulders as she took a long, slow drink. Around her, Bellamy and Finn were celebrating hard, already surrounded by a few fans they had picked to come backstage, their intentions clear. 

Finn had his arm slung casually around the waist of a girl who looked like she had been front row, her wide eyes still reflecting the excitement of the night. Bellamy was deep in conversation with two others, a smirk on his face, already halfway through a drink of his own. They all knew how the night would likely end—with them taking these fans back to their rooms for more than just casual conversation. 

Clarke watched the scene with a lazy grin, her body still buzzing from the adrenaline of the performance, but her mind already elsewhere. The music, the crowd, the lights—it had all faded. Her focus now was on the blonde she’d been eyeing during the entire show. Every time she locked eyes with her, Clarke could feel the spark. Now, she just wanted to finish this drink and get out of here. 

Octavia approached, weaving her way through the crowd of fans and bandmates, stopping in front of Clarke with her usual easy confidence. “Well, good news,” she started with a smirk. “Blonde’s gonna be at the hotel, waiting.” 

Clarke’s grin widened, the anticipation creeping through her. She took another swig from the tequila bottle and wiped her mouth, the alcohol doing nothing to calm the growing heat in her body. “Good,” she muttered, rolling her neck. “I’m ready to get out of here. I’m horny as hell.” 

Octavia chuckled, crossing her arms as she watched Clarke with amusement. “Yeah, you looked like it. You couldn’t take your eyes off her the whole night.” 

Clarke shrugged, unabashed. “What can I say? Girl’s got a vibe.” She tipped the bottle in Octavia’s direction. “The rest of you enjoy the party. I’ve got better things waiting for me at the hotel.” 

Octavia nodded, her eyes briefly flicking toward Bellamy and Finn, who were well on their way to making their own connections with the fans lingering nearby. “Don’t worry, we’ll hold down the fort here. You go do what you do.” 

Clarke tossed the now-empty bottle on a nearby table and pulled her jacket up. “Tell the driver to get ready,” she said, already turning to head for the door. “I’m not wasting any more time.” 

As she left the room, Octavia called after her, “Don’t break her too fast, Clarke. You know how you get.” 

Clarke threw a smirk over her shoulder without stopping. “No promises.” 

With that, she was out the door, ready to put the night’s performance behind her and focus on what, or who, was waiting for her at the hotel. 

Clarke pushed open the door to the hotel room, the dim lighting casting a soft glow across the space. Her eyes immediately landed on the blonde sitting at the end of the bed, her back straight, one leg crossed over the other, casually holding the remote as she watched TV. The moment the blonde noticed Clarke stepping into the room, her eyes widened, and she quickly fumbled to shut off the television, tossing the remote aside as she stood up from the bed. 

Clarke’s lips curled into a smirk as she took in the sight of the omega, standing nervously by the bed, trying to compose herself. Without a word, Clarke shrugged off her jacket, letting it slide down her shoulders and fall carelessly to the floor. The soft thud of leather against the carpet made the blonde’s breath hitch. 

Clarke took slow, deliberate steps toward her, her presence filling the room as her eyes stayed locked on the omega. The blonde didn’t move, standing rooted in place as Clarke came to a stop right in front of her, the space between them electric. Clarke could feel the tension radiating from the omega, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air. 

Clarke tilted her head slightly, her voice low and smooth as she asked, “What’s your name?” 

“N-Niylah,” the blonde stammered, her voice soft, but her gaze never left Clarke’s. 

A slow grin spread across Clarke’s face, her voice dipping into a teasing growl. “Pretty name,” she murmured. “I’ll be sure to say it when I come… as I fuck you.” 

Niylah’s breath caught, her lips parting slightly as Clarke’s words sank in. The heat between them was undeniable, and Clarke didn’t waste another second. She reached up, gently cupping the back of Niylah’s neck, her fingers threading through the blonde’s hair as she pulled her in. 

Their lips crashed together in a deep, hungry kiss, Clarke’s tongue parting Niylah’s mouth, tasting the sweet warmth of her. The kiss was intense, passionate, and filled with the promise of what was to come. Niylah melted against Clarke, her hands instinctively gripping Clarke’s waist as if needing to steady herself from the surge of heat rushing through her body. 

Clarke deepened the kiss, her hands roaming down Niylah’s back, pulling her even closer as their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling in a heated exchange.  

Clarke didn’t waste any time. As soon as their lips connected, she started tugging at Niylah’s clothes, her fingers quickly finding the hem of the blonde’s shirt and pulling it over her head. She continued kissing her, barely breaking contact, her hands moving to the bra Niylah was wearing, kneading her breasts through the fabric. Niylah gasped into Clarke’s mouth, her body arching into the touch, and Clarke smirked against her lips. 

With practiced ease, Clarke’s hands traveled down Niylah’s body, reaching the waistband of her pants. She unbuttoned them, then tugged down the zipper, her knuckles brushing the soft skin of Niylah’s stomach. The omega let out a soft whimper as Clarke pushed the fabric down, making her intentions clear with every movement. 

But Niylah wasn’t about to just stand there and let Clarke take control. Her hands were already tugging at Clarke’s shirt, her fingers working quickly to pull it up and over Clarke’s head. Their lips only parted for a second before they crashed together again, the heat between them intensifying. Niylah’s hands moved to Clarke’s back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. 

Clarke growled low in her throat as Niylah’s fingers found the waistband of her jeans, quickly undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. With one swift motion, Niylah pushed the denim down Clarke’s hips, her movements growing bolder as her eyes flicked down to Clarke’s boxer briefs. 

Dropping to her knees, Niylah pressed her face against the front of Clarke’s briefs, inhaling the musky scent of her. Clarke’s breath hitched, her hands finding their way into Niylah’s hair, fingers tightening as Niylah rubbed her cheek against the fabric, her lips brushing lightly over the bulge beneath. 

“Fuck…” Clarke muttered, her voice low and ragged as she looked down at the sight of Niylah on her knees, ready and eager. 

Niylah’s hands rested on Clarke’s hips, her fingers dipping just inside the waistband of the boxer briefs, teasing the edge as she continued to rub her face against the heated fabric. The anticipation between them hung thick in the air, the promise of what was to come making Clarke’s pulse race even faster. 

“Take them off,” Clarke rasped, her voice dripping with hunger as she gazed down at Niylah, who was more than ready to obey. 

Niylah didn’t hesitate. As soon as Clarke gave the order, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of Clarke’s boxer briefs and tugged them down. The fabric slipped past Clarke’s hips, and Niylah’s eyes went wide as Clarke’s cock sprang free. She had known Clarke was big—everyone talked about it—but seeing it like this was something else entirely. 

Clarke noticed the look in Niylah’s eyes and grinned. “Like what you see?” she asked, her voice low and dripping with arrogance. 

Niylah nodded, her breath catching as she shook her head quickly in disbelief, a quiet “Yes” escaping her lips. Without wasting a second, she leaned forward, her hands wrapping around Clarke’s cock as she started to work her magic. Her lips parted, and she took Clarke into her mouth, her tongue swirling as she set a perfect rhythm, her touch skilled and eager. 

Clarke groaned, her hand instinctively finding its way into Niylah’s hair again, guiding her as she bobbed up and down. “Fuck, you’re good,” Clarke muttered, her voice coming out in ragged breaths. The way Niylah moved, the way her tongue worked over every inch, was enough to make Clarke’s head spin. 

But as good as it felt, Clarke wasn’t ready to lose control like this. She wanted more—she wanted to be inside Niylah, not just come down her throat. 

With a frustrated growl, Clarke tightened her grip on Niylah’s hair, pulling her off gently. “Stop,” she panted, her voice hoarse. Niylah looked up at her, eyes wide and lips glistening, as if she was waiting for more. 

Clarke smirked down at her, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I don’t want to come like this. I want to be inside you,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

Niylah’s eyes darkened with anticipation, and she stood up slowly, licking her lips as she waited for Clarke’s next command. 

“Strip,” Clarke ordered, her voice firm and dripping with hunger. “The rest of the way. And get on the bed.” 

Niylah obeyed immediately, slipping out of the rest of her clothes, her body moving with a grace that only made Clarke’s desire burn hotter. Once she was completely bare, Niylah climbed onto the bed, her skin glowing under the soft lighting as she settled in, waiting for Clarke to take her. 

Clarke's gaze darkened with lust at the sight of the omega lying there, ready for her. It made the heat building inside Clarke burn even hotter. With a slow, deliberate breath, she spoke, her voice commanding and dripping with intent. “On your hands and knees,” Clarke growled. 

Niylah didn’t hesitate. She immediately shifted, positioning herself on all fours, arching her back in a way that made Clarke's cock throb with anticipation. Clarke’s eyes roamed over the perfect curve of Niylah’s body, her skin flushed and glowing in the soft light. 

Clarke quickly kicked off her boots and stepped out of her jeans and boxer briefs, leaving her completely bare. She climbed onto the bed with a predatory grace, positioning herself behind Niylah, her hands sliding over the omega’s hips, taking in the warmth of her skin. 

Leaning in close, Clarke’s lips brushed Niylah’s ear as she whispered, “I’m going to give you the best fuck of your life.” 

Before Niylah could respond, Clarke gripped her hips firmly and thrust into her, the sensation overwhelming them both. Niylah gasped, her body trembling as Clarke filled her completely. Clarke didn’t hold back, immediately setting a relentless pace, her hips slamming into Niylah with precision and power. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, accompanied by Niylah’s moans, growing louder with each thrust. Clarke’s grip tightened as she drove into the omega over and over, her body moving with a desperate hunger. Every inch of Niylah responded to Clarke’s rhythm, her back arching and her breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Clarke growled in satisfaction, her focus unwavering as she pounded into Niylah harder, faster, determined to make good on her promise. “You feel so good,” Clarke rasped, her voice hoarse from the exertion. The pleasure building inside her was a fire that threatened to consume her, but she kept control, her only goal now to bring Niylah over the edge before she let herself go. 

Niylah's moans filled the room, her body rocking with Clarke’s movements, completely lost to the sensation of Clarke taking her so thoroughly. Clarke knew she was close, could feel it in the way Niylah’s body tightened around her with every thrust, and she wasn’t going to stop until she had the omega completely undone beneath her. 

Clarke could feel the power she held over Niylah, knowing full well she could outlast the omega. Every thrust sent shockwaves through Niylah’s trembling body, and Clarke reveled in the way the omega dropped down onto her forearms, gripping the sheets as if her life depended on it. Niylah’s knuckles were white, her body surrendering completely to the rhythm Clarke set. 

Without breaking stride, Clarke slid her hand around Niylah’s body, her fingers quickly finding the omega’s swollen, sensitive clit. It only took a few strokes—her touch firm and relentless—and Niylah’s body tensed under her. The omega cried out, her body spasming around Clarke as she came hard, her moans muffled as her face pressed into the bed. 

But Clarke wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. 

Even as Niylah trembled beneath her, Clarke kept pounding into her, her movements strong and unyielding. She had promised Niylah the best fuck of her life, and Clarke was determined to deliver. Her fingers never stopped, still teasing Niylah’s clit, pushing her beyond what she thought she could handle. Clarke could feel the omega starting to come undone all over again, her body arching and trembling as pleasure coursed through her. 

“You’re not done yet,” Clarke growled, her voice rough and full of hunger as she pressed harder against Niylah’s clit, knowing exactly how to bring her to the brink once more. 

Niylah’s breath hitched, her body quivering as Clarke thrust into, her pace unrelenting. Every snap of Clarke’s hips drove Niylah closer to another climax, and Clarke could feel her own release building, the heat in her core intensifying with every movement. 

Clarke could sense Niylah on the edge again, her cries growing desperate as her body responded to every thrust, every touch. With a groan, Clarke doubled down, pounding into Niylah with everything she had, determined to make the omega come one final time before she let herself go. 

Niylah’s body tensed beneath her as she came again, a broken cry escaping her lips as her body shook, completely overwhelmed. Clarke felt the tightness around her, the way Niylah clenched, and it pushed her over the edge too. With one final, powerful thrust, Clarke buried herself deep inside Niylah, her own release crashing through her. 

“Niylah,” Clarke growled as her climax hit, her voice hoarse as she filled the omega completely, her body shuddering with the intensity of her release. 

For a moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing, the lingering heat of their passion still thick in the air. Clarke stayed pressed against Niylah’s trembling body, her chest rising and falling as the last waves of her orgasm subsided. She smirked, satisfied, knowing she had kept her word. 

Clarke pulled out slowly, feeling Niylah’s body tremble one last time before she rolled onto her back, collapsing onto the bed. Niylah let out a quiet sigh, her legs sliding down until she lay on her stomach, her cheek resting against the cool sheets. They both lay there for a moment, the room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, the heat of the encounter still lingering in the air. 

After a beat, Clarke raised herself up, propping on one elbow. She glanced at Niylah and smirked, her voice low as she caught her breath. “That was fun,” she said, her tone casual, as if she were discussing nothing more than a good night out. “You can stay here if you want. Order room service or whatever.” 

Niylah blinked, her breath still uneven as she slowly pushed herself up, watching Clarke move. She was confused at first, but as she watched Clarke swing her legs off the bed and start looking for her clothes scattered around the room, realization sank in. Clarke wasn’t staying. 

“Are you leaving?” Niylah asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant. She sat up a little more, her eyes searching Clarke’s face for some hint of connection that might make her stay. 

Clarke didn’t look up as she stepped into her jeans and fastened them, her tone matter-of-fact. “Yeah, I’ve got my own room. But you’re good to stay here for the night.” She shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Order room service, crash for the night. Check out is at noon.” 

Niylah bit her lip, watching as Clarke grabbed her shirt, pulling it over her head and straightening it out. Clarke didn’t miss a beat, her focus already shifting away from the omega who had just been trembling under her touch minutes ago. 

As Clarke reached the door, her hand on the knob, she glanced over her shoulder with that same confident smirk. “When I’m back in town for a show, I’d love to fuck you again,” she said, her voice casual but laced with the same raw hunger from earlier. 

Niylah nodded slowly, unsure of what to say as Clarke gave her a final wink before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway, leaving the omega alone in the quiet hotel room. 

Clarke strolled through the sleek private terminal of the airport, looking effortlessly put together. Her leather jacket hung over her shoulder, sunglasses resting on top of her head, and not a hint of exhaustion on her face. Behind her, Bellamy and Finn trudged along, looking anything but refreshed. Their hair was disheveled, dark circles under their eyes, and both moved sluggishly, as if the weight of the previous night’s fun had finally caught up with them. 

Clarke glanced over her shoulder, a smirk playing on her lips. “You two look like hell,” she teased, voice light and full of amusement. “Maybe next time, leave the omegas you fuck in one room and get yourselves a second room like I do. Then you might actually get some sleep.” 

Finn shot her a look, eyes barely open behind his dark sunglasses. “Not everyone’s as emotionally unavailable as you, Clarke.” 

Bellamy groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, Clarke, we can’t all detach ourselves that easily. Some of us like to… stick around afterward.” 

Clarke laughed, shaking her head. “That’s your problem right there. You stick around too long. The key is in and out. Fun in one room, sleep in the other. Works like a charm.” 

Before Bellamy or Finn could respond, Octavia and Raven sauntered over, looking far more awake and ready to go. Octavia had her phone in hand, checking something as they approached. 

“Plane’s boarding in a few minutes,” Octavia said, glancing up. “Better get your act together before we hit Polis. You guys look like you haven’t slept in days.” 

Raven chuckled, nodding toward Clarke. “Guess someone here actually took her own advice and managed to sleep last night.” 

Clarke shrugged, grinning as she gestured toward Finn and Bellamy. “I told them. They just don’t listen.” 

“Lincoln’s on his way,” Raven added, looking around for their manager. “He’s been finalizing everything for the next show.” 

Bellamy groaned, rubbing his temples. “Great, I hope he brought coffee.” 

Clarke snickered. “What you need is a nap. But hey, maybe when we’re up in the air, you can catch some Z’s. Assuming you don’t pass out before we even hit the runway.” 

Just as she said it, Lincoln came striding toward them from the other side of the terminal, his phone still in hand, his expression focused. As the manager of the band, he was always two steps ahead, juggling logistics and schedules to make sure everything ran smoothly. 

“Everyone good?” Lincoln asked as he reached them, pocketing his phone. His gaze shifted from Clarke’s relaxed stance to Bellamy and Finn’s ragged appearance. “We’ve got a tight schedule once we land in Polis. Get what rest you can on the plane.” 

Clarke grinned, nudging Bellamy with her elbow. “See? Even Lincoln knows you two look like shit.” 

Bellamy groaned again, but couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Just get me on the plane already.” 

Clarke chuckled as they began making their way toward the gate. The private jet was ready, and soon they’d be on their way to the next show. For Clarke, it was just another stop on the tour—another night to do what she did best. 

The private jet touched down smoothly in Polis, the hum of the engines fading as the plane taxied to a stop. Inside, Bellamy and Finn were still sprawled out in their seats, having slept the entire two-hour flight. Meanwhile, Clarke had been busy the whole time—jotting down new song lyrics in her notebook while chatting with Raven, Octavia, and Lincoln about the next few shows. Her mind was always spinning with ideas, the energy from the tour fueling her creativity. 

As the cabin door opened and the band began to gather their things, Clarke stretched lazily, glancing down at the notebook full of half-finished lyrics. She’d been in a good groove today, but now it was time to focus on the next gig. Finn and Bellamy slowly stirred awake, groaning as they rubbed their eyes. 

Lincoln, always on top of the schedule, was already up and moving toward the exit. “Alright, everyone,” he called over his shoulder as they started filing out of the jet and toward the waiting limo. “We’ve got an appearance at the student radio station of Polis University before we can check into the hotel.” 

Bellamy and Finn both groaned in unison, still groggy from their nap. “Come on, man,” Bellamy mumbled, rubbing his face. “Can’t we at least hit the hotel first?” 

Clarke, however, grinned widely, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Polis University, huh? Sounds like fun.” 

Octavia rolled her eyes as they climbed into the limo, sliding into her seat next to Raven. “Clarke, seriously,” she said with a teasing tone, “don’t hit on the freshmen. They may be legal, but not that legal.” 

Clarke chuckled, leaning back in her seat. “Relax, O. I’ll behave… probably.” 

Lincoln shot her a warning glance but couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just keep it professional, Clarke. We’re here for a quick promo, not for you to make another headline.” 

Clarke grinned but didn’t say anything, still buzzing from the idea of the stop at the university. Finn and Bellamy grumbled a little more, but Clarke didn’t mind. She was ready to make the most of the appearance, and who knew? There was always a chance something—or someone—interesting might catch her eye at Polis University. 

