#if there's any spelling errors in here rip

[chiasaaa]

— right here

nagumo yoichi x f! reader

summary: nagumo couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— nagumo knew the consequences of letting a fragile thing as love into his world. directing that love to someone within his world makes it even worse. as much as he loves to flaunt his carefree personality that made even his group of friends doubt the amount of care he puts into things, he knew to himself that he cares more than he lets on.

it’s one thing getting a scratch. it’s another to be admitted in the hospital in the name of a job.

he didn’t know how it came to it. you were the strongest in the order after sakamoto left, after all. but you had fallen injured badly, enough to send you off to a hospital bed. maybe it was that sheer strength and dependability you had that allowed people to forget that you are still first and foremost, a human being. maybe it was the relaxed smile you gave him that eased away his tense shoulders. he didn’t know, but he believed you’d come back the same way you departed.

unscathed and safe, the complete opposite of what you look like right now.

he sits by your hospital bed where you lay, silently observing how your chest rose and fell repeatedly. every time it does, a part of him feels a little relieved. it was a reminder that you were alive—that you haven't completely left him just yet.

then, the slightest twitch of your finger.

nagumo nearly fell off his seat rushing over to you, observing as your eyes slowly fluttered open. immediately, nagumo pressed the button by your bed and called for the nurse frantically.

"you're ok." he whispered, barely audible as the sight of his relieved face pooled your vision for the first time in a while. somehow, even in such a delicate state, you managed to crack a smile at him.

"hey, handsome." you grin.

"shh, save your breath." it was so unlike him, to be so serious. he didn't even respond to your light-hearted greeting like he normally would.

nagumo was, in short, different since then.

from the moment you woke up to the time you were discharged, nagumo never—not once—cracked a joke. everyone who had come to visit you were a witness to his change in demeanor. it was eerie, and it was beginning to get uncomfortable. the nagumo you knew isn't anything like that. he would have laughed at death right at the face—maybe add a poking finger or two at the cheek. that was the kind of man you knew him to be.

it gets weirder when he became a little more clingy since then. in your shared home, he would never be more than two meters away from you. when you go from one room to another, so does he.

need a drink? he does too. wanna cook lunch? he's already making your favorite. wanna take a walk to the park? oh, the sun's lovely for a picnic date! anything you do, nagumo does too.

you love that he spends more time with you, especially since your profession doesn't care much for cherished moments, but it's beginning to worry you more than relax you.

it was one day when he cuddled into you and the warmth of your bed that you decided to address the situation. you were simply reading a new book when nagumo declared himself the little spoon and laid his head on your chest to "read along". we all know he wasn't reading.

"nagumo, darling." you call softly, nestling your nose onto his mop of raven hair. then, you shut your book. "we need to talk."

"aww, we were getting to the good part!" he whined, referring to the book you just closed. with a pout, he raises his head up to lock eyes with your own. "you need anything? do your stitches hurt? shit, did it rip open?!"

"no, no." you sigh, easing him down with a brush of your hand through his hair. your fingers carded through gently, almost lulling him to sleep. "nagumo, while i do appreciate your increased concern, i fear it's getting a little out of hand."

"how could caring for you be out of hand?" he chuckled lightly. "if anything, i should have done this a long time ago!"

you look at him for awhile, pausing. it's hard to decipher what he thinks about at times, but the main factor as to why he knew you were the one was because you figure it out one way or another. "i'm right here." was all you could muster to say.

who knew that such simple words were enough to rip the sickening fake smile right off his face? before you knew it, his tattooed arms tightened around your figure, fearing that you might slip away if he hadn't held on tight enough. his face buried itself on your chest in shame, as if he knew he was caught in a heinously unforgivable act.

"you could have died." he mumbled through your skin.

"yet i'm here."

"you won't leave me, right?"

with a tender smile, you carefully raised his face from your chest. you didn't need to tell him. your eyes were filled with so much love, he couldn't be happier to see it manifest in real life. suddenly, the heat from your palm were a little warmer on his cheek that day. his fingers jolted with electricity at the touch of your skin. his eyes narrowed down to you, forgetting about everything else as only you remain in his vision. like a deer caught in a trance, too enamored by your presence.