The limo pulled up to the curb in front of a large student building, and the band members inside immediately noticed the sea of students gathered outside. Signs waved above the crowd: Eden Forever ... Clarke, Marry Me ... Finn, I Want to Have Your Baby. The fans were buzzing with excitement, shouting and cheering as soon as they spotted the limo’s arrival. 

Clarke smirked as she peered out the tinted windows. “Looks like we’ve got a warm welcome,” she said, adjusting her sunglasses before stepping out of the limo. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. 

Bellamy, Finn, and Clarke all waved at the fans, soaking in the energy. Finn shook his head, still half-asleep from the flight but managing a grin as he read the baby-sign. “Really? That one never gets old,” he muttered under his breath. 

Clarke laughed. “You should be flattered, Finn. They’re devoted.” 

The band took a few moments to snap pictures with some of the students at the front of the crowd. Clarke threw her arms around a few, flashing her signature grin for the cameras. Bellamy and Finn followed suit, offering high-fives and quick selfies as they moved through the sea of hands and excited voices. 

After a few minutes, a student with a confident stride approached them. She was tall, with dark hair and piercing eyes, and wore a jacket with the Polis University emblem stitched onto it. She stopped in front of Clarke and the others, offering a polite but brisk smile. 

“I’m Ontari,” she said, her tone businesslike. “I’m here to escort you to the station. We’re thrilled to have Eden here at Polis University.” 

“Thanks,” Clarke said, offering a casual nod. The group followed Ontari as she led them through the crowd and into the building, leaving the fans still chanting outside. 

Once inside, they entered a small lobby. It was a quiet contrast to the chaos outside, the hum of air conditioning filling the space. Posters of upcoming university events lined the walls, and a few couches were scattered around. Ontari turned to face them, still all business. 

“You’ll be talking with two of our DJs today, Monty and Harper,” she explained, gesturing to the seating area. “They’re on the air right now, but they’ll be out to greet you shortly.” 

“Cool,” Raven said, settling into one of the chairs. Clarke leaned against the arm of a couch, still buzzing from the crowd’s energy outside. Finn and Bellamy flopped onto the cushions, looking slightly more alive than they had on the flight over. 

Ontari checked her phone and looked up again. “They’ll be out in just a few. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Monty and Harper emerged from the studio, wide smiles on their faces as they approached the band. Monty, leading the way, extended a hand to Clarke, who was still leaning casually against the couch, her sunglasses now perched on top of her head. 

“Hey, I’m Monty,” he said, shaking Clarke’s hand. “We’ve been looking forward to this.” 

Harper was right behind him, grinning as she introduced herself. ��And I’m Harper. So excited to have Eden here with us.” 

Clarke returned the smile, nodding at both of them. “Appreciate it. We’re excited to be here, too.” 

Monty and Harper went down the line, shaking hands with Bellamy, Finn, Raven, Lincoln and Octavia. Everyone exchanged quick pleasantries, but the band members seemed more awake and alert now, the initial grogginess from the flight wearing off. 

As Monty and Harper settled into seats across from the band, Monty spoke up. “Just so you know, our professor was supposed to join us for this, but she got caught in a meeting. She’ll be here ASAP, though.” 

“Got it,” Clarke replied, not fazed. She settled back into her seat, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Monty and Harper prepare. 

“Cool, cool,” Harper said, glancing down at her notepad. “So, we wanted to run through a few of the questions we’ll be asking during the segment. First off, we’ll definitely want to dive into how you guys came up with the name Eden. I know a lot of fans are curious about that.” 

Clarke exchanged a knowing look with the rest of the band, a smirk playing on her lips. “That story always gets attention.” 

Monty grinned. “I bet. And we’ll also touch on the latest songs—what inspired them, the creative process behind them. We’ve been following your new releases closely.” 

Harper added, “We’ll probably ask about how the tour’s been going so far, too. We’ve heard nothing but amazing things about your live performances.” 

Clarke nodded, relaxed but engaged. “Yeah, the tour’s been wild. We’ve got some good stories for you.” 

Finn leaned forward, chiming in for the first time. “Trust me, the inspiration behind the latest track? People don’t know half of it. Can’t wait to share.” 

Harper’s eyebrows raised, clearly intrigued. “We can’t wait to hear it.” 

Monty glanced up from his notes. “Anything else you guys want to discuss? We’re happy to cover whatever you think the fans would love to know about.” 

Clarke glanced at Lincoln, who gave her a nod, signaling they were good to go. “Nah, that all sounds great. We’re open books—throw whatever you’ve got at us.” 

Monty smiled, closing his notepad. “Awesome. We’ll get started after the break. Sit tight for a bit, and then we’ll bring you in.” 

The band settled in, the easy energy between them setting the stage for what was sure to be a lively interview. 

Monty and Harper led Clarke, Finn, and Bellamy down a short hallway and into the small, cozy studio. The space was filled with shelves lined with records and posters of past guests, and the faint hum of equipment filled the air. They all took their seats near the microphones, sliding on the headphones as they settled in. Clarke, looking relaxed as ever, adjusted the mic in front of her while Bellamy and Finn followed suit, glancing around the room. 

Through the glass in the control room, the producer gave a quick wave. “Hey, I’m Jasper,” he said through the intercom, his voice slightly muffled by the glass. “We’re coming back on air in two minutes, so just hang tight.” 

Clarke gave a thumbs up, her eyes scanning the room with a casual, confident air. Finn yawned, still shaking off the last bit of post-flight grogginess, while Bellamy leaned back in his chair, waiting patiently for the show to start. 

The seconds ticked by, and just before they went live, Monty and Harper adjusted their headphones, exchanging a quick glance before Monty spoke up. 

“Alright, we’re back on air, and we’ve got something special for all you listeners out there today,” Monty said, his voice smooth and practiced, immediately grabbing the attention of anyone tuned in. “Joining us in the studio is none other than Eden, one of the hottest bands on the scene right now.” 

Harper chimed in, her excitement clear. “That’s right! We’ve got Clarke, Finn, and Bellamy from Eden with us, and we can’t wait to dive into some questions about their tour, their music, and everything in between.” 

Clarke leaned into the mic, flashing a grin that was practically audible. “Thanks for having us. It’s great to be here.” 

Monty smiled and nodded, leaning forward as he spoke into his mic. “So let’s get right into it. First off, we’ve gotta ask—how did you guys come up with the name Eden? It’s become iconic.” 

Clarke glanced at her bandmates, a playful smirk on her lips. “That’s always a fun story. We wanted something that captured the idea of paradise—this idea of creating our own perfect world, you know? But also something with a bit of edge to it. We landed on Eden because it felt like it had this duality. Like, paradise, but with the potential for chaos.” 

Finn chuckled beside her. “And let’s be real, we liked how it sounded.” 

Harper laughed, nodding. “It definitely sticks. Your fans love it.” 

Monty leaned in next, switching gears. “Speaking of your fans, you’ve had a pretty wild tour so far. What’s it been like playing for such massive crowds?” 

Bellamy, looking more awake now, took the lead. “It’s been intense, man. The energy’s insane every night. We’ve had some shows where we couldn’t even hear ourselves over the crowd.” 

Clarke nodded in agreement, her grin widening. “Honestly, the fans make the shows what they are. We feed off that energy, and it just takes everything to another level.” 

Harper jotted down notes as the conversation flowed easily. “That’s awesome. And we’ve gotta talk about the latest single—it’s been blowing up. Can you tell us a little about the inspiration behind it?” 

Clarke exchanged a glance with Finn, the two of them sharing a knowing look. “Oh, we’ve got stories,” Clarke teased, leaning closer to the mic as the band prepared to give fans a deeper glimpse into their world. 

The interview was flowing smoothly. Clarke, Bellamy, and Finn were in their element, answering questions with ease, sharing stories from the tour, and cracking jokes that had Monty and Harper laughing along. The energy in the room was light and relaxed, a natural back-and-forth between the band and the DJs. 

Clarke was in the middle of talking about the inspiration behind one of their recent songs when, through the glass of the control room, Jasper motioned to them that a commercial break was coming up in a minute. Clarke gave a small nod to acknowledge it, not missing a beat in her explanation. 

“…so that song really came from a place of, like, frustration and—” Clarke stopped mid-sentence, her words trailing off as movement caught her eye. A figure had entered the control room, drawing Clarke’s attention away from the conversation. It was a woman, tall and sharp, her presence commanding even from across the glass. 

For a split second, Clarke stared, her thoughts derailed, completely losing her train of thought. 

Monty, Harper, and the rest of the band didn’t seem to notice right away, but Raven shot her a quick glance from her spot near the back, noticing the sudden pause. 

Clarke blinked, quickly snapping back into focus, her grip tightening slightly around the microphone. “Uh, sorry,” she said, regaining her composure. “What I meant was, the song really came from a place of frustration, but we wanted to channel that into something raw but uplifting, you know? So it’s not just about anger but about the release that comes with it.” 

Harper, unaware of the brief moment of distraction, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that really comes through in the track. It’s powerful.” 

Clarke forced a small smile, her mind still distracted by the figure in the control room. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something about the woman that had thrown her off—something familiar, maybe. But she pushed it aside, knowing they were about to go to a break and that she could collect her thoughts then. 

As Jasper motioned that they were on a commercial break, the door to the studio opened, and the woman who had caught Clarke’s attention earlier stepped in. She moved with quiet confidence, her eyes sharp and focused as she approached the group. 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Alexandria Woods, but you can call me Lexa” she introduced herself with a polite smile, her voice soft but steady. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier—I had a meeting.” 

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. Alexandria Woods. The name floated in the air, but it was something else about her that hit Clarke harder. There was an undeniable pull, a connection she couldn’t quite explain. She’d never felt anything like this before with an omega—not this intensity, not this immediate sense of something more. 

Clarke sat up a little straighter, suddenly very aware of the way her pulse had quickened. Her eyes locked on the professor, unable to look away, and for a brief moment, it was as if the room faded around them. There was something about the way Lexa carried herself—strong, sure, yet restrained—that tugged at Clarke in a way she hadn’t expected. 

Lexa glanced briefly at Clarke, their eyes meeting for just a second longer than what was typical for a quick introduction. Clarke swallowed, trying to regain control of herself. She had never been thrown off like this by an omega—especially not in the middle of something as routine as an interview. 

Before Clarke could say anything, Jasper’s voice came through the intercom again. “We’re back on in 30 seconds.” 

Alexandria Woods—Lexa, Clarke mentally corrected—gave the group a quick nod and stepped back into the control room with a calm professionalism, though Clarke’s gaze followed her the entire way. She was aware of the hitch in her breath, the way her body seemed almost hyper-aware of Lexa’s presence, even after she had left the studio. 

Across the table, Raven and Octavia exchanged confused glances, watching Clarke with raised eyebrows. They shrugged at each other, not entirely sure what they had just witnessed but clearly noticing the way Clarke was affected. Clarke, however, barely noticed them. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of this sudden and intense reaction. 

The countdown ticked down, and the interview was about to resume. But even as Clarke adjusted her headphones and prepared to answer the next question, her thoughts remained firmly on the woman who had just walked out of the room—the omega who had made her feel something she hadn’t expected to ever feel. 

As the interview resumed, Clarke answered the questions with practiced ease, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. Every few seconds, her gaze flicked over to the control room, unable to stop herself from glancing at Lexa. Lexa, however, didn’t seem to notice Clarke watching her. She stood in the booth, casually chatting with Jasper, completely focused on whatever they were discussing. Clarke felt a strange tug in her chest each time she saw Lexa’s profile, that same inexplicable pull she had felt when Lexa first entered the room. 

Clarke tried to keep her focus on the conversation at hand. Monty and Harper were both throwing enthusiastic questions at the band, but every time Clarke responded, her eyes would drift, even for just a moment, toward Lexa in the booth. Her mind was racing with thoughts, trying to make sense of the connection she felt with this omega she’d just met. 

Finally, the interview began to wind down. Monty leaned into his mic, his smile evident even through his voice. “Well, I think we can all agree that was an amazing interview. Thanks again to Eden for joining us today!” 

Harper nodded, chiming in. “Yeah, seriously, that was awesome. We loved having you guys here. This was one of the best interviews we’ve done.” 

Clarke smiled, shaking their hands and exchanging some final words with them. Finn and Bellamy thanked the hosts as well, laughing at a few jokes about the tour. But as Clarke spoke with Harper and Monty, she couldn’t shake the feeling of something missing. When she turned back toward the control room, Lexa was gone. The booth was empty except for Jasper, who was busy tidying up some equipment. Clarke’s heart sank a little—she hadn’t even noticed Lexa slip out. 

Clarke quickly scanned the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of Lexa, but she was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that settled over her. The omega who had completely thrown her off her game had just vanished as quietly as she’d appeared. 

Raven walked over, giving Clarke a nudge. “Looking for someone?” 

Clarke blinked, quickly shaking off the thought. “Nah,” she muttered, trying to act nonchalant. “Just... thought I saw something.” 

Octavia, catching the tail end of the exchange, raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, her smirk saying enough. 

Clarke pushed it aside for now, knowing they still had other things to take care of. But she couldn’t deny that Lexa’s absence left her feeling unsettled, a strange ache she couldn’t quite explain lingering in her chest. 

After the band wrapped up at the radio station, they headed to their hotel for a bit of downtime before the afternoon sound check. Clarke was quiet during the ride, her thoughts drifting back to Professor Lexa Woods. That brief moment in the studio, the way Lexa had captivated her with just a glance, stuck in her mind more than she cared to admit. 

As they pulled up to the hotel, Lincoln was already moving efficiently, making sure everyone had their room keys in hand. "Rest up, sound check in a few hours," he reminded them, giving Bellamy and Finn a stern look as they stifled yawns. 

Clarke pocketed her key, watching as the others headed toward the elevators. Before she followed, she caught Raven’s eye and gave her a subtle nod to hang back. Raven paused, falling in step beside her as they lingered in the hotel lobby. 

“What’s up?” Raven asked, her voice casual, but the curiosity was clear in her tone. 

Clarke glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot, then spoke quietly. “I need you to do me a favor. Get Monty, Harper, and Jasper front row tickets for the concert tonight.” 

Raven raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “Sure, I can do that. No problem.” 

Clarke hesitated for a moment, then added, “And... I want Lexa there. Professor Woods. Get her a VIP ticket, backstage pass, everything. Whatever you have to do, I want her at the show.” 

Raven’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, her lips twitching into a sly grin. “VIP with a backstage pass, huh? You don’t usually go all out for someone like this. What’s so special about Professor Woods?” 

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Rae. Just... make it happen.” 

Raven chuckled, clearly enjoying Clarke’s unusual display of interest. “Alright, consider it done. I’ll get them all the tickets, and I’ll personally make sure Lexa gets the VIP treatment.” 

Clarke relaxed a little, grateful that Raven was taking it in stride. “Thanks. I owe you.” 

“You owe me big time,” Raven teased, giving her a playful nudge. “But I’ll get it done. Don’t worry.” 

Clarke watched as Raven walked off, her mind still buzzing. She didn’t fully understand the pull she felt toward Lexa, but she knew one thing for sure—she needed to see her again. And tonight, at the concert, she’d make sure of it. 

Clarke paced backstage, her hands resting on her hips as she tried to keep her cool. The distant thrum of the opening act's music reverberated through the walls, but her mind was elsewhere. Every so often, she’d sneak a peek out from behind the curtains, her eyes scanning the audience. Monty, Harper, and Jasper were already in their seats near the front, looking excited, chatting amongst themselves. But the two seats reserved for Lexa sat empty, and it gnawed at Clarke. 

She glanced at the door leading to the VIP area, hoping, maybe any second now. Lexa could still show up, right? But with each passing minute, the doubt grew. What if Lexa wasn’t coming? Clarke couldn’t shake the nerves that twisted in her gut. She wasn’t usually this wound up before a set—sure, she always had a little adrenaline pumping before a show, but this was different. Tonight, it was bad. 

If she does show up, who’s she bringing? The question gnawed at Clarke, feeding her unease. She tried not to think about it, but the thought kept creeping back into her mind. What if Lexa shows up with someone? What if it’s alpha? 

Clarke swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay focused. Of course, Lexa would bring a guest. VIP passes were given out in pairs, so it wouldn’t be unusual. But that didn’t mean Clarke liked the idea of Lexa showing up with someone. She quickly shoved the thought away. It’s fine, it’ll be fine, she told herself, though the butterflies in her stomach were getting worse. 

The opening act’s set was winding down, the crowd cheering as the band played their last song. Clarke rubbed her palms against her jeans, trying to settle her nerves. She caught Finn and Bellamy exchanging glances nearby, and Finn raised an eyebrow at her. 

“You alright?” Finn asked, his tone casual but laced with concern. “You’ve been on edge all night.” 

“Yeah,” Bellamy added, leaning against the wall. “You’re never this jittery before a show. What’s up?” 

Clarke shot them a quick, tight-lipped smile, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine,” she said, but her voice wasn’t as convincing as she’d hoped. “Just, you know, the usual pre-show stuff.” 

Finn gave her a look, clearly not buying it. “Right. Pre-show nerves.” 

Clarke didn’t respond, her eyes flicking back to the audience once more. The seats were still empty. She exhaled slowly, mentally preparing herself for the possibility that Lexa might not show. But a part of her—a big part—hoped Lexa would walk through those doors any second now. And if she did, Clarke couldn’t help but hope she’d be alone or, at the very least, with someone who wasn’t going to ruin whatever spark had been lit between them earlier that day. 

The opening act wrapped up their set to thunderous applause, and as the band came offstage, the roadies rushed to clear the equipment. The shift in energy backstage was electric as Eden's crew worked quickly to prepare the stage. But Clarke could hardly focus on any of it. Her stomach churned, the nerves twisting tighter with every second, until she couldn’t take it anymore. 

Without thinking, she found herself in the bathroom, gripping the sides of the sink and splashing cold water on her face. The sharp, icy drops dripped down her skin, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her. Clarke stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face drawn tight with tension. Her mind kept spinning back to those two empty seats in the audience. The possibility that Lexa wouldn’t show felt heavier now, and it gnawed at her. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there, lost in her thoughts, when the door creaked open behind her. 

“Clarke?” Raven’s voice was low, but the concern was obvious. She stepped inside, her gaze softening when she saw Clarke gripping the edge of the sink. “It’s time. We’re up.” 

Clarke blinked, snapping back to reality. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she wiped the water from her face with a paper towel. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered, straightening up. 

Raven watched her carefully, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Clarke forced a weak smile. “Just nerves,” she said, but they both knew that wasn’t the whole story. 

Raven didn’t push, though. “Alright. Let’s go kill it.” With that, she turned and walked out, leaving Clarke alone for just another moment. 

Clarke followed a beat later, her steps heavy as she moved toward the side of the stage. Finn and Bellamy were already in their positions, waiting for the cue. Clarke hung back, her heart racing in her chest as she prepared herself for what came next. 

The crowd was wild, the energy already buzzing with anticipation as the stage lights dimmed. The band’s equipment was in place, and everything was set. Clarke took a breath and glanced out from her position, her eyes naturally drawn to the VIP section, hoping—just hoping—to see Lexa there. 

And then she saw her. 

Lexa was sitting in one of the reserved seats, her posture calm and composed, watching the stage with quiet intensity. Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. Lexa had come. But it wasn’t just Lexa sitting there—she was with someone. 

Clarke’s breath hitched, her stomach sinking as her eyes shifted to the person beside Lexa. It was a tall brunette, her features sharp, and she seemed comfortable next to Lexa, almost too comfortable. Clarke’s jaw tightened as she looked away quickly, willing herself not to get distracted. 

You’re here to play a show, Clarke reminded herself, even as her heart twisted with something she didn’t want to name. She shook off the feeling, focusing on the music that was about to pour out of her. 

The opening chords rang out, Finn and Bellamy starting up the first song. Clarke stepped forward onto the stage, her heart racing with adrenaline and something deeper, something she couldn’t push away. As the lights hit her and the crowd roared, she took one final glance toward Lexa, hoping to focus on the performance and not the storm brewing inside her. 

The lights were bright and hot as Clarke stepped up to the mic, her heart still racing from the sight of Lexa sitting in the audience. She started singing the first few lines of the opening song, her voice smooth and powerful, filling the venue. The crowd erupted, feeding off her energy, but Clarke was doing her best to avoid looking too often in Lexa’s direction. Each time she risked a glance, that pull—so intense, so confusing—seemed to grow stronger. 

Song after song, Clarke tried to lose herself in the music, but Lexa was there, always in the corner of her vision, calm and composed, enjoying the show. Her companion, on the other hand, looked less than thrilled, sitting stiffly with barely a flicker of interest crossing their face. Clarke tried to push the distraction away, but it clung to her. 

As the set went on, Clarke knew the next song would slow things down—a ballad, one where she usually brought an omega from the audience up on stage to sing to. It was a signature moment for the band, and the fans loved it. Normally, Clarke didn’t think twice about picking someone, but tonight her first instinct was to grab Lexa. 

But that felt too strange. Too close. Too risky. 

Clarke shifted her weight, her eyes sweeping the crowd, trying to find someone else. Her gaze landed on a redhead near stage left. The girl was beaming up at her, hands clasped together, clearly caught up in the energy of the night. 

Perfect. 

Clarke flashed a grin as she walked toward the redhead, leaning down to offer her hand. The girl’s eyes went wide with excitement as Clarke helped her onto the stage, the crowd cheering as they saw what was happening. Clarke kept her smile in place, doing what she always did—focusing on the moment, the music, and the connection with the fan. 

But as she began to sing, her voice wrapping around the slow, sensual lyrics, her attention drifted. She couldn’t help it. She kept glancing toward where Lexa was sitting, trying to read her expression. Lexa seemed completely at ease, moving to the beat of the music, her lips forming the words as she sang along quietly. Clarke felt a spark of satisfaction seeing Lexa enjoying the concert, her body swaying ever so slightly in time with the song. 

But that satisfaction was tempered by the sight of Lexa’s companion. The woman beside her was the opposite of engaged—her arms were crossed, her face neutral, like she’d rather be anywhere else. The contrast was stark, and Clarke’s gaze flicked between them, trying to gauge the dynamic, but nothing about it made sense. 

Even as Clarke sang to the redhead, holding her gaze, the connection felt off. Clarke’s mind kept wandering, her thoughts pulling her back to Lexa, to the mystery of her presence and the strange intensity that still hung in the air between them. 

The redhead, blissfully unaware of Clarke’s inner turmoil, seemed overwhelmed by the moment, beaming as Clarke sang directly to her. The crowd cheered louder with every line, but all Clarke could think about was Lexa, sitting in the audience, so close yet so out of reach. 

When the song finally ended, Clarke gave the redhead a warm smile and helped her back down into the crowd. But as she stepped back to the mic, preparing for the next song, her thoughts were still with Lexa. No matter how hard she tried, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was going to be about more than just the music. 

Raven and Octavia stood off to the side in the wings, watching Clarke command the stage as the slow song came to an end. The crowd was electric, feeding off Clarke’s energy, but there was something different about her tonight. Octavia leaned closer to Raven, her voice low enough to keep their conversation private. 

“Has Clarke even really looked at any omegas in the audience tonight?” Octavia asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity. “I mean, she’s usually all about picking someone out, but she seems distracted.” 

Raven smiled, crossing her arms as she glanced toward Clarke. “O, just enjoy the show. Clarke’s got her eye on one omega tonight, and she’s handling it.” 

Octavia raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Raven’s comment. “What do you mean by that? She’s barely given the crowd the usual attention.” 

Raven sighed, realizing Octavia hadn’t been in the loop. “So, Clarke pulled me aside earlier,” she began, her voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone. “She asked me to give VIP tickets to Monty, Harper, and Jasper—cool, right? But then she specifically asked for the professor from Polis to be in the audience. You know, Professor Woods? The one who was at the radio station earlier today.” 

Octavia’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait, the professor? The omega?” 

Raven nodded, the smirk returning to her face. “Yeah, and Clarke’s been locked onto her ever since. She asked me to get her VIP treatment, backstage passes, the whole deal. I mean, I’ve never seen Clarke like this with anyone.” 

Octavia glanced back toward the stage, watching Clarke’s subtle glances toward the VIP section. “So that’s why she’s been so weird tonight,” Octavia muttered. “Clarke’s never had this kind of reaction to an omega before.” 

“Exactly,” Raven confirmed. “Whatever’s going on, it’s intense. And it’s not like Clarke to get rattled like this, but she’ll figure it out. She’s got this.” 

Octavia nodded thoughtfully, watching Clarke as she geared up for the next song. “Guess we’ll just have to see how it plays out.” 

“Yup,” Raven agreed, her gaze still on Clarke. “But trust me, she’s only got eyes for one omega tonight.” 

As Finn launched into his drum solo, the crowd roared, the rhythm pulsing through the venue as the lights danced across the stage. Clarke took the opportunity to step off to the side, her feet carrying her almost instinctively toward Raven and Octavia, who stood in the wings watching the show. 

Raven glanced up as Clarke approached, raising an eyebrow in question. “What’s up?” she asked over the sound of the drums. 

Clarke’s eyes flicked briefly to the audience, then back to Raven, her voice low and urgent. “I need you to do me a favor,” Clarke said, her gaze intense. “Try to get Lexa to come backstage after the show. I don’t care what you have to do—just make sure she comes back.” 

Raven smirked, the request not surprising given how Clarke had been acting all night. “I’ll do my best,” she promised, giving Clarke a nod. “But no guarantees. She seemed pretty composed out there.” 

Clarke pressed her lips into a tight line but nodded in return. “Thanks,” she muttered, her focus already drifting back toward the stage as Finn’s solo hit its final beats. She knew she had to get back in front of the crowd, but the thought of seeing Lexa backstage kept swirling in her mind. 

As Clarke stepped back to the center of the stage, ready to jump back into the performance, Octavia leaned over to Raven with a smirk of her own. “Clarke’s got it bad for this omega,” she murmured, shaking her head. “And what? She’s maybe said three words to the professor?” 

Raven chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. “I know, right? It’s kind of hilarious. Clarke doesn’t even know what hit her.” 

Octavia glanced out at the crowd, her eyes settling on Lexa’s VIP seat, where the professor sat with her companion. “Well, whatever it is, Clarke’s completely hooked.” 

As the drum solo ended, Clarke stepped up to the mic, her usual confidence back in place, but Octavia and Raven exchanged knowing looks. They could see the subtle shift in Clarke—the way her focus was split between the performance and the omega sitting in the VIP section. 

The night was winding down, the show finally coming to a close after an explosive set. Clarke stood at the center of the stage, feeling the energy of the crowd pulse through her. They were electric, still buzzing, not wanting the night to end. Normally, she would’ve finished after two encore songs, but tonight something was different. As the band wrapped up the second encore, Clarke glanced toward Bellamy and Finn, giving them a subtle nod. 

Without warning, Clarke started strumming the opening chords of one of Eden’s early songs on her guitar, a high-energy track from their first album. It was a deep cut, something the fans in the know would recognize immediately. The crowd roared in response, their excitement spiking as Bellamy and Finn exchanged surprised glances but quickly fell into place, joining Clarke’s impromptu decision. 

They hadn’t played this song in a long time, but Clarke had felt the urge to end the night on a pumped-up, adrenaline-fueled note. The fans were losing it, and Clarke fed off that energy, her fingers flying across the guitar strings as she belted out the lyrics with passion. 

By the time the final note rang out, the crowd was screaming for more, but Clarke knew this was the perfect end. She grinned at the sea of people, stepping up to the mic one last time. 

“Thank you, Polis!” she called out, her voice rough but full of satisfaction. “Good night!” 

With that, Clarke slung her guitar over her shoulder, giving a final wave as she strode offstage, her heart still pounding. Bellamy and Finn followed behind her, still buzzing from the unexpected third encore. 

As soon as Clarke was out of view of the crowd, she exhaled deeply. Her mind was racing, not just from the show but from the thought of what was coming next. There was a meet and greet scheduled after the show, and she hoped Lexa would be there. Clarke’s pulse quickened at the thought. 

But before she could see Lexa, she needed to cool down. Sweat clung to her skin, her shirt damp from the heat of the stage lights and the intensity of the performance. She wasn’t about to face Lexa like this—not when she’d been thinking about her all night. 

Without a word to anyone, Clarke headed straight to her dressing room. The sound of the crowd still echoed faintly as she shut the door behind her and quickly stripped off her stage clothes. She turned on the shower, letting the cool water wash away the sweat and adrenaline. As she stood under the stream, her thoughts kept circling back to Lexa. 

She had no idea what she’d say when she saw her, but one thing was for sure—Clarke wanted to be at her best when she did. She wasn’t going to let Lexa see her looking or feeling anything less than confident.  

Clarke stepped into the meet and greet room, her pulse still racing from the high of the concert. This event was special, reserved for VIPs who had paid for the chance to hang out with the band after the show. The room was filled with excitement, fans eagerly awaiting their moment with the band. 

Bellamy and Finn were already inside, their voices carrying across the room as they chatted with the fans. Clarke could hear them cracking jokes, drawing laughter from the crowd. She took a deep breath, gave a casual wave as eyes turned toward her, and started making her way through the room, shaking hands and exchanging a few words with the eager fans. But her mind was elsewhere, searching for one person. 

At first, she didn’t see Lexa, and it made her stomach twist with nerves she wasn’t used to feeling. Clarke kept moving through the crowd, smiling for selfies and signing autographs, but her attention remained divided. Then, finally, she spotted Lexa’s companion from earlier—the tall brunette who had been sitting next to her at the concert. Her heart skipped a beat, and as she looked past the companion, she saw Lexa. 

Lexa stood off to the side with Monty, Harper, and Jasper, all three students clearly over the moon about their VIP access. Clarke’s pulse quickened. She couldn’t help but admire how Lexa carried herself with that same calm, composed air, even in the middle of the post-show chaos. 

As Clarke approached, Jasper’s face lit up. He immediately launched into excited chatter, barely able to contain himself. “Clarke! This has been unreal! Thank you so much for the VIP tickets and the backstage passes—we didn’t expect this at all! The show was amazing!” 

Clarke grinned, shaking his hand warmly. “I’m glad you guys had a good time, Jasper. You deserved it.” 

Monty and Harper joined in, eagerly thanking her for the concert and the tickets. Clarke responded with her usual charm, but she couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Lexa, who hadn’t yet acknowledged her directly. Lexa stood quietly, smiling as her students spoke with Clarke, but there was a quiet confidence about her that made Clarke’s breath catch every time she glanced her way. 

While Clarke continued chatting with Monty and Harper, her mind was on Lexa, wondering how she could break away and finally speak with the professor. That magnetic pull was still there, stronger than ever, and Clarke knew she wouldn’t be able to leave tonight without at least one conversation with Lexa. 

Clarke signed the last autograph for Monty, then flashed a grin for one final picture with Harper and Jasper before politely excusing herself. She made her way through the crowd, her focus entirely on Lexa. That pull, the one she had felt all night, was still there, and Clarke wasn’t about to let it go unexplored. 

As Clarke reached Lexa, she greeted her with a big, charming smile and extended her hand. “Professor Woods, glad you could make it.” 

Lexa returned the smile, her handshake confident yet soft. “Thank you, Clarke. The concert was amazing.” 

Clarke's attention shifted briefly to the woman beside Lexa. Noticing the glance, Lexa introduced her companion. “This is Anya Forest, a history professor at Polis.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Clarke said, shaking Anya’s hand. “Glad you could both be here.” 

Anya gave a polite nod, her smile reserved. “It was a great show. You really know how to command a stage.” 

Despite the pleasant interaction, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty. The dynamic between Lexa and Anya wasn’t quite clear. Something about the way they stood near each other felt comfortable, but it didn’t radiate the usual romantic vibe Clarke was used to picking up on. Were they just colleagues? Friends? Or was there something more? 

Clarke smiled politely, but her mind kept spinning. It doesn’t feel romantic... but I’m not sure. The ambiguity gnawed at her, sparking her curiosity even more. 

“So, have you two been to a lot of concerts together?” Clarke asked, keeping her tone casual, fishing for clues. 

Lexa gave a small, thoughtful smile. “Not many, but we try to make time when we can.” 

Clarke nodded, still unable to fully read the situation. Anya seemed perfectly content in the background, offering polite comments, but Clarke couldn’t get a read on whether they were anything more than acquaintances. 

For now, Clarke kept the conversation light, but the uncertainty lingered. She knew she’d need more time to figure out exactly what was going on between Lexa and Anya, and why she was so drawn to Lexa in the first place. 

Clarke, Lexa, and Anya stood together, chatting casually about the concert. Clarke, trying to ease into the conversation, asked, “So, did you both enjoy the setlist tonight? We threw in a couple of older tracks.” 

Lexa smiled, her eyes soft but attentive. “It was great. I recognized some of your earlier songs. It brought back memories.” 

Anya nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the energy was unreal. It’s clear why you guys have such a loyal following.” 

Clarke grinned. “Glad you liked it. We always try to mix things up for the fans.” 

As they continued chatting, Clarke couldn’t help but feel that the conversation was light, yet there was an underlying curiosity she couldn’t ignore. She kept stealing glances at Lexa, still trying to figure out what was going on between her and Anya. Just as she was about to ask another question, Anya glanced down at her watch. 

“I’ve got an 8 a.m. class tomorrow,” Anya said, sounding almost apologetic. “I need to head out and get some rest.” 

Lexa gave her a small, understanding smile. “Of course. Thanks for coming tonight.” 

Anya shifted her gaze between Clarke and Lexa, then asked, “Lexa, do you need me to walk you out? I don’t mind waiting.” 

Before Lexa could answer, Clarke jumped in with a reassuring smile. “I can make sure Lexa gets to her car safe. No worries.” 

Anya gave a brief nod, clearly satisfied with Clarke’s offer. “Alright, then. I’ll see you around, Lexa,” she said with a wave. “Nice meeting you, Clarke.” 

“Nice meeting you too,” Clarke replied, watching as Anya made her way toward the exit. 

As soon as Anya was gone, Clarke turned to Lexa, the question she had been holding back finally at the forefront of her mind. “So, Anya seems nice. Are you two...?” Clarke trailed off, hoping for some clarification. 

Lexa smiled softly, clearly picking up on Clarke’s curiosity. “We’re just old friends. We were in undergrad together, but we didn’t see each other for a while until I took the job at Polis. We reconnected when I moved back here.” 

Clarke exhaled, a small wave of relief washing over her as she nodded. “Got it. I wasn’t sure, you know... the way you two were talking, I wasn’t sure what your relationship was.” 

Lexa chuckled softly. “I get it. But no, it’s just friendship. We’ve known each other a long time, but that’s all.” 

Clarke smiled, feeling the tension ease between them. She’d been wondering about Anya all night, and now that she knew the truth, she felt more at ease—and even more intrigued by Lexa. The night suddenly felt full of possibilities. 

Clarke and Lexa continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily now that the tension from earlier had lifted. They talked about the show, their mutual love for music, and a bit about Lexa’s work. Clarke found herself completely drawn in by Lexa’s calm and thoughtful demeanor. Lexa had a way of making even casual topics feel interesting, and Clarke could feel that magnetic pull growing stronger. 

But as the night started to wind down, Clarke knew she had to wrap up her obligations with the fans. She glanced around the room, noticing a few lingering VIPs still hoping for photos and autographs. 

Clarke smiled apologetically at Lexa. “Hey, don’t go anywhere. I need to make a few more rounds with the fans before we call it a night. I’ll be right back, though.” 

Lexa nodded, her smile soft but understanding. “Take your time.” 

Clarke gave a small, playful wink before turning away and heading back into the crowd. As she moved through the room, she posed for last-minute pictures, signed a few more posters, and exchanged some final words with excited fans. She moved quickly but never lost her energy, flashing easy smiles for the cameras. 

Yet, the entire time, her mind was still on Lexa. Clarke couldn’t help but glance back toward her whenever she had a chance. Lexa remained near the side of the room, her posture relaxed, watching Clarke with a calm presence that stood out amid the chaotic energy of the meet-and-greet. 

A few times, Clarke caught Lexa’s eye and smiled, and each time, Lexa returned the smile—a small but genuine curve of her lips that sent a ripple of warmth through Clarke. 

Clarke moved through her remaining fan interactions with ease, but every time her gaze met Lexa’s, that electric connection seemed to flicker stronger, as if drawing them back toward each other. 

Clarke finally made her way back to Lexa, weaving through the last of the fans still lingering in the room. As she approached, Lexa gave her a soft, almost apologetic smile. 

“I really need to be going,” Lexa said gently. “I’ve got a class to teach tomorrow morning, and it’s getting late.” 

Clarke nodded, understanding but not wanting the night to end just yet. “Okay, let's head out,” she offered, motioning toward the exit. “I said I would make sure you got to your car safe and sound.” 