"you can't get rid of me that easily, darling." you whisper against his lips, and oh he loved how it caressed on his skin. then, he indulged in your aphrodisiac, letting go of all the heavy weight he's been carrying around since your accident. the feel of your lips on his was real enough to convince him that you were there to stay—that if there is anyone in the world who wouldn't die on him, it would be you.

the one good thing he ever allowed himself to have in this world, and not once did you let him regret it.

[ponderingmoonlight]

oooo sanemi request - idea - you're training to be a new haishra and are very very very very nice to everyone, queue tragic af backstory and you believe in kindness IDK ok, cruelty made sure you kept your heart soft, but when you are FIGHTING there is nothing but darkness what happens when that trance doesn't leave you for a while & to snap out of it only sanemi is enough?

It's the tiniest bit different from what you requested, but I hope you like it anyway! Also, thank you so much for your cover suggestions 🤍

Sanemi Shinazugawa pulling you out of your trance with his own methods

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: What a kind and tender soul you are, loved by everyone around you. Until you get into a fight. Until the only person who is able to pull you back to reality is the wind hashira coming to safe you.

Warnings: average sanemi language, fluff fluff fluff, some spelling errors since I wasn't able to finish proofreading

„Me telling him? Are you actually insane? You’re the one Kocho-san sent”

“But you came with me. You go tell him!”

“Ain’t no way!”

“Telling me what?”

Their blood freezes in their veins instantly. Over and over, the wind hashira made it all too clear that they aren’t allowed to let you alone. Never. Not on a mission, not when there’s a high risk of you losing yourself. Because once you’re gone, there’s only one person who’s able to pull you back into reality.

“Well…(y/n)-sama…She…”

They don’t even have to finish this sentence for Sanemi to know exactly what’s going on. Are you okay? Are you facing some strong demons at the moment? His heart overfills with rage and anxiety to the point where he can’t take it anymore.

“Didn’t I tell you fools every single fucking time to look out of her? Useless brats. Show me where she is”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

It takes all his inner strength to not slam them into a tree nearby. Those fucking jerks had one job. That’s why he always insists on coming with you, because what if you lose yourself again with no way out but him? What if he’s too far away to drag you into safety in time?

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“Please don’t worry about me all the time, Sanemi. I can’t stand the thought of you being distressed because of me.”

Yeah, to hell with your angelic voice and your kind eyes. Fuck your gorgeous appearance, your uniform that makes you look like an angel walking on earth. You, a true sweetheart who is loved by everyone without any exceptions. And him, who built a wall around his heart only you were able to overcome.

But when you fight against demons, that tender self of yours vanishes into thin air. The second death and fright surround you, you turn into a serial killer who doesn’t show any mercy. Especially towards demons, but when a human comes into your way…

Sanemi picks up his pace in an instant. He can’t allow something like that to happen, he can’t stand that look of deep sorrow written on your face the second you realized what you’ve done in your trance. He just has to make sure this fight ends on time, that he’s able to pull you back into reality like he always does.

He and only him. Not even Shinobu is able to reach your mind when you lose yourself. In fact, no one but Sanemi is. Why on earth him? Out of all people you could trust this much, you somehow chose him. Oh, he definitely doesn’t deserve any of the feelings you hold for him, he doesn’t deserve you even looking his way. After all, everyone sees nothing but a menace in him with even his little brother fearing him to the core.

“(y/n)…s-sama?”

His blood freezes in an instant. There you stand with your arm buried in the chest of the demon lying to your feet and your eyes gleaming bloody red. How long did you fight already? How long has this been going on without him knowing?

“Get away from here before she rips your heads off”, the bars behind him.

You don’t speak, furious orbs now fixated on Sanemi. In the split of a second you dash towards him, ready to slice his throat open with your bare fingernails. Just in time he manages to get a hold of your wrist and push you into the ground, his whole bodyweight now lying on top of you.

“(y/n)”, he mutters softly.