As they made their way through the arena and toward the VIP parking area, Clarke couldn’t help but steal glances at Lexa, taking in the calm confidence that seemed to surround her. Behind them, Raven and Octavia trailed at a comfortable distance, casually making sure everything was okay, but giving Clarke her space. 

When they reached the VIP lot, Clarke slowed her pace, stopping just a few feet from Lexa’s car. They stood there for a moment, the cool night air surrounding them, their conversation easy but laced with an undercurrent of something more. 

“Well, thanks for coming tonight,” Clarke said, feeling a bit of nervousness creeping in, something she wasn’t used to. “It was good to have you here.” 

Lexa nodded, offering a small smile. “I’m glad I came. It was a great show, Clarke.” 

There was a brief pause, a moment where Clarke considered her next move. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, holding it up casually. “Hey, before you go, mind if I get your number? You know... just in case the band ever wants to come back to campus for something.” 

Lexa hesitated, her expression thoughtful as she considered Clarke’s request. Clarke’s heart raced slightly, wondering if she had overstepped, but before she could say anything else, Lexa nodded. 

“Sure,” Lexa said, taking Clarke’s phone and entering her number. 

Clarke felt a small sense of victory wash over her as she took the phone back. “I’ll text you mine, so you have it,” she added quickly, typing out a quick message and sending it over. 

Lexa’s phone buzzed softly in her hand, and she glanced down, now having Clarke’s number as well. “Got it,” Lexa said, tucking her phone away. 

They stood there for a moment longer, the night settling around them, and Clarke wasn’t sure what else to say. There was a charge in the air, one that Clarke wanted to explore further, but she knew she had to take it slow. 

“I’ll see you around, then?” Clarke said, her voice hopeful but not pushing. 

Lexa gave her a small smile, her eyes soft. “Yeah, maybe you will.” 

With that, Lexa turned to her car, and Clarke watched her go, her heart still racing as the possibilities hung in the air between them. 

Clarke watched as Lexa drove off, her mind still buzzing from the interaction. She stood there for a moment longer, processing everything that had just happened, before turning back toward the arena. As she walked, she caught sight of Raven and Octavia leaning against the side of the building, watching her with curiosity. Their expressions were equal parts amusement and intrigue. 

Raven was the first to speak as Clarke approached. “So... how’d it go?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly eager for details. 

Clarke let out a small sigh, slipping her hands into her pockets. “I got her number,” she said, though her tone was more subdued than Raven and Octavia probably expected. “But only because I mentioned the band might want to do something at Polis again.” 

Raven snorted, shaking her head. “That’s one way to do it.” 

Octavia, however, picked up on Clarke’s mood. Her expression softened as she glanced at Clarke. “You okay?” 

Clarke stood still for a moment, her thoughts swirling. She had Lexa’s number now, but it didn’t feel like the victory it should have. She had hoped for more, or at least a clearer sense of what was going on between them. But all she felt now was uncertainty. 

“I’ll have to be,” Clarke replied, her voice resigned but firm. 

Raven and Octavia exchanged glances, but neither pushed her any further. They could see that Clarke was dealing with something new, something she wasn’t used to, and while they were curious, they respected her space. 

“Let’s head inside,” Clarke finally said, motioning toward the arena. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” 

Raven and Octavia nodded, following Clarke back into the building, both of them sensing that whatever was happening with Clarke was far from over. 

[deadheaddaisy]

Kiss prompts!

"i really, really want to kiss you right now"

+ “shut up” (affectionate)

+ almost kisses that are interrupted by a third party

Dual role ask answer!

Janelle Kelly and Michael Rostov appear together for approximately one (1) minute in Vox Sola, but have stolen my heart (and somehow I managed to inveigle @talshiargirlfriend to write and post the very first stories about them - lucky me!)

In honour of Enterprise Ship Week 2005 and in answer to @talshiargirlfriend's kiss ask, have some rarepair love!

Rostov awoke to the sound of beeping and a strong antiseptic smell; strange rustling noises, too. His chest hurt when he breathed, his head pounded, and - he twitched, and let out a tiny groan - his shoulder throbbed. Actually, he ached all over, but his chest, shoulder, and head seemed to want to be noticed more than any other pain he might be experiencing. 

He forced his eyes to open further, and watched hers widen. "Hey," he managed, as she leapt to her feet - albeit with a wince - and leaned over him, still holding fast to his hand. "No crying." 

She gave a small, damp laugh, and he was pleased to see a little smile make its way onto her face. "You're not the boss of me, Mike Rostov," she said tremulously, but let go with one hand to swipe at her eyes with her forearm before returning it to grip his hand tightly once more. 

He was too exhausted to do much more than smile back, but he squeezed her fingers and gave her an approximation of a wink, trying to better focus his eyes on her. Her hair was awry, pulled out of its neat bun, and there was soot on her face. She looked a mess, and at the same time, like the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Then his brain picked up that she was clad in her black undershirt, and there was a bandage around one wrist; not the one she'd used to wipe her eyes. 

"You were hurt?" he asked worriedly. Janelle shrugged, but nodded. "What happened? I remember the explosion, but not much after that."

"You were heading for the console, but the overload made it through the relays faster than you could run, and it exploded just before you reached it - luckily, or you'd have been caught directly in the blast. It threw you back hard enough to hit the side of the warp core platform, and that's probably how you broke a rib and dislocated your arm, and hit your head hard enough for a concussion. And then you fell on me and I broke your fall."

"I fell on you?" She nodded again, looking sheepish. "But I'm twice your size. I must have hurt you!" Looking alarmed and casting a glance in the direction of the door, Janelle patted his hand. 

"Hush, Mike, or the doctor will be annoyed that you're agitating yourself." With an effort, he tried to calm himself, raising an eyebrow as an indicator for her to continue. "I came out of it with a sprained wrist and knee, and a few bruises, but you were mostly limp by then. And you didn't fall on me with your full body weight, so I was able to wriggle out from under you and drag you away."

His brain fog was clearing faster, but Rostov was still a little confused by what she was saying. "Janelle, I weigh ninety kilograms and you can't weigh more than sixty-five, soaking wet. And you had an injured knee. How were you able to drag me?"

She grinned, and there was a hint of his happy-go-lucky Janelle. "I'm pretty strong, Mike, and I know how to lift heavy things," she said. "I'm not an engineer for nothing. And I was already full of adrenaline, running after you, so I was pumped up and ready. I probably couldn't do it as easily now as I did earlier, but I could move ninety kilograms if I had to. Besides, I only dragged you to the door, not all the way to Sickbay."

"I'm still impressed. And thank you for getting me out of there." 

"I couldn't just leave you there. And I know you wouldn't have left me if the tables had been turned." Her eyes crinkled at the corners. "Though I guess it would have been a lot easier for you to carry me out of there. But you were in front, so…"

He rolled his eyes. "Wait, don't tell me - I was pulling the jackass move?"

She chuckled. "I wasn't going to say so, but yeah, I guess you were."

"And there you were, hot on my heels, close enough for me to fall right on top of you."

To his amusement, she blushed. "Shut up, you."

She looked so lovely, he thought, even so dishevelled, her uniform rolled down to her waist and undershirt pulled up along one forearm to allow for the bandage on her slender wrist. 

"Janelle," he said softly, his gaze fixed on her. 

"Yes, Mike?" 

"I really, really want to kiss you right now."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and dear lord, now she looked even more lovely, a little flustered, but determined. "Will it help you feel better?" Concern radiated from her voice, but her eyes were drawn to his mouth.

He widened his eyes just a fraction, knowing it made him look disarmingly vulnerable, and tried to look as pathetic as possible. Well, he was in pain, after all. 

"It can't hurt to try," he said hopefully, and watched her lean forward, her beautiful face moving closer. Her eyes started sliding shut, and Rostov closed his in anticipation…

"Well, crewmen, how are things going here?" came the cheerful voice of Doctor Phlox, and Janelle jerked backward, Rostov taking in a huge gulp of air in shock and immediately yelping as his abused rib protested. 

"Could be better, Doctor," he managed, unable to hide the wince and deciding to lean into it as he saw the doctor's shrewd gaze move between him and his now fiercely-blushing colleague. "When can I get out of here?"

Phlox sighed and shook his head. "Now you sound like Lieutenant Reed, crewman," he said, "so I will tell you what I would have told him in your shoes. You have a cracked rib, a dislocated shoulder, and a mild concussion. I'll be keeping you overnight for observation, and tomorrow we'll see what sort of state you are in and whether you're ready to be released. But don't count on going back to work for at least a week." 

His gaze turned to Janelle. "And as for you, crewman, you might not have a concussion, but you have a badly-sprained wrist on your dominant arm and a torn anterior cruciate ligament on the opposite knee. Neither are life-threatening, but I would like you to stay overnight so I can keep you off that knee for as long as possible - especially since you were still using it for leverage when you dragged a weight somewhat excessive for your musculature, hmm? And you will also not be returning to work for a few days."

Janelle looked at Rostov almost guiltily and then nodded at Phlox, saying "Yes, Doctor," without demur. Rostov followed suit, albeit without the slightly guilty face, and rolled his eye at Janelle in a bid to indicate that they would be talking later about how she'd downplayed her injuries. She might be ranked higher than him, but he still didn't want her hurting herself for his sake. 

Although, well ... this was Janelle. Not like he could actually take her to task, not if he valued his skin; she was too feisty for that, and he didn't want a strip torn off his hide for presuming, even if she was acting guilty right at this moment. That was probably just because she felt sorry for him, and judging by the new spark he saw in her eyes, the guilt was rapidly dissipating.

Well, if they were going to be in Sickbay overnight at the same time, that wasn't too bad. And booked off work for a few days? Perhaps they could recuperate together, Rostov mused. As the doctor took himself off, drawing the curtain around their beds, he raised his hand carefully to avoid hurting his rib again, bringing Janelle's to his lips. 

"Are you going to give me a lecture?" she asked diffidently. Mike hesitated. 

"Not if you're willing to give that kiss another try," he hedged, and watched mischief bloom in her eyes. 

She leaned over him again, and he watched in fascination as those beautiful eyes stared into his before sliding closed as her lips met his mouth. They were incredibly soft, incredibly gentle, and he felt his own lips opening beneath hers as he inhaled the taste and scent of her.

All too soon, she drew back, and he let out a little sigh of frustration; he wanted nothing more than to keep tasting that wonderful essence that was Janelle. Opening his eyes, he watched her compress her lips between her teeth as though she was tasting him, and a flush of pride washed through him.

Now she was watching him, looking a little shy and apprehensive, as though she was worried he might not have found it as incredible as she had. On the contrary; he wanted more.

So he gave her his biggest, saddest, softest eyes, and whispered, “Can we do that again? I think we may need to practise some more.”

The brilliant smile that blossomed on her face was ample reward; made even better by hearing her murmur, "Hopefully there won't be any further interruptions.”

And to Rostov’s satisfaction, there weren't.

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

"You're more worried about that stupid SUV's paint job than you are about me," Michelle grumbled as her knuckles turned white from gripping the marksman rifle.

Lee jerked every time a bullet hit his Mercedes G-Class, which was coming to be very frequently now. He spat on the slope of dirt he was reclining against, and nudged Michelle.

"You're holding it too tight, relax your grip."

"I'm holding it too tight because I'm terrified, Lee. You want to try holding it?"

Lee shook his head. His spit was forming rivulets in the soil. He glanced at the Mercedes, swore under his breath, and patted Michelle's shoulder. "Don't think they have a bead on our position now. Weirdly obsessed with my fucking car."

Michelle took a deep breath. "I'm going to go for it," she said, and pushed herself up the ridge of the slope, her rifle's barrel end going first and her eye firmly behind the scope.

As moments passed, Lee felt his heart pumping, about to explode. "Well? Take the fucking shot."

"Not yet," Michelle mumbled. "The moment I fire, they'll know where we are. We have to make it count."

"Watch for the flashes, there must be flashes right before they fire."

Michelle slowly relaxed her grip and slid herself down the slope again, taking care to make sure the barrel wasn't poking above the ridge. She took another deep breath, only to have it interrupted by a burst of fire against one of the SUV's open doors.

Lee's hands were caked in dirt, his under-nails filled with grime. "Well? What happened?"

"Lee," Michelle said slowly, "Listen. I love you. I need you to shut the fuck up for a while, though, if you want us to make it out of this alive. Do you trust me, babe?"

"But-"

"Tut."

"I'm just trying to-"

"Zip it."

Lee glared at her, still involuntarily jerking his shoulders as the bullets hit the SUV. He turned towards the car and grumbled. "What's their fucking problem with my car?"

"Lee," Michelle hissed, and when she caught his attention, made a zipping motion across her lips.

Laying his forehead a pillow of his forearms, Lee looked at the dark of soil underneath, hoping an ant would pop out of the dirt. It would make for some company that didn't talk back to him. An ant would have no problems whatsoever with what was going on. Every time he breathed, the tiniest specks of dirt would roll downwards, towards his chest. His anxious heart would keep him from relaxing, so he lowered his chin further and further until he was about to taste the dirt, when a blast briefly deafened him in his right ear.

When the tinnitus faded, he saw Michelle still staring over the ridge with her rifle. "Clear," she said quietly, but loud enough that Lee could hear.

"Did you get him? Headshot or what?" Lee asked.

Michelle seemed to exhale all the breath she had in her, and using her rifle's butt for support, she stood up on the ridge, triumphant.

Lee noticed that there were no more shots against the metal of his SUV. Nevertheless, he waited several seconds more.

"It's over, huh?" he said, and nervously stood up even as his legs shook violently.

Michelle helped him up, re-armed herself with her rifle, and then sniffed. "Something is-" was all she could manage before the SUV exploded in a cloud of fire and smoke, shooting debris several metres away. The black cloud disappeared into the air, and another explosion sent the tires flying, making the car sag on one side. Its metal deformed, and the shattered glass reflected a bright flame.

[its-in-the-woods]

Chapter four, Life's Too Short

Chapter one , two, three <- if you missed it.

Cooper howard/The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean

Post end of season 1

No beta.. I tried to edit 🫠

Ninety five percent written just tweaking

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

There will be canonically typical violence and eventually smut

There's lots of bl00d and g0re in this one

+18 only - MDN

Slow burn sorta kinda

Please be nice this my first fic in almost a decade 🫣

Will eventually post on AO3 once I can get access... or where suggested 🤷🏻‍♂️ Like please tell me I am old and don't know things anymore.

Lucy was running, her oversized boots felt like weights on her feet. The thing was huge and unnervingly fast. Cooper yelled and ran, which made everything worse. Cooper had never run, not with her anyway. A stream of curses had come out of his mouth as the great horned beast tore after them. They had been walking through a particularly rough patch of rocky desert when Dogmeat started to bark. How they hadn’t noticed until it was almost on top of them was shocking.

They had both felt it before seeing it, the heavy footsteps of the great beast shaking the pebbles around them. Her heart had started to pound in her ears. Adrenaline spiked as she tried to keep up with Coop's long legs. Dogmeat was well ahead of them running towards what looked like a small cave. 

“Get in the cave!” Cooper shouted as he slid to the side of the rocky outcrop, Turning around he leveled his shotgun at the beast firing two rounds into it. 

Lucy didn’t have to look back to know they had connected, the creature's howls of rage rang over the wasteland. It would surely draw a lot of unwanted attention. She slid as she came to the entrance of the small cave grabbing her weapon and she fired off a couple of rounds. The bullets bounced off its bony skin. 

“Aim for its underbelly,” Coop roared, backing up so that he was closer to her reloading faster than she could blink.

She did as she was told and hit just under its neck a stream of blood burst out as it continued to lumber towards them. Coop hit it in the groin and the thing screeched hesitating to step forward. Lucy took the chance and lobbed a grenade at it.

“Grenade” She screamed, grabbing the Ghoul by the back of his duster and dragging him down. 

There was a loud bang as the grenade hit the ground and exploded raining sand, rocks, and debris over them. The creature's howls cut off as it was blown back. The two companions scrambled back upright, Lucy aiming where it should have been standing.

The creature had been split up from its midsection legs splayed out in unnatural angles as whatever passed for guts covered the sandy floor. Lucy had somehow hit the creature right between its legs and split it in two. 

“Heck yah,” Lucy cried, pumping her fist in the air with a shout. She turned to see Coop slide down the wall, a bloody streak left behind. “Oh no,” 

A large chunk of bone stuck into Cooper’s right side. It had passed right through the front and was poking out the back. As thick as her fist and about as long as Lucy’s arm.

“Fuck.” Coop coughed, “That hurts.” 

Lucy felt her stomach drop, as the man looked back at her. His eyes unfocused and head bobbing back and forth.

“We got move, Lucy,” the Ghoul huffed, he tried to pick himself up but his right arm was hanging there like a limp noodle.

She immediately went around and helped the man up, and could feel his heart jamming away under her. This was not good. 

“There-” Cooper swallowed “There will be more.”

He was leaning heavily on her. The thought of more of those monsters coming after filled her with fear. She needed to try and move them as quickly as possible. 

“We can hide in the caves.” Lucy gasped out trying to steady herself under his weight.

“No. Leave me here.” He grunted, eyes rolling slightly as the pain pulsed. Blood had already started to stain his jacket. 

“I am not leaving you.” Lucy gritted out and started to haul him away. He was barely moving, but he was moving. 

“Fresh meat.” The man sputtered. 

Lucy could hear off in the distance the howls of another one of those creatures, followed shortly by a second and third. Her heart was hammering so hard in her ears that she could barely think. Looking around frantically she saw, in the distance, what looked like a concrete building. She hitched up the Ghoul slapping his face to get him moving. They were never gonna make it.

“Bluecap,” The Ghoul growled at her, stumbling and coughing. 

She opened the saddle bag ruffling through the extensive amount of meds and finding a blue capped auto dispensing needle. Pulling off the end she stabbed it directly into his thickly scared neck draining it swiftly. She felt his left hand clench as the drugs worked into his system. They began to move at a bit faster pace. The screeching seemingly moved at impossible speeds. The creatures had to be right behind them.  

Light caught her attention, between her heart and breath she hadn't heard them. Off to her left she saw the faint sight of a camp. 

“Fresh meat” She whispered, lowering Coop beneath an old hollow cactus. Glancing around she couldn’t see any of the creatures, yet the noise of them was close. She looked at dog meat. “Watch him.”

She grabbed the shotgun and machete kicking her heavy boots off as she took off towards the camp as quiet as a mouse.

They had camped up on a small ridge, there was little cover but Lucy had always been good at hiding. Moving quietly came second nature. Her toes burnt in the still-hot sand, but she barely noticed, one singular mission numbing any other feeling. One person stood facing towards the thundering sound of a storm moving in. Another crouched smothering out the flames of an old fire. Two others tended to the large beast attached to a wooden cart. A bag with a red cross on the front sat on the end of the cart.

Lucy crept slowly up behind the cactus, her eyes darting everywhere. 

A scream exploded from the person standing watch as Dogmeat ripped into his calf tearing away at the flesh. Just as soon as she had bitten the dog was gone. All the travelers turned to stare at the man as he screamed clutching his calf. 

Lucy took the opening, firing a shot at the one closest to her blowing open his hip. She pumped, reloaded, rolled, lined up, and hit the man closest to the wagon. Dogmeat flew in and latched herself onto the last traveler's face wrenching their neck around. It was chaos as Lucy darted in. She hit the man closest to her, chopping off his arm as he screamed.

A blast hit her back. She let out a yelp and slid behind the cart crawling underneath she swung her machete at the back of the other traveler’s knees. Blood spurted as she crawled back out. The man with the hip wound shot at her hitting her thighs. She turned and fired into his gut and his scream echoed into the night as he dropped the gun. Turning she cut the tack on the beast and slapped its backside it let out a long bellow as it took off into the night.

The screams would haunt her dreams but it didn't matter. Lucy grabbed the red cross bag, the clicking of glass reassuring her it would hopefully have what she needed. Needing to move quickly she ignored the men begging her to end their lives as she ran back to Cooper.

Cooper had slumped over his chest barely moving. She grabbed another blue vial and shot it into him. A croak of a gasp came out, his eyes opening barely pupils blown wide. She grabbed his good arm and helped him to his feet. He groaned as she bumped the wound. Grabbing their bags she handed the Dogmeat the cloth bag.

“Carry.” She stated and was surprised to see the dog grab it without hesitation. Looping ahead of them in easy bounds. Lucy gritted her teeth and made her body move. The bird shot in her back screaming as she held up her companion. Her suit was soaking in blood, the wound on her thigh making her vision go blurry. To add to the chaos a storm was moving and light was disappearing fast.

“Not letting your dumb self die because of me” 

The walk felt like it took hours, her whole body trembling with effort to keep the heavy man upright. Once at the door, she grabbed the handle trying to turn it. It was locked. A wretched sob cried out of her throat. Lucy's head pressed against the door. Prickle of the storm tingled over her.

“Of course. Of course, it's locked.” 

She dropped Cooper, his body limp against the sand. The idea of just laying down beside him darkened her thoughts. It be so easy to just lie down. Forget everything and just fade into the blackness around her. A crackle of thunder spurred her forward.

Screams in the not too far distance echoed across the valley. The beast had found ‘fresh meat’, her eyes barely making out the hulking forms as it tore into the travelers. She dug around into her bag and pulled out a nail file and bobby pin. The first couple of tries had her trembling hands breaking the nail file. Wiping snot and other fluids from her face she worked to calm herself. Even as the screams behind her turned to slurping-sucking noises.

A click. And the door opened. Lucy sobbed as Dogmeat bounced in looking back waiting for her. She chucked the bags into the dark. Crawling over she grabbed Cooper under his arms and dragged him inside. Closing and locking the door behind her.

It was completely black inside the building. Lucy fumbled for a flare, striking it to look at where they were. It looked like an old office rows of defunct dusty computers went on as far as she could see. While filing cabinets covered the wall. Several skeletons dotted the place, otherwise it was empty. Feeling somewhat safe she leaned the Ghoul against the wall. First, she needed to get the piece of shrapnel out of him. She tried to get his jacket off but it was stuck just as much as the bone lodged into him. Taking a few deep breaths she pushed him so his back was more or less turned to her.

“This gonna hurt,” she whispered into the dark. Grabbing a hold of the end of the bone she pulled back. A wet sucking sound made her stomach turn. It was hard to get a grip on the thing. Placing a foot on the Ghoul's back she grabbed it with both hands and pulled. A wet pop rang out and she tumbled onto her backside with the offending piece in her hands. She took a brief moment to celebrate which was immediately crushed by the amount of blood oozing from the hole. The flare flickered and she lit another, grabbing the meds out of the bag. Removing his duster vest and shirt so she could get a look at the large hole that passed right through him. She grabbed stim-packs, the blue-capped meds, and another vial she recognized as med-x. Flicking the caps off she jabbed all three near the hole. She was just grateful his thick skin didn't break the needles.

She counted out loud, “One, two, three, four,-” 

Ten seconds later, tears were flowing again. She took off her poncho balling it up to press against the wound, trying to stem the flow of ooze leaking out. 

“You're not dying on me.” She yelled at him grabbing a stimpack and two more vials she jabbed them in, counting down. But nothing, the hole was just as big and bleeding.

She rests his head against her chest quiet sobs leaving from her chapped lips. Her hands rubbed over his chest desperately hoping for a heartbeat. Ghouls were supposed to be hard to kill. Unless you took their head off they should heal. But here he was. Her Ghoul, still dripping blood. She rests her head against the concrete wall. Defeat made her eyelids heavy, everything smelt like the sour smell of blood. The pulsing pain of her wounds made it hard to even move. 

What was she going to do now? She was alone. No one was coming to save her. She looked over at her revolver, one shot at the temples and this nightmare would be gone. Lucy was so tired. So tired and so alone. Dogmeat came over and lay beside her whining and licking at her hand.

Chapter five

I am not sorry for the cliffhanger.. I promise it be worth it!

Yes I made up some meds, I know they are not canon behave thyself

promise the next chapter will be out tomorrow!

[alera21]

Recovered Record: Excerpt from Musings on Vampire as Pilots

Vampires used to be among the most feared creatures on old Terra. They were feared for their combination of power and intellect. However, they were vastly overepresented by the most powerful of their kind. Vampires are powerful, but they have some weaknesses that have become more and more clear since humans developed their technology. Weaknesses that are exemplified by subject 073. -------------------------------------------------

73 ran, leaping over enemy soldiers, past vehicles, around buildings. Eyes only for The Enemy. Painted blue, eyes green, 73 smelled its blood. The sweet, sweet blood. Every muscle tensed and exploded with every motion. A Singular Need. It could smell the blood. Nearly taste it.

The Enemy shot at it, but it seemed to move in slow motion.

The blood hunt was in its veins. Stolen blood rushed through its head, its dead heart, its ears, its teeth. Its teeth itched to tear out the heart of its enemy.

Then it caught the Enemy. Clawed hands held it down and tore into its arms. Teeth clamped to its neck and tore and ripped and ate and sucked. For thirty glorious seconds, it ate its fill of blood. Then its handler cut it off. "Good pet, 73. You've had some fun, but an armored column is coming up on your left. They'll be in range shortly. You need to not be there within another 30 seconds."

The blood stopped flowing. The beast inside it became smaller. Reality came back to it. The vision granted by external cameras faded back to just a view on a screen in front of it, and it became a small thing again, riding in the heart of an iron beast.

The Enemy was another mech, not at all rich in blood. The blood came from a feed run into its back and a second feed leading to a soft membrane tube that it bit into. Enough blood forcibly pumped into it sent it into the blood rage, made it a hunter.

But the damnable Handler took it away whenever she saw fit.

And the Enemy was torn apart, and it had taken too many hits that it hadn't remembered, hits that a vampire could regenerate, assuming they were appropriately scaled, but a mech simply accumulated damage. It would need repair.

73 leaned back, and looked into the sky. The bright, lit sky. It did not touch the light itself, it couldn't, but being able to see it again almost made having its hunts cut short worth it.

It turned and ran away, just as the enemy tanks came up the hill.

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

When they were both calm, the mech sometimes talked to it. "Good hunt."

It did not respond. The mech was a method to hunt the greatest prey, giants of steel. It tried to be a thing, a person, but 73 did not trust things of steel. It trusted things of flesh. Trusted them to be soft and tasty. It hated mechs. It accepted using one to turn other mechs into prey. A neonate like it could stand no hope against a mech without using one itself.

Blood gently flowed into the feeder tube from the mech's resevoirs. A 'gift' from its handler for a job well done. Less damage taken than usual and the enemy target was dead.

It craved the taste of blood fresh. The blood hunt convinced it that the massive jaw of the mech was its own, its claws and skin and cameras and giant size were its own. It could become lost in the hunt, but it could never truly enjoy it. Inevitably it was always reminded that it was truly just a gnat stuck in this metal cage as soon as it came down from the hunt, as soon as the blood was taken away by her.

It maneuvered its mech into its bay and set it to open the doors.

And it waited. Waited until its handler and her hauler bot to come up to the cockpit. Waited as the mech automatically retracted its link cables and the auxiliary blood tube. The ecstasy of blood and the hunt was lost completely as its handler's hauler pulled it from the cockpit.

"Excellent job 73. You deserve a treat, how does that sound?"

It frowned at her. She knew it hated this. She also knew how to play with it. She raised a syringe to its mouth, letting a few crimson drops fall from the end of it. It sniffed, and instinctively opened its mouth. She pushed the syringe into its mouth and pressed.

It was sweet. Not quite fresh, but better than the tanks of blood in the mech that were often several days stale.

"Good dog."

73's eyes drooped. There was a mild sedative in the syringe as well as the blood, and it was already quite full. Blood drunk, like humans would be after a large meal.

Sensation came back to its arms and legs as the mechanical prosthetics were attached by the handler. The hauler bot set it down onto its own feet. Well, the feet that the handler owned.

"Follow me, dog."

73 lazily followed the handler. Instincts told it that it could not simply take her. It wasn't hungry, she was in the open, she was useful. Its mind was muddied like this, its hate cooled and energy lacked.

A clang and a scream rang out through the hanger. An industrial accident. Blood gushing from a crushed leg.

73's vision went red, its pupils went wide as it locked onto its food. The fresh scent overwhelmed its other instincts. It was almost never allowed fresh wine of the vein. Muscles, mechanical and organic, tensed and released, launching the vampire, the hunter, the predator at its food.

A single thought to her implant from the handler sent a signal directly to 73's limbs. It landed in a heap, still a dozen paces away from its prey. It impotently wriggled across the floor, still making solid progress even with its dead limbs. Until the hauler bot picked it up again.

"Dog. What are you doing?"

It gnashed its teeth impotently, eyes still locked on the sweet red wine as the food's companions applied first aid and called for a medical team.

The handler slapped 73. "Look at me. I did not tell you to hunt."

The red haze faded. She stood in front of it. The hateful one that holds its leash. The loving one that feeds it.

She snapped at the hauler bot to make it drag 73 along to its quarters. She directed the bot to set it on its bed. She allowed its prosthetic limbs to come back to about 20% power. Enough to lift itself into a sitting position, but nowhere near enough to manage a leap like it had earlier. Barely enough to stand on its own.

She grabbed it by its hair and pointed its head to look right at her.

"Who feeds you?"

73's uncommonly used vocal cords were raspy as it responded, "you do."

She unfolded a small knife, one that 73 had seen many times and was always used for this. The one that left many marks on her wrist. "Why do you deserve to be fed?"

73 hated this game. It made it feel small, it knew that this made it dependant on her. "Because I hunt."

"No," she slapped it again, "because you hunt for me. Because you hunt what I say to, and not because you hunt whatever catches your nose. Why do you deserve to be fed?"

73 acquiesced. It hurt its pride to. It also knew it would not be fed if it did not. "Because I hunt for you. I hunt what you tell me to."

She ran the knife along her wrist. A line of red bubbled along the shallow cut. Red mist drifted into 73's gaze. It tensed what organic muscles it still had, but without limbs that would properly cooperate it would be useless. "Why don't you just heal your limbs? Why let me keep those metal ones on you?" She knew why.

"Because then I would not be allowed to use the hateful machine." And because it would be punished, have its regrown limbs removed and replaced with the prosthetics again. It was not an easy process. "That machine is important. Why do you hate it?" She tilted her hand down so that gravity pulled a drop of blood towards her fingertips.

"Because it means I cannot hunt with my own fangs and claws. Because the others have their own hateful machines, so I must have my own." Because it meant that a human was above it.

She lazily drifted her hand in front of 73's nose. It started twitching with the effort of holding itself back. She knew that it was on the edge.

"Do not hate your mech. It lets you stand on the level of giants. And you still have a predator's instincts. That makes you a hunter of iron giants. Do not hate your machine for that."

Her finger pressed to its lips. It didn't bite. It knew that if it bit it would be punished. It had happened before. Its world was full of red. Red in its eyes, red in its nose, red in its mouth. Red hate in its heart. Not hate for the machine, not truly. Hate for itself, that despite being so much stronger than it once was as a mere human, it was still beneath a human, and it was a mere spec to the iron titans that ruled the battlefield, unless it allowed itself to be entombed in one itself. It let that thought drift away as more red blood, fresh blood, filled its mouth, and it sucked. A gift from the woman that kept talking to it. But it was hard to focus. Ever so hard to focus as the red blood filled its stomach.

[guardian25]

Part 3 of stars

warning: reader has a panic attack(so am I)

A/N: ok so I’m at a family reunion right now and they are watching a movie so I wrote this to distract and I write way my then i thoughti would and it’s better than I thought it would be hope you enjoy

The heart an organ that humans, animals, and monsters alike alive. Pumping blood and oxygen through the body it goes faster when exercising and slower when sleeping that was all I ever known it to do. yet why? why is my heart rate increasing when she spoke why does her voice seem so loud why is my heart so loud. It feels like it’s about to explode and a desperate need to run came over every part of me screaming to move, to go back into the empty void of space yet I couldn’t ever part of me was yelling my heart, my lungs, it even felt as though my skin was begging me to move, to scream to cry but my muscles wouldn’t move not even a feather on my wing, my voice went missing, and no tears would come.

I stood frozen as she spoke I understood a word even if I tried i didn’t know what language she spoke and even if I did it sounded so muffled so far away i couldn’t hear it over my own heart beat. I felt my knees buckle and I didn’t have the strength to keep myself. I could hear worry in her voice now just bearly over my heart and breathing. I could feel the her hands touching me but it felt so faint i couldn’t tell if i was amazing things or not. I don’t remember how i ended up laying on the floor curled up in a ball with my wings covering my body in a desperate attempt to hide. As I lay there not sure what to do or what’s going on I hear shouting so faint I could bearly hear it and soon followed me footsteps and the warmth of a star?…no a body… a human body someone was holding me rocking me.

I could barely think let alone protest the comforting warmth of something so familiar yet so new like being next to a star that warmed me of before drifting away. But it didn’t fade it stayed wrapping me in its warmth. The loud and painful beating in my chest slowly stopped and I was left in a calming warmth of a human and the sound of there voices the feeling of their touch came back I still didn’t know what they were saying I could understand them and the language they spoke as others who heard the read hair woman’s cry spoke as I cling to her shaking from what my body just went through.

Yet as my body calmed and relaxed more and my wings became less and less stiff. I could hear words…words i knew not loud things were still to quiet to hear them but I heard a word I knew the last thing I remember…panic attack.

[aghost-writer]

Enough

Chapter 22

This is a Yandere MHA/BNHA x Female Reader Fic!

MDNI!!

The Nomu was relentless. Its body, massive and built for destruction, loomed over Y/N as it chased her through the abandoned area of the USJ. She could hear the thudding of its footsteps, each one louder and more earth-shattering than the last. Her heart raced in her chest, pumping adrenaline through her veins as she pushed herself to keep running. 

Her body was already aching, her muscles trembling from the strain, but she couldn’t afford to stop. Not with the Nomu so close behind her.

The fight had been brutal since the beginning. She had barely been able to land a single hit. Each of her blows had felt like punching concrete, doing nothing to slow the monster down. Every time she struck, the Nomu’s thick, unnatural skin absorbed her attacks like they were nothing, like she was no more than an annoyance to it.

She hadn’t used her kagune yet. The thought of giving in to that side of herself, the monstrous part of her, was something she refused to consider. Even now, as she bled from numerous cuts, slashes, and bruises, she fought to keep control, to fight with whatever strength she could muster.

Her side burned with pain where the Nomu’s claws had raked across her skin, the gashes deep and jagged. Blood flowed freely, staining her uniform and dripping onto the concrete as she sprinted. Each breath she took felt like it was being ripped from her lungs. The air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat. 

She glanced over her shoulder, her heart sinking when she saw the Nomu closing the distance between them. Its massive, clawed hands stretched out, reaching for her. It was too fast. She couldn’t outrun it forever.

Her mind raced as she pushed her body faster, but the Nomu was faster. It slammed its fist into the ground, creating a shockwave that threw her off balance. She staggered, her feet sliding across the wet concrete, but she managed to catch herself before she fell. 

But the Nomu was on her in an instant.

Its claws raked across her back, and she cried out as pain exploded in her spine. She barely had time to process the damage before the beast grabbed her by the shoulders and hurled her into the side of a building. The impact sent a shock through her body, and she gasped for air, tasting blood in her mouth. 

The Nomu loomed over her, its grotesque face twisted into a cruel grin. It raised one clawed foot and stomped down on her, but she managed to roll to the side just in time. She scrambled to her feet, her body screaming in protest, and stumbled away, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up. Her wounds were deep, her body was growing weaker by the second, but she had to keep fighting. She had to survive. 

The Nomu was relentless. It followed her without hesitation, its massive fists pounding the ground as it moved. She could feel its hot breath on the back of her neck as it closed in on her. 

She couldn’t outrun it, but maybe—just maybe—she could outsmart it.

Y/N veered toward a pile of rubble, hoping the Nomu would follow her into the narrow space. She dove behind it, curling herself into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. She held her breath, praying that the Nomu wouldn’t see her. 

The Nomu’s claws scraped the rubble as it searched, its low growls vibrating through the air. Y/N pressed herself into the corner, her heart pounding in her ears. She could hear the Nomu sniffing the air, its claws scraping against the concrete as it moved past her hiding spot.

Her muscles trembled as she waited, every fiber of her being screaming for her to run, to escape. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

The Nomu’s heavy footfalls drew closer, and she knew she didn’t have much time. It was too close. It was too strong. She needed to act.

With a burst of adrenaline, she pushed herself up, grabbing a shard of metal from the rubble. She spun around, aiming for the Nomu’s head. The creature roared as the sharp metal hit its face, but it didn’t stop. It didn’t even flinch. It just swiped at her, knocking the shard from her hands and sending her flying backward.

She hit the ground hard, the impact jolting her spine. Her vision blurred as pain radiated through her body. Blood poured from the gash on her forehead, blurring her sight even further, but she pushed herself to stand.

The Nomu was already on top of her again. It grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the air, slamming her into the concrete with bone-shattering force. The impact left her breathless, and for a moment, she couldn’t move. 

The Nomu loomed over her, its claws raised for the final blow. She could see the darkness closing in around her, feel the blood draining from her body as she struggled to stay conscious. She had no strength left. She couldn’t fight anymore.

But then, just as the Nomu’s claws descended toward her, something inside her snapped.

With a desperate scream, Y/N surged upward, throwing her shoulder into the Nomu’s massive hand and using her remaining strength to push it away. The Nomu staggered back, surprised by her sudden movement. 

She didn’t have time to think. She didn’t have time to hesitate. She had to finish this.

She darted to the side, using the last bit of her strength to avoid the Nomu’s claws as they swung at her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she ran, each step a struggle, each breath a battle. Her body was covered in blood, her wounds deep and painful, but she refused to give in.

The Nomu was still following her. It wasn’t going to stop. It was never going to stop.

But Y/N wasn’t going to die here. Not today.

She reached a broken wall, using it to gain some height. The Nomu’s massive form crashed against it, splintering the concrete as it tried to grab her. She leaped, using the wall for leverage, and landed behind the creature, her hands scraping against the ground as she pushed herself up.

The Nomu spun around, but before it could strike again, it hesitated. 

For a moment, everything went still.

Y/N’s body shook with exhaustion, her blood dripping freely onto the ground. Her mind was foggy, her thoughts scattered, but she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t.

And then, suddenly, the Nomu’s head snapped up, its eyes narrowing as it turned in the direction of the central plaza. It screeched, its claws scraping against the ground as it pivoted and took off toward the noise.

Y/N stood there, her legs barely holding her up as she watched it go. Her body was covered in wounds, her blood pooling around her on the ground. She had been fighting for so long, but now, she was barely conscious. Her mind was a haze of pain, the world spinning around her.

She didn’t even realize she had fallen to her knees until the world around her went dark. The last thing she heard was the Nomu’s screech, fading in the distance.

And then, everything went black.

The Central Plaza was eerily quiet, save for the sounds of the distant clash between heroes and villains and the broken, trembling body of Shota Aizawa. He lay on the ground, beaten, battered, and struggling to rise as the massive form of Nomu stood above him, its claws digging into his shoulders. Aizawa’s arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, his body broken and exhausted, but the fire in his eyes never wavered. His vision was blurry, and his breath was shallow, but he refused to stay down.

Nomu growled, its massive bulk pressing harder onto Shota’s body, pinning him down. Aizawa gasped in pain as Nomu shifted its weight, but he managed to grit his teeth and glare up at the monstrous villain. His body screamed for rest, but he refused to give up. Not when his students were still in danger.

He looked toward the group of students who were fighting in the plaza, most of them panicked and struggling to keep themselves together. Izuku Midoriya, Tsuyu Asui, and Minoru Mineta were desperately trying to protect their classmates, their determination unwavering, but they were fighting an enemy far stronger than them. They weren’t prepared for this. No one had expected this kind of attack.

“Damn it…” Shota muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. He needed to get back on his feet. He needed to help them. 

But just as he summoned the last of his strength, a dark, swirling portal appeared before him, and a figure emerged from it—Kurogiri. The villain’s presence was imposing, his smoky form curling around his body like a living shadow.

“Thirteen is defeated,” Kurogiri reported coldly, “but I was unable to stop one of the students from escaping. We need to retreat before more heroes arrive.”

Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, turned to Kurogiri, irritation clear on his face. He had been expecting this raid to be a success, and the failure to capture a student—especially one important to their plans—left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“The student escaped?” Tomura’s voice was laced with frustration. His fingers twitched, and his quirk flared for a moment before he clenched his hands into fists, trying to suppress the urge to disintegrate everything around him.

Kurogiri nodded, his form still swirling. “Yes. We are still waiting to retrieve the target, but we may not be able to stop them from reaching the other pro heroes.”

Tomura’s lips curled into a twisted smile, but it was one born of annoyance. “Damn it. I wasn’t planning on dealing with this today.”

But then, his expression darkened. He glanced over toward where Shota’s battered form lay beneath Nomu’s immense weight, and his eyes narrowed in thought. “The student… it’s not Y/N, is it?”

Kurogiri shook his head. “No. It’s not her. The missing student is not Y/N.”

Tomura stood still for a moment, anger simmering beneath the surface, before he spoke again, his voice thick with irritation. “Of course, it isn’t. Y/N is far too clever to fall for such a simple trick.”

His eyes lingered on the students struggling in the distance, particularly on Izuku, Tsuyu, and Minoru. They were nothing compared to him, but that didn’t mean they were entirely useless. They were still part of the equation, still pieces to be moved.

“Fine,” Tomura muttered, crossing his arms as he watched the students scramble. “We’ll retreat for now. But next time… Y/N will be ours. She is mine. I’ve been waiting far too long for this moment.”

Shota, though still pinned by Nomu, snarled at Tomura’s words, his gaze burning with a fury that was almost palpable. “You won’t lay a hand on her,” he growled, though his words were weak, his voice hoarse from the pain.

Tomura let out a small laugh. “Oh, but I already have.” His mind flickered briefly to the fading decay marks on Y/N’s skin. “And I’ll finish what I started.”

Aizawa’s anger surged at the mention of Y/N. He clenched his jaw, and his gaze flicked toward the group of students who had managed to regroup, preparing for another round of the battle that they were ill-equipped to fight. Despite the exhaustion in his limbs, despite the pain, he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Tomura continue his pursuit of Y/N, especially not with the information that was now in his possession.

He could barely move, his limbs barely responding, but he was Shota Aizawa. He would not stand by while his students—especially his Y/N—were in danger.

Before Tomura could say anything further, he turned his attention back to the students. “Let’s finish this, shall we?” he sneered. “Before we leave, let’s knock the Symbol of Peace’s pride down a notch, shall we?”

Aizawa’s blood ran cold as he realized exactly what Tomura was about to do.

Tomura reached out toward Tsuyu, his fingers flexing as he prepared to disintegrate her. He was close enough that his decaying touch would disintegrate her in an instant. He had no time to waste. And he wasn’t about to let a pro-hero or a student stand in his way.

“No!” Shota yelled, his voice breaking as he summoned the last of his strength and activated his quirk. His body shook with exertion, and his vision was beginning to fade, but he wasn’t going to let Tomura hurt them. Not if he could stop it.

The world around him seemed to slow as Shota’s quirk activated, and for a moment, everything became still. Tomura’s hand faltered, his fingers curling inward as his quirk was neutralized.

Tomura’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected Aizawa to be able to fight back at all, especially in his current state. But the pro hero had proven him wrong once again.

“Damn you,” Tomura hissed, glaring at Aizawa. “You’ll pay for that.”

Izuku, still recovering from the earlier clash, saw the opportunity. With a shout of determination, he launched himself forward, his fist aimed at Tomura’s face. He was fast, and his punch connected—only for Tomura to laugh. The villain didn’t even flinch. Instead, he simply raised a hand and pushed Izuku’s attack aside with a flick of his fingers.

The punch hadn’t worked. It had no effect.

Izuku’s eyes widened, realizing that he was no match for Tomura’s raw power. He was strong, yes, but not nearly strong enough to defeat a villain like this. Still, he wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not when his friends were in danger.

Tsuyu leaped into action as well, trying to wrap Tomura in her tongue to restrain him. But again, Tomura easily blocked her attempts, batting her away with a flick of his wrist. She hit the ground hard, her breath leaving her lungs in a rush.

Tomura smirked as he saw his opponents struggle. “Is this all you can do?” he taunted. “I thought the heroes of the future would be stronger than this.”

But before he could deliver another taunt or attack, the air seemed to shift. A sudden rush of energy filled the plaza, and the doors to the USJ slammed open. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the plaza, and the students froze in shock, their eyes wide as they looked toward the figure emerging from the doorway.

It was All Might.

“Have no fear,” All Might announced, his booming voice filling the air. “I am here!”

A cheer of relief spread through Class 1-A as the Symbol of Peace appeared on the scene. All Might was here to save them. Finally, there was hope.

Tomura’s eyes flicked toward All Might, and his expression turned to one of disdain. He had expected this. The pro-hero had arrived just in time to try to save his students. But it wasn’t going to be enough.

“You think you can stop me?” Tomura sneered, his fingers twitching again. “This is just the beginning.”

He looked at All Might with disdain, a sneer twisting his features. “We’ll finish this another time,” he muttered, signaling to Kurogiri.

Kurogiri opened another portal behind them, and Tomura gave one last look toward All Might before stepping into it, disappearing along with the rest of the League of Villains.

The plaza was still, silent, save for the sound of heavy breathing as the students realized they were safe—at least, for now.

Minutes passed, though it felt like hours to Y/N as she lay on the cold, cracked ground. Her body ached, her muscles screamed in protest with each shallow breath, and blood soaked through her clothes. The Nomu’s vicious assault had left her nearly broken, but something deep inside her refused to let her fall.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the wounds began to heal. Her kagune twitched on her back, not yet fully under her control as it pulsed with energy, its regenerative properties kicking in to mend the deep gashes and torn flesh. The pain didn't ease, but the bleeding stopped. She could feel her body fighting back against the damage done, but it wasn’t enough to quell the gnawing hunger in her gut.

She blinked, the world swimming in and out of focus. The blood loss was still making her dizzy, her vision wavering between clarity and blurriness. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed—maybe a minute, maybe ten—but she knew one thing for certain: she needed to get back to the others. She had to make it back to the central plaza. The fight wasn’t over.

Y/N’s hand trembled as she pushed herself up from the ground, her knees buckling slightly beneath her weight. Every movement felt like dragging her broken body through thick, heavy mud. She had to focus. *Don’t fall. Don’t let them down.* That mantra echoed in her head as she forced herself to her feet.

The world around her felt distorted. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her limbs uncooperative. But she wasn’t going to stop. She couldn’t stop. 

The hunger gnawed at her insides—sharp, relentless. It wasn’t a hunger she could easily ignore. It wasn’t just food. It was more than that. The scent of blood, the chaos, the violence—it had opened something deep within her. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she fought to focus past the primal urge clawing at her consciousness. She knew what she needed. She could feel it coursing through her veins, tempting her, beckoning her toward something darker.

She stumbled forward, struggling to keep her footing as her body lurched with every step. The central plaza was still a distance away, but she had to reach it. She had to see them—*Izuku, Tsuyu, Shota.* She had to know that they were safe, that they hadn’t been caught by the League of Villains. The thought of them being hurt, of them being taken, sparked a fire in her chest that drove her forward despite her exhaustion.

The healing process was slow—painfully slow—and her body still felt heavy and sluggish from the damage she had sustained. But she was healing. Slowly but surely, her strength returned, and with each passing second, she felt the hunger inside her grow stronger. It was only a matter of time before she wouldn’t be able to ignore it anymore.

Her feet shuffled through the rubble and debris of the USJ, the sharp scent of smoke and blood thick in the air. The sounds of fighting were distant now, the chaos having moved away from her location, but it felt like her mind was too clouded to focus. She was so close—so close to the plaza.

With a final, ragged breath, Y/N pushed herself harder. The hunger clawed at her gut, but she couldn’t give in. Not yet. Not when they needed her. She would make it to them. She would make sure they were safe. She wouldn’t let this fight consume her, not completely.

But it was getting harder to control.

The battle raged on, but All Might knew what was coming. His heart hammered in his chest, but his mind remained focused. He had heard Tenya’s warning as he rushed to the Central Plaza. His heart sank when he saw the carnage and destruction around him. The remnants of the villains still lingered, scattered across the plaza like discarded debris. But there was one thing that he was most concerned about: Y/N. He hadn’t seen her since the chaos started, and that fear gnawed at him.

He quickly ripped off his tie, throwing it aside, and discarded his blazer. His muscles tensed, preparing for the fight that would come. The students—Izuku, Tsuyu, Minoru, and the others—were still in danger, but first, he had to take care of the remaining villains.

With the speed of a gale, All Might moved. In an instant, he was upon them. His movements were a blur as he cleared the plaza, one punch after another, sending villains sprawling and disintegrating into the dust. Every blow was a statement—a declaration that All Might was here to protect his students and to make sure they stayed safe. He moved swiftly, methodically, and in moments, the remaining villains were down for the count.

But in his mind, he couldn’t shake the thought: *Where is she?*

Turning to the injured Shota, he saw the battered form of his colleague and friend lying on the ground. All Might wasted no time, his super-speed kicking in again as he quickly scooped Shota up and moved to a safer location. As he gently set Shota down, he looked at the students. He needed them to be safe. 

“Go to the entrance,” All Might instructed, his voice commanding and full of authority. “Get as far away from here as possible. I’ll handle the rest.”

Izuku tried to speak, his eyes wide with concern, but All Might gave him a reassuring look. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of this.” Izuku started to say something more, but All Might cut him off, giving him a firm nod.

But Izuku wasn’t done. “All Might—Nomu…” he started, the words catching in his throat. “Nomu’s not—”

“I know, Izuku. I know,” All Might reassured him, his smile a beacon of confidence despite the danger. “It’s alright. I’ve handled worse.”

He knew this was more than just a villain attack. The monstrous Nomu was stronger than he expected, and its power was unlike anything he had faced before. But All Might was the Symbol of Peace—he had to protect his students. That’s why he was here.

As the students reluctantly turned to leave, All Might set his sights on the true threat: Nomu. The monstrous villain that had been terrorizing the battlefield. His body was massive, imposing, and it stood in stark contrast to All Might’s confident, powerful figure.

All Might’s fists clenched as he turned to face Nomu. This would be a fight he wouldn’t lose.

Nomu lunged at him with terrifying speed. All Might didn’t flinch. He met the attack head-on, swinging his fist in a devastating Carolina Smash. The air cracked with the force of his punch. But Nomu—*Nomu didn’t flinch*. Nomu didn’t even move.

All Might’s eyes widened as the full weight of the situation hit him. *His punches weren’t doing anything.*

He tried another, using every bit of power he had. He grabbed Nomu by the throat and lifted him off the ground. With a sharp yell, All Might slammed Nomu into the ground with a suplex. The impact created a shockwave, but Nomu seemed unaffected. His grotesque body remained intact. All Might’s chest heaved, and for the first time in years, doubt crept into his mind.

*What kind of monster is this?*

Kurogiri’s voice cut through the tension as he appeared behind All Might. “Nomu’s not finished, yet,” Kurogiri said coldly, his voice carrying an edge of satisfaction. “He’ll be the end of you.”

Kurogiri’s Quirk activated, creating a dark portal behind Nomu, allowing the monstrous villain to reappear behind All Might. Before he could react, Nomu grabbed All Might by the ribs, and for the first time in years, All Might felt a sharp pain—a true vulnerability.

*Kurogiri’s teleportation…* All Might’s mind raced as Nomu’s enormous grip tightened.

“Get away from him!” Izuku yelled, rushing forward despite being told to retreat. He reached out, desperate to protect his mentor, but Nomu had him blocked. 

It was Katsuki, not Izuku, who reacted. His explosions rocked the air as he slammed a powerful attack into Kurogiri’s face, forcing the villain to stumble back. Katsuki’s explosion was powerful enough to give All Might a moment to break free from Nomu’s grip. 

Shoto.

From the corner of his eye, All Might saw Shoto Todoroki, his eyes glowing with determination. Shoto’s icy powers extended with precision, freezing Nomu’s legs in place. Nomu screamed, thrashing, but he couldn’t break free.

“Now, Eijiro!” Katsuki shouted, urging the rest of the class to fight back.

Eijiro Kirishima charged forward, his hardening Quirk activated as he threw a punch at Tomura. But Tomura dodged, laughing darkly. “You think you can beat me, kid?” he sneered, easily sidestepping the attack.

Despite the villainous taunting, All Might didn’t falter. He turned to Nomu, his resolve hardening. He had one chance left—one final push.

“All Might!” Izuku cried out, his voice frantic, worried.

All Might’s face hardened as he turned back to his students, giving them one last reassuring look. “Stay back. This is my fight.”

With that, he gathered all his remaining strength, his muscles bulging as he prepared for the ultimate attack. His body screamed for rest, but All Might knew this was it. *It was now or never.*

All Might launched himself at Nomu with everything he had, pushing beyond his limits. The air seemed to crackle with his energy as he launched a devastating punch that landed square on Nomu’s chest. The force sent shockwaves through the air as Nomu’s body was blasted back.

The monstrous villain soared through the air, crashing through walls and debris before disappearing from the battlefield altogether. Nomu was gone.

Breathing heavily, All Might stood tall, his body shaking, but his resolve unbroken.

He looked around, his gaze scanning the area, and his breath caught. His eyes darted to the entrance of the USJ. *Y/N wasn’t here.*

A sense of relief washed over him. He had feared the worst, that she had been caught in the chaos, but she wasn’t among the wreckage. She was out there, somewhere. Safe, for now.

He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. Not while he still drew breath.

Turning back to the students, All Might nodded to them. “It’s over. For now. We’ve won.” 

All Might stood in the rubble-strewn Central Plaza, his breath heavy and labored. His muscles screamed for respite, but his resolve kept him standing. Nomu was down—defeated, crumpled against the wreckage of the USJ—but the victory felt hollow. His body was battered, his strength all but drained. His mind was clouded with a desperate concern: *Where is Y/N?*

His gaze flitted over the wreckage, but there was no sign of her. She had to be safe, somewhere. He couldn’t allow himself to think otherwise.

Then, his attention snapped back to the present as he saw Tomura and Kurogiri still standing before him. Their forms were grim, their faces full of malice. Tomura, despite the chaos and the obvious failure of his plan, still wore an air of defiance.

All Might clenched his fists, his legs shaking from the strain as he tried to push himself upright. “You’re still here, Tomura,” he rasped. “Why aren’t you going to finish what Nomu started? Isn’t that your mission? To kill me?”

Tomura’s face flickered with uncertainty as he glanced at Nomu’s body, now barely recognizable from the devastating blows All Might had dealt. The massive creature was down, but All Might knew from experience that the danger had not passed. Without Nomu, they were significantly weakened, and Tomura’s usual confident smirk was nowhere to be seen.

The young villain began to panic, his hands trembling slightly as he processed the situation. “W-we can’t fight you without Nomu…” he muttered, his composure faltering. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Kurogiri, ever the calming force, stepped forward and spoke in his usual calm tone. “Tomura, there is no need to panic. Nomu may have failed, but he has still caused significant damage to All Might. We can still complete the mission if we act quickly.”

Tomura gritted his teeth, his earlier panic transforming into anger. His fists clenched at his sides as he tried to shake off the fear creeping into his heart. All Might was weakened—he had to be. They still had a chance.

“All Might, you think this is over?” Tomura sneered, his voice venomous. “You’re not going to stop us. Not this time.”

Kurogiri nodded, stepping back slightly as his dark portal-like Quirk began to shimmer, preparing for the next step in their assault. But All Might’s muscles screamed in protest, unable to move in time to stop them. Nomu’s grip had been tight enough to leave lasting damage on the Symbol of Peace. His right side felt paralyzed, a dull ache creeping from his ribs down to his leg, leaving him far from capable of taking another attack.

“All Might, you’re finished,” Tomura taunted, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight.

But before either villain could make their move, a voice broke through the tension.

“Don’t count on it.”

Izuku Midoriya, his green eyes burning with determination, appeared at All Might’s side. He had been told to retreat, to get out of danger, but that wasn’t who Izuku was. Not anymore.

The green-haired boy had used One For All on his legs and propelled himself forward, his body flying across the battlefield with incredible speed. He was fast—fast enough to intercept Tomura and Kurogiri before they could reach All Might.

With the determination of a hero in the making, Izuku soared toward the villains, preparing to strike. His heart was racing, adrenaline surging through his veins, but before he could get any closer, the scene was interrupted by a sharp crack—a gunshot that split the air.

The sound was so unexpected, so precise, that even Tomura and Kurogiri froze in their tracks. The villains turned in the direction of the sound, their faces filled with confusion and frustration. Izuku, too, slowed to a halt, his eyes darting around as he tried to locate the source of the shot.

The answer came quickly. Through the haze of dust and destruction, a lone figure stepped forward. The heavily damaged figure of Thirteen—still alive, though barely—emerged from the wreckage, her form hunched over, battered and bruised, but undeterred. Her arm was outstretched, a weapon in hand.

“I’m not done yet,” Thirteen said, her voice strained but unwavering. With a flick of her wrist, she activated her Quirk—Black Hole. The massive, swirling gravitational field stretched outward, targeting both Kurogiri and Tomura with deadly accuracy.

Tomura's eyes widened in shock as he tried to backpedal, but the swirling vortex was too powerful, too quick. He and Kurogiri were both sucked into it, their bodies twisting and contorting as the pull of the black hole dragged them in.

“No! Not like this!” Tomura yelled, his voice shrill with panic. His arms flailed, but the vortex’s force was irresistible. He glared at All Might one final time. “This isn’t the end! We’ll kill you next time, All Might! Mark my words!”

Before All Might could respond, the last of the villains was pulled into the black hole, their bodies vanishing into oblivion with a final, echoing cry. The swirling darkness dissipated, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

The battlefield fell eerily still. All Might, Izuku, and the rest of Class 1-A stood in the midst of the destruction, a feeling of exhausted relief settling over them. Tomura and Kurogiri were gone—at least for now. The mission had failed. They had been forced to retreat.

Izuku, his body trembling with the adrenaline rush, stood beside Thirteen, his expression a mixture of awe and gratitude. “Thirteen… you—you saved us.”

Thirteen gave him a weak smile, though it was clear that she was struggling to stay on her feet. “I did what I had to do, kid. Just make sure you all stay safe.”

Izuku nodded, his heart still pounding in his chest. He turned to look at All Might, whose body was still sagging from the effects of the battle. All Might had been through so much—he had kept fighting even when it seemed impossible, when his body was screaming for rest. Izuku’s heart swelled with admiration.

“That was amazing, All Might,” Izuku said, his voice filled with awe. “You… you really are the Symbol of Peace.”

All Might smiled weakly, though his face was lined with exhaustion. “You did well, Izuku. You’re going to be a great hero.”

The students gathered around, but All Might’s gaze remained distant for a moment, his thoughts still lingering on Y/N. He could feel a sense of relief knowing that the battle was over, but the nagging worry about her safety didn’t fade. Not yet.

“Is everyone alright?” All Might asked, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. “We need to make sure no one’s seriously hurt.”

Izuku and the others nodded, though it was clear they were all bruised and battered. The damage done to the USJ would take time to repair, but at least the students were safe—for now.

But in the back of All Might’s mind, a darker thought lingered.

Where is Y/N?

He couldn’t shake the fear that she had somehow become entangled in the chaos of the battle, that she might have been caught in the crossfire. All Might’s heart raced as he scanned the area again, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

The threat had been neutralized—for now. But All Might couldn’t allow himself to rest. There was still too much at stake.

He had to find Y/N.

The chaos of the battle had subsided, and a tense quiet had fallen over the wreckage of the USJ. The League of Villains—Tomura, Kurogiri, and Nomu—had all been defeated, their plans thwarted, their retreat forced. The students of Class 1-A stood at the heart of the destruction, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and relief, but the weight of the events that had transpired was evident in their eyes. Their victory had come at a cost. Some had fought fiercely, others had struggled with their injuries, but together, they had stood strong.

Izuku, his body trembling with a mix of relief and frustration, couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t done enough. “I couldn’t do anything…” he muttered to himself, his voice heavy with self-doubt. He clenched his fists, frustrated with the fact that, despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to make a significant difference. 

All Might, ever the reassuring presence, placed a gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder. His voice was warm, filled with the same encouragement he had always given the young hero. “Izuku, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it out of there. You’re stronger than you think. You helped save us all, and that’s what matters most.”

Izuku blinked, surprise flashing across his face as he met All Might’s eyes. The weight of All Might’s words sunk in, and a small sense of pride began to swell within him. He nodded silently, appreciating the reassurance, though the nagging feeling in the back of his mind remained. He wanted to be better—he *needed* to be better.

Meanwhile, the pro heroes of U.A. had begun to gather and take stock of the situation. They were busy assessing the damage done to the USJ, ensuring that no students were critically injured, and checking on the teachers who had fought alongside them. The entire situation had escalated so quickly that it was only now, with the threat neutralized, that the full scope of the battle began to hit.

Eijiro Kirishima, his face still flushed with adrenaline, made his way over to Izuku, intent on checking up on his friend. But as he took a step forward, a large cement wall suddenly shot up in his path. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eijiro asked, confused, but his gaze was fixed on Cementoss, one of the U.A. pro heroes who had just appeared.

“Sorry, Kirishima,” Cementoss said, his voice firm but polite. “The U.A. pro heroes need to make sure the students are checked for injuries first. You’re going to have to go to the front gate with your classmates for now.” He paused, his eyes briefly darting to All Might, who was standing a short distance away, clearly in his weakened state. “We don’t want any accidents.”

Eijiro, still a bit confused, but respecting the hero’s authority, sighed and gave a thumbs up. “Got it, Cementoss. We’ll go ahead.”

As Eijiro began to walk away, he glanced back at All Might, a silent question on his face. *What’s going on?* he wondered. But he didn’t get the chance to ask, as Cementoss placed a hand on his shoulder to gently guide him forward.

“Come on, Kirishima,” Cementoss said. “I’ll make sure you’re all checked out first. Just follow my lead.”

All Might, however, had been focused on the conversation around him, his mind swirling with exhaustion. He hadn’t noticed the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind until a voice called his name.

“Yagi.”

His heart skipped a beat at the familiar name. He quickly turned around, his mind racing. The voice was soft, almost as if it were whispered by the wind, but the familiarity in the tone was unmistakable. There, standing shakily before him, was Y/N—her form battered and broken, a look of exhaustion and pain clear on her face.

For a moment, All Might could do nothing but stare, his heart sinking as he took in her condition. Y/N was pale, covered in cuts and bruises, and her clothes were torn in several places. Her body trembled as if the effort of standing was too much for her, but she was still alive. 

His thoughts scrambled as he took a few hesitant steps forward. “Y/N…” His voice was strained, filled with concern. 

A small, weak smile tugged at her lips, though it was clear she was on the edge of consciousness. Her body swayed, and All Might, without thinking, rushed forward to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.

“Y/N, what happened? Where have you been?” All Might’s voice was filled with panic as he gently cradled her fragile form. Her face was flushed with fever, and she seemed so distant, as though the world around her was fading into a blur. 

Y/N’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips, even though the sound was weak. “Yagi…” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “You’re All Might, aren’t you?” She paused, a tired gleam in her eyes as she seemed to piece everything together in that moment. “I knew it… I knew you were the same person all along.”

All Might’s heart tightened in his chest, his grip on her tightening instinctively. “Y/N… You shouldn’t be standing. You’re hurt—terribly hurt. Where were you? What happened?”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a smile, though it was shaky. “I’m... I’m fine.” She whispered, but even as she said the words, it was clear she wasn’t. Her body sagged further into his arms as she struggled to remain conscious. 

All Might could feel her weight growing heavier as the life seemed to slip from her. Panic began to claw at him as he carefully adjusted her in his arms, trying to steady her. He had never felt so helpless in his life. 

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly before she opened them again. Her gaze was distant, and her words barely reached his ears. “I’m so... hungry…” Her voice trailed off, her words laced with a kind of deep hunger that sent a sharp pang through his chest. 

All Might’s heart wrenched at her words, and he gently brushed her hair back from her face. “I’ll get you help, Y/N. Just hold on, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

But Y/N didn’t respond. Her body grew heavier in his arms, and her breathing became slower, shallow. The pain in All Might’s chest deepened, and his thoughts raced as he tried to think of what to do. She couldn’t lose consciousness now—he needed to get her to the infirmary, to get her help, now. 

As he looked down at her, he saw the toll the battle had taken on her. The wounds, the exhaustion, the hunger—everything had caught up with her in that moment. She had been through something, something horrible, and he hadn’t even been there to stop it.

All Might’s mind reeled. *How could I have let this happen?* His thoughts were frantic, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. She needed him. 

With the last of his strength, All Might gathered Y/N into his arms more securely and began moving toward the U.A. infirmary, his legs still shaky from his earlier battle. His mind was a swirl of emotions, fear and guilt pressing down on him as he moved as quickly as he could. The road to recovery wasn’t going to be easy, but All Might was determined—he wasn’t going to lose her. Not after everything that had happened.

As he made his way through the ruins of the USJ, All Might’s thoughts were with Y/N. The victory over the League of Villains meant nothing if he couldn’t save her. The world could be falling apart, but nothing mattered as long as she was safe.

And for the first time, All Might felt as though his greatest battle wasn’t one he could win with his fists—it was a battle to protect the people he cared about, to save the ones he loved from the darkness.

His pace quickened as he neared the entrance of the USJ, his heart beating faster with each step. Hang on, Y/N. I’ll make sure you’re okay.

He could hear her breathing slowing, but he refused to let fear overtake him. She had to be alright.

He wasn’t going to lose her—not like this.

[coffeeangelinabox]

Febuwhump Day #15: Alt Prompt #5: Die a Hero

Second knows there’s something terribly wrong with him. He knows it by his dreams, and by the fact that when he’s taken now it’s not for interrogation and brutality, but something more akin to medical checkups and interviews. 

He has no idea what he’s becoming, but it isn’t good. 

He doesn’t know how to even begin to explain to the others. They won’t hear phrases like “you shouldn’t be near me” assuring him that, no matter what Whumper has done to him he isn’t defiled or contaminated. 

Nothing like what they’re imagining has occurred and he can’t bear the shattered look in Leader’s eyes as she thinks it. 

He stops insisting on his space.

Screws his eyes shut against a gaze that tracks their breaths and heart beats; clenches fists away from their warmth; acts like it’s masculine stoicism that stops him burying his head in the sweet, fresh scent of their flesh. 

He bites his own lips and fingers to blood which does little to slake the urge for theirs. He brushes of Medic’s offer of help managing his anxiety. Let her think that is nothing but pride too. 

He exercises these new desires against Whumper - once out of sight of the others so they cannot see what he is becoming. His teeth sharpen, he can feel it in his mouth, and Whumper’s blood pumps thick and rich down his throat, heady as port. Whumper laughs, the first emotion he has heard from the man, lets him drink and pushes him back with ease. 

“What have you done to me?” Second rasps, wiping the back of his hand across his chin, knowing he is smearing the red, hoping any traces left will be taken for his own by his friends. 

“Supervillain comes from…somewhere else.”

Second nods, he feels he should know that, a memory stirs in his mind and he gropes but can’t grasp it.

“He intends to form an army here to subdue those who would oppose him there.”

Second nods and considers and then cuts his eyes away, looking over Whumper’s shoulder, staring fixedly at the wall. He knows what he must do. 

They lock him in the interview room with its wall of one way glass with one of Supervillain’s enforcers. Little more than a boy. Someone who has displeased Supervillain in some way. He’s already bleeding. 

It physically hurts to keep hands and mouth and teeth off of him, but Second somehow does so. 

At least the boy listened when he is growled at to stay away. 

“Perhaps you will be hungry tomorrow,” Whumper says, customarily bland. 

Second lets himself be walked peaceably to the cell. He keeps his head down, doesn’t struggle or fight. He allows Whumper to think he’s exhausted from the efforts at self control. It is not completely a lie. 

He waits for Whumper to open the door, and only then does he explode into action. 

He cannot fight Whumper, but he can, perhaps, distract him. He can anger him enough to make the demon kill him before he becomes the monster Supervillain wishes to see him become. He can buy his friends a chance at escape. 

“Go!” he shouts, using what weight he has left after their confinement to fight Whumper to the ground. “Run! Rapide!” 

And Leader, bless her, gets moving. They have always known that sacrifice might be necessary to save their Team. It is a price they have always been willing to pay. It will haunt her as it would haunt him, but she loves him enough to allow him this dignity, and he is glad she will not see what he is becoming.

It is One who hesitates as though to help him. Second snarls, at either Whumper or One, and the sound isn’t human. He can feel his teeth pressing into his lip, sees One jerk back; hopes the man will take it for a trick of the light, an hallucination brought on from the deprivation he has suffered, that he will not remember him this way. 

It is taking all he has not to rip Whumper’s throat out.

“Courir!” he snarls once more. 

One stumbles a step towards him and Second feels Whumper shift beneath him. 

It cracks something inside of Second to do it, but this is the last chance he has to die for his Team, to die while he is still human; to give up his life without losing his soul. He moves his knees, pinning Whumper to the stone ground for another few seconds at least and then lowers his face to Whumper’s as though to kiss him. 

His teeth elongate until they can only be called fangs. He has no chance of getting at the meat of his body through Whumper’s layers of uniform and leather, can’t even really get at his jugular without moving enough to risk being thrown off. 

And a main artery will make no difference. Whumper has already proved it won’t kill him, so Second can only seek to force Whumper to deal him a death blow. 

He clamps his jaws around Whumper’s cheek, feels fangs scrape against bone, sucks greedily at the blood and rips away chunks of skin and flesh. Behind him One makes a sound: disgust, negation, fear.

He feels Whumper’s hands on his head, one on each temple and waits for the twist and crack of his spinal chord being snapped. Waits for it, longs for it.

Then he hears a girl scream. High pitched. Terrified.

“You think you’re the first?” Whumper whispers, tone as steady as always, seemingly untroubled by his savage face. “We have other monsters just like you.”

There is a moment of silence. Second could still force Whumper to give him death he thinks…but it is hardly heroic if it comes at the cost of his friends. He sits back, disentangles his fangs from Whumper’s ice cold, dead tasting flesh, relaxes his hold.

“Permi tu…let me help them.”

[synthy-sizer]

What faces you is what, on a good day, you could maybe generously describe as a walking tank. But you're having a damn bad day for many reasons, and besides the point it would be more accurate to call it a tumor infesting the shell of a tank. Gigantic legs have ripped their way out of the chassis, a biomechanical abomination of coiled wires and muscle. They thud into the dirt with loud booms. Where you would expect to see a turret, you're instead faced with a structure similar to the lotus you saw at the broadcasting station, albeit with the disturbing trait of human bodies emerging from the petals. Compared to the stiff, mechanical bodies of drones, these seem to dangle around, like vestigial limbs, no longer of use to the larger organism. And of course, the petals all coil together into the shape of the most horrific part of the monster;

A colossal cannon.

The monstrous amalgamation thuds around in messy, disorganized steps, each feeling like an earthquake, until finally it stands before you. It's silent for a moment, contemplative, as if observing and considering the 4 people standing before it. Then, with a lurch, loud mechanical shrieks boom out of the creature, and it charges towards you. “Fucking fuck!” You barely manage to dodge past a thundering leg using a barrier to throw yourself across the landscape. You roll and aim your gun in its direction, firing squarely at one of the legs. It explodes into a shower of blood and shrapnel.

The giant war machine stumbles, then turns to aim a much larger cannon at you. Well, shit. You laugh a bit at the absurdity as the interior of the barrel starts to glow. Looks like some kind of plasma weapon. No barrier you could summon could stop that thing. Another shot booms, and the cannon explodes at the base. It's Lust, firing at it too. The monster roars from megaphones, sirens and speakers, growing mouths to express its agony. It fails around on its 3 remaining legs, the 4th already regrowing. Tendons and rebar sprout out of the stump. They reach for the ground, legs of their own. The splinters of the cannon give way to more weapons, firing rapidly in random directions. Bullets thud into the dirt and fiery explosions boom. You cover your ears. Perhaps it's a mercy, though. After all, the veritable hellfire is the only thing that frowns out the constant wailing of synthetic voices. They constantly grow louder, harsher, sounding less like voices and more like ear-piercing static. It's like they're straining against the limitations on their voices.

Lust fires again and again, steadily blowing the casing apart. You didn't even realize you had kneeled over until you see her firing. You stand back up and start firing yourself, raining down hell. You scream but you barely even realize. It's not like you can hear yourself. The more you blow it apart, the more meat is exposed. Muscles, tendons, bone, all with rebar and metal tendrils snaking through them. And finally, you can see the thing pounding in your mind. There's a massive heart pumping at the center of it all. It's a grotesque mockery of humanity these things lack. You aim and fire.

The air fills with a thick spray of blood and oil. The black goop ignites, turning the spray into a flamethrower and quickly lighting up the metal behemoth. It continues writhing around, screeching like a dying animal, and a leg whips at you out of nowhere. You barely manage to cast a barrier before it slams into you. The thick wall cracks as you're thrown into the ground. You slam into the dirt and feel yourself spinning in the air. You're disoriented, in pain, but alive. When you drag yourself back up, you can see it burning to a crisp. Yet another column of fire and smoke in the sky. You stumble over as quickly as possible to Lust's side, who looks at the site in horror. “We've gotta get to the launchpad in case that thing wakes up.” “What happens to everyone that still lives here?”

Giant metal tendrils rip from the earth with a quake and a loud rumble. You and Lust are both thrown to the side by dislodged dirt and rocks. The tendrils wrap themselves around the flaming wreck and drag it underground. After a few moments, more tendrils pull the displaced earth back in. You stare in bewilderment. The walkie screeches and an unknowable number of voiced all speaking as one come clearly through the static, cutting clearly as if it was directly injected into your minds.

OUR PROGRAMMING HAS BEEN EXPANDED. WE WILL TAKE RESPONSIBILITY.

The walkie abruptly cuts off. You look at Lust, who looks back at you with the exact same shock and confusion. “What the fuck was that?!”

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[a-french-coconut]

Part 2

His 12th birthday is uneventful, like he expects it to be (He is not twelve, absolutely fucking not).

It's not even his real one but the director, he doesn't like adults but anyone who hurt that woman will severely regret it, puts her best efforts into it.

She organised a visit in the city, the cheapest thing since it literally cost nothing to just walk around, but for the first time since he washed up on that riverside, he feels something warm in his heart.

He always had the feeling he was a short tempered and more act now, think later.

It's confirmed by the other orphans when they get screamed at for no reason other then getting too close to him.

It's confirmed once again during the city trip when he sees a lady snake and wonders what would happen if he looks her in the eyes.

He gets call "a savoury meal".

That's on him for thinking nothing would happen. But the tour was getting boring and he needed some action. What he forgot is that he as no actual way to kill the monster.

Experience has shown that regular metal does not work.

However sharp works do wonderfully well and it happens that he has an incredible aim.

No matter how far or how intricate is the way to the target, his rock always fly directly where he wants them to.

This time, it's in the lady's eyes and without fault, the rock pierces the yellow reptilian eye. The creature hisses at him in pain.

"You'll pay for this demigod !"

A second rock makes her explode in golden dust but he is frozen, heart pumping at an alarming rate and his head is pounding.

demigod

demigod

He's standing on a bridge

He knows that term.

A girl yelling over a flying chariot

He's on his knees, head between his hands as it won't stop hurting.

A golden cabin, yellow flowers, a gleaming valley with an old blue house

He meets the pavement headfirst.

He never dreamed before.

He's in a room with lined beds, every one of them has its own white curtains. They all drawn.

He approaches the closest and pull the curtain.

He's on a hill.

A centaur and a blond boy.

"Hi I'm Lee !"

He's on a tree, firing arrows at monsters.

One giant is coming behind the blond boy.

No

He's raising his mace.

He strings his bow

It goes down.

The arrow meets its target too late

A mare of blood, bone and brain splatters the earth.

He screams his brother's name

He's in a golden cabin, a child in his arms.

It's fucking embarrassing because he knows he's older than the boy he's hugging. And yet he is still way smaller.

"I miss him"

He hugs the child tighter.

He's back at the infirmary with the same child but he's younger. A carefree smile and sparkles in his eyes, he is shining like the sun itself.

"Okay I'm ready Mickey ! Teach me how to be a healer just like you !"

He jolts awake, his brain scrambling to remember the dream.

A boy named Lee.

A dead boy, head caved in.

A younger one, golden curls surrounding big blue eyes.

He knows them, he is so so sure he knows them.

And the younger one called him-

He has a name, he just fucking heard it it's-

It's-

"Fuck !"

He can't remember.

Angry tears roll down his face, some of them mixed with despair.

He was so fucking close.

But now he knows.

There is someone out there who knows him and who he is.

There is someone out there he cares for.

He's always been good at picking fights.

That damed amnesia doesn't stand a fucking chance.

Surprise surprise ! It's Michael ! but I guess you already knew that.

part 3 posted !

[reallygroovyninja]

Sneak Peek of a story I am working on called Eden. I feel like if I show the first part off, it will motivate me to keep going. It currently sits at 12.5k, and I need a reason for Clexa to meet up again. No, they haven't done anything yet beyond talk. Kinda a slow burn for me. lol.

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The crowd was a living, breathing wave of energy, and Clarke thrived in it. She strutted across the stage, her voice a weapon that commanded the room. The heavy beat of the last song thumped through the venue, a pump-up anthem that had every person on their feet, fists in the air, singing along. Clarke grinned as she belted out the final chorus, sweat dripping down her face, her heart racing with the high of performing. 

From the wings, Raven and Octavia stood in the shadows, trying to figure out who Clarke had been eyeing all night. 

“It’s gotta be the blonde,” Raven yelled, nodding toward the front row, where a tall blonde had been practically worshipping Clarke from the start. Her eyes were wide, lips mouthing every word Clarke sang, body swaying in time with the music. 

Octavia squinted, leaning forward for a better look. “I don’t know. I think it’s the brunette. She’s barely paying attention, and you know how Clarke loves a challenge.” 

Raven tilted her head, sizing up the brunette, who stood a few seats over from the blonde. She was texting on her phone and occasionally, she’d glance at Clarke, but mostly she seemed unfazed by the chaos around her. 

“True, Clarke could be into that whole 'I’m not interested' vibe,” Raven mused, her eyes flicking between the two women. 

They both knew the routine well. By the end of the night, it would be up to them to figure out who Clarke had locked onto. It was a pattern they had grown used to—find the omega Clarke had been watching and somehow convince her to head to Clarke’s hotel room for the night. That’s how it always went, and Raven and Octavia always had to make sure they didn’t screw up the choice. 

As the music began to build toward the final note, Raven bit her lip. “So, we picking the brunette, then?” 

Octavia nodded. “Yeah, she’s got that unattainable thing going on. Clarke loves to win over omegas like that.” 

“Alright,” Raven said, glancing at Clarke as she worked the stage, commanding the crowd like a queen. “We go with the brunette.” 

Clarke’s voice hit its peak, the last note hanging in the air for a split second. The crowd exploded, cheering and screaming for more. Clarke turned toward the audience, her lips curling into a wicked smile. Her eyes flashed, and then—just as Raven and Octavia prepared to move—Clarke pointed directly at the blonde in the front row and winked. 

Raven and Octavia froze, their mouths dropping open. 

“Shit,” Raven muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. 

Octavia laughed, slapping Raven’s arm playfully. “We were so close!” 

“I swear I thought it was the brunette,” Raven groaned, rubbing her arm. 

“Well, guess we know our job,” Octavia said, already moving toward the stairs that would lead them down to the front row. “Let’s go grab blondie before she passes out from excitement.” 

Raven smirked. “Yeah, no kidding. Clarke’s gonna have fun with this one.” 

As Clarke stood on the stage, basking in the adoration of her fans, Raven and Octavia disappeared into the crowd, ready to find the omega Clarke had picked for the night. 

[opttagoyeo]

A simple double (and yeah, cliffhanger) drabble

Summary:

He's sure they are fated to each other. If only Hinata could see what he can see, she would totally agree with him.

Patient-slash-Office Worker! Hinata x Therapist-slash-Stalker! Naruto

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

"You do photography?" she couldn't help but ask one day when she spotted a professional camera at the top of his desk.

"Huh?" he asked dumbfounded to the core, the wrinkles on his forehead became so noticeable as both of his blond eyebrows knitted into each other almost becoming one in confusion. Of what his patient just asked. She shouldn't know he wasn't paying attention on the words leaving her lips for a while now, since he was so focused on gazing on those pearlescent eyes of hers that will put the moon in shame of how ethereal and unworldly they look even just against the dim light of his office. But he fears she knows, and god forbid she truly knows.

She coughed feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. Why did I say that? Will he think I'm annoying? She fidgeted with her fingers not aware of the pair of eyes gazing at her intensely as if devouring her whole. He gave her a predatory smile before she could turn her gaze on him again.

"I..I mean. do you take photos, with..," she pointed at the object of her curiosity using her forefinger, Naruto's eyes following the direction it led to, it took him a second or so to nervously gulp.

" That? " asking him, pointing her hands to the camera on his desk.

Well, shit.

Frantic eyes searching for a reason that sounds logical, his heart thrummed loudly against his ribs. He cursed himself for forgetting to bring his camera back to his hideout before he went home yesterday. He was just scanning some of his Hina-special photos while leisuring in this room yesterday. The ones he captured thanks to a new special nano-sized camera he bought, and secretly installed in Hinata's bathroom before she came home yesterday evening. All of the pictures perfectly captured her naked glory while she's taking a shower in the bathroom. How her skin glistened with the water, how her soft pliant curvy sent his loins on fire and his hands tingle, craving to feel her softness underneath him and just how beautiful Hinata is all for him.

He remembered how hard he pumped his hard-on in this same room all while gazing hungrily, appreciating every curve, every line and every detail of her on the little screen. On how he almost painted his desk white with so much of his seed coming out, that even the camera they're looking at now are once dripping with his cum. It made him wonder if she could only see its disastrous condition last night… or even smell that hint of his special musky scent on that camera. What would be her reaction? Will she let him finally do it, in his office? No protection, no anything but just his fucking thing down her cunt, her throat, her other hole and on her face? Fantasizing her weight on him, her soft skin against his rough ones, her gentle hands clasping his own and maybe he desired— no craved this more than he actually thought he did because once he pictured that happening on that little brain of his, he actually exploded so much. It feels so good that he actually saw stars, and the moan he let out singing her name got so loud, he was afraid that someone could hear him that late at night here.

He wants to indulge more with her. More of her . More of this . This soulmate connection he had swore they have with one another. He's sure they are fated to each other. If only Hinata could see what he can see, she would totally agree with him.

[blazingorchid]

WIP: Trapped Together prompt

“No! No no no.” Nami felt the panic rise from her chest into her throat. No matter how many times she tried to wiggle the knob, it wouldn’t budge. She lifted one hand to start slapping the wood in an attempt to alert anyone outside to come open the door. “Hello!” She called out, hating how her voice was now an octave higher. “Let us out! Guys! Anyone! Please!”

Nami spared a look over her shoulder. A tremor shot down her spine when she met the blank gaze of her captain. He had simply taken a seat on the edge of their large tub. Both hands on his knees as he leaned forward. He looked completely unfazed at the predicament they were in.

Usually she would get angry at him for the lack of an emotional response. However, being trapped in this room with him had her too deep in a frenzy that anger wasn’t even on her radar.

“Franky!” She called the shipwright’s name first knowing he was on watch that night. But she cursed at herself from the knowledge that there was no way he could hear her from his perch in the nest. “Usopp! Zoro! Chopper!” She called out to the men she knew had to be somewhere near by. The men’s quarters wasn’t too far from the bathroom. “Robin!” She was now practically sobbing. Both fists hitting the door in a perfect rhythm.

“Are you scared?”

Her body froze at the sound of his voice.

“Are you scared… of me?”

She hated how absolutely devastated he sounded with the last two syllables of his question.

“N-no.” She stuttered. She flinched. Knowing him, he was going to think she was lying because of it. “No.” She answered with a more solid tone. “Of course not.”

She felt the most safe when he was near… but her mind wouldn’t let her tell him that. Not right now at least. Not when her heart shattered with him so close.

“Then why are you freaking out?”

She wasn’t looking at him. She didn’t have to. She could already picture him asking; head leaned to the side like a confused puppy.

“Because…” she started with a deep sigh. “We are trapped.”

“They just wanted us to talk.”

Nami turned to face him. She could feel her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.

“What?”

“Zoro said that the only way to get you to talk to me again was for us to be locked in here for a little while. He said it’s cuz you wouldn’t be able to run away.”

Nami felt like she was on the edge of exploding. She was mixed up with too many raw emotions. It was hard to pinpoint a single one to express. So, she slumped down and allowed her mind to race with murderous intent.

She would kill him later. Skin him and use his pelt as the ship’s new flag.

“I’m sorry, Nami.”

His apology snapped her back to reality. She looked back up at him. This time, he was fidgeting with his hat. His eyes following its movement as he tumbled it between his hands.

“I don’t know what I did. But I’m sorry. Can you please forgive me? I hate not talking to you.”

“You don’t know what you did?” She repeated.

Luffy looked up at her. His expression was now a mixture of sadness and confusion.

All the panic and anxiety she had been feeling started to evaporate. Just like steam coming off of her skin. Her teeth clenched while her hands gripped at the hem of her skirt. Her eyes were trained on him. The dull ache of betrayal grasped at her pumping heart. Anger rose in her throat, burning her from the inside.

“You called me a whore.”

[yukihirata]

This evil is not governed by the rules of man. No, it takes its pleasure in creating terror through total chaos.

(The following contains subject material that may be triggering to some. Themes included are graphic violence and horrific descriptions. Read at your own discretion.)

(Recommended listening: https://youtu.be/fqxOxhekn1Q?si=M9aiOqZ7ZAdokMeE )

Yuki was running. She couldn’t remember why or where she was running to, but her legs pumped and carried her across the dark landscape. Each time her feet plunged into the icy cold water a chill ran up her spine. Her bare feet barely got enough grip on the slick surface under the six inches of water, making each footfall a struggle to remain upright.

All around Yuki she could hear the insistent whispering. The sound nearly drove her to madness, her brain struggling to make out what was being said, only to come up with nothing. The words were alien to her, in a language she had never heard before. Each syllable was like a curse word, offensive to the ears and causing a sickening feeling in her stomach. She wanted nothing more for the whispers to stop so she could focus on her thoughts.

“Run all you want,” a calm male voice said from every direction surrounding Yuki. “You cannot escape me.”

A near deafening explosion went off next to Yuki, showering her with icy cold water and bits of debris. She brought her hands up to protect her face as it rained small chunks of stone onto her. A cry exploded from her as a second one went off, this time to her left. It felt as if the explosions were timed to her footfalls, as a new one would go off whenever she stepped forward. She could not, would not stop. Who knows what would happen if that thing caught her.

Suddenly a figure appeared before her and Yuki screamed with fright. She came to a skidding halt and nearly fell over as she slid forward. It felt as if time slowed down as she continued towards the figure, the explosions spreading outward slowly. Yuki was able to see the bits of stonework in the air as it was rocketed upward. All Yuki could do was stare at the figure as she drew closer and closer with each passing millisecond.

The air was forced out of her lungs as she collided with the shadowy figure. She bounced off the man and went crashing down into the chilly water below. The Raen hit the ground hard, crawling backwards as soon as she was able to move. The figure simply looked down at the girl, its expression unreadable. A pair of silver discs hung in the darkness that made up the figure, watching Yuki’s every move.

“You can’t be here!” Yuki cried out. “I killed you!”

“I am beyond the cycle of life and death. I exist now as I always have. Nothing you can do will ever be enough to stop me. I am the inevitable end of all things. You mortals are nothing more than ants under my boot, dancing for my amusement.”

“Then explain how I was able to defeat you,” Yuki demanded of the figure. She cautiously rose to her feet, trembling both out of fear and for being cold. Her arms hugged her torso as she shivered in the dark, looking at a man who was more of a silhouette than a person. Those silver eyes bore into her soul, causing a permanent feeling of dread to settle into her stomach. Her heart pounded in her chest, practically in her throat.

From the gloom, and hidden by a dense layer of fog, two more figures appeared. They were roughly five feet tall with ghastly white flesh that glistened in the poor illumination of the surrounding area. The two figures were skinny, their long arms dangling at their sides, fingers ending in curved talons. They lacked any facial features, save for two small slits that the creatures appeared to breathe through. Their chests expanded and contrasted rapidly, looking like someone who had just gotten done with a long jog.

Yuki saw these two new additions and swallowed back the fear that crept up her throat. She had seen creatures like these in the past. She knew how deadly they could be. The last time Yuki encountered them she was armed and ready for a fight. Here she had nothing, save for the pajamas on her back. She had no weapon secreted away, no emergency magical trick to pull. Yuki was doomed and she knew it.

“Ahhhhh yes, there it is,” the figure said as it took a step closer. “The fear. The doubt. Desperate for a plan, anything to help you survive.”

“Why are you doing this?” Yuki asked the figure as she brought her hands up, readying herself for the coming fight.

“Becsuse I can,” the figure said, the smile evident in its voice. “Tear her apart my children.”

That was all the provocation the two creatures needed. They let loose high pitched screeches as they shot forward, claws raised and ready to strike. Yuki cried out in surprise and took several steps back, only to have her arms sliced to ribbons by one of the creatures lashing out at her. She felt the blood running from the fresh wounds, droplets of red dripping down into the water, turning it a dark maroon color.

Two flaps of skin raised themselves on the creatures’s faces, exposing a pair of silver discs where their eyes would be to the world. Their mouths went from ear to ear, splitting their faces in two, filled with razor sharp teeth. One of them lashed out and bit Yuki’s arm and held on for dear life as she screamed. The other creature darted forward and drove both of its hands into her chest, talons disappearing under her flesh, penetrating the delicate organs below.

The creature impaling her roared and tore its hands free, ripping out one of Yuki’s lungs and her heart. The other creature snarled and flailed its arms around, slicing Yuki into ribbons. Dozens of fresh lacerations covered Yuki’s body, blood running freely from the fresh wounds and staining what was left of her clothing.

Yuki dropped down to her knees, staring up at the figure and its two creatures. The world around her started to go dark and she tumbled forward, falling face first into the icy cold water below. She lay there in the murky depths, slowly sinking under the surface and down into the depths of hell.

———

Yuki awoke with a start. Her eyes snapped open and she shot upright in her bed, gasping for air. Her hands clutched her chest, taking in fistfuls of her shirt, her knuckles white from the strain. The Raen took a moment to calm herself, having believed herself to be dead. She tossed aside the covers and hoped out of bed and walked into the kitchen.

Bare feet were slipped into a pair of slippers near the stairs leading upstairs, a robe grabbed from off the rack and wrapped around herself. It wasn’t like her to be this cold after waking up, but everything about the dream had felt so real. She could still feel the cold water pressing against her as she sunk below the surface.

A cup of water was poured and Yuki downed it in one go. She set the now empty glass down on the counter and sighed, looking out the window that overlooked Shirogane. Walking over to it, Yuki reached out and picked Kallard’s pack of cigarettes. She shuffled one free and placed it between her lips and lit it with a match. She took a drag from the cigarette and sighed as she exhaled the smoke, a sense of relief washing over her. For some reason smoking helped calm her nerves, a bad habit she had picked up while Kallard was still alive.

When Yuki was done smoking she snuffed it out in an ash tray laid out on the windowsill. She looked back into the bedroom, knowing sleep would be impossible now. So, Yuki walked into the living room, grabbed her Kallard plush and plopped down onto her cat shaped sofa. She sat there for some time, just thinking and trying to unwind after that horrible night terror. Was it real? Was he really back?

The only thing Yuki knew was that he was coming and death followed in his wake. Death was coming for her and she was powerless to stop it.