A violent scream escapes your lips, limbs desperately fighting to get away from him. Oh, how much Sanemi hates to see you in that state. Shinobu was never able to find out why you turned into this when facing danger. Despite your tender and warm personality, despite your remarkable sword skills and technique, you lose control over your own mind and body when the situation around you gets too heated.

None of that matters now. Sanemi grabs your body from behind and pulls you into his lap while placing gentle kisses on your neck.

“It’s fine, (y/n). Just come back to me. Those demon are gone, got it?”

The shell of your body still fights for freedom, still doesn’t accept to be held by him.

“Come back, (y/n). I’m here. Everything’s fine.”

Is that…Sanemi talking to you? Your vision is foggy, eyes roaming around what looks like a dark forest. Your whole body is covered in ice cold sweat, your heart hammers so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute.

It happened again.

“Sanemi”, you breathe his name into the night while allowing yourself to collapse against his chest.

You lost yourself again. Did you hurt someone? Why were you here? How-

“Don’t worry, you’re alright.”

“And the-“

“No one got hurt”, he reassures you in an instant.

“I…lost again”, you mumble defeated.

You’re able to control every single fiber in your body, can wield a sword so delicately that Ubayishiki-sama even chose you to join the circle of pillars. But still, you lose yourself when facing a heated fight.

“Don’t worry too much, nothing happened and I was home”, Sanemi mutters into your hair.

“Thank you for coming. And…for everything else. I’m sorry for making such a mess over and over. You must-”

“Nah, I don’t wanna hear you putting yourself down again, (y/n). You’re good, okay? I don’t mind looking after you at all, to be honest.”

You don’t know what came over you. Is it the anger, the frustration over your own disability? You can’t help but swing around, arms wrapped around Sanemi’s larger frame while you allow your head to rest against his steady heartbeat.

“It’s just so frustrating. From one second to the other, I lose the power over my own body. If it wasn’t for you, who know what I’d do to innocent people around. I’m a weapon, Sanemi. To even be considered a hashira-“

“Stop talking nonsense”, he interrupts you gently, his hand pulling your chin up to force you to look at him.

“You’re wiping the floor with our asses in training. Most of us hashira can’t stand a chance against you. You are pure and kind, loved by everyone. We don’t give a single shit about that happening from time to time. And like I said, I’m always here to pull you back into reality.”

“You’re my greatest treasure, Sanemi”, you mutter.

Tears immediately shoot in your eyes, take away that gorgeous sight in front of you. Truth is, you love Sanemi Shinazugawa with all your heart. Since he first barked at you, since you sat underneath a tree the whole night and talked about all the things both of you been through, since he put you out of your episode for the first time. Oh, how much you adore that man.

“Don’t talk nonsense, (y/n). I’m worse than everyone else.”

His heart stings violently when nothing but the truth leaves his mouth. He doesn’t deserve your praise, let alone your glossy orbs staring up at him. Fuck, he shouldn’t even put his arms around you like that. Not when you’re an angel while he’s a no one. Not when you could have anybody else, a man who deserves your kind words, to see your lovely figure every morning after waking up.

“I don’t care about others. You’re the one that I love, Sanemi. Because you make me feel good about myself, because you bring me back to reality when I can’t return on my own. You’re rough, you’re suborn and you can be kind of mean-“

“Only because some of these jerks deserve it”, he grumbles.

“But apart from that, you are a kind and loving man. I can’t help but search for you in a crowd of people, I am forced to ask myself every time what you’d do in my place. You’re constantly on my mind. Your words, your skills, your voice. Just…you. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Stop making fun of me…”

Fuck, he can feel his face heating up in an instant. This can’t be true, right? Why would a girl like you fall for someone like him? Maybe you’re still a little dizzy and can’t understand the meaning of your words, maybe-

“I’d never make fun of you.”

And then your lips meet his. So unexpectedly that his widen eyes stare at your soft features in utter disbelief, so innocently that he can’t help but wonder if he’s dreaming. You, kissing him?

“You’re gonna regret this when you’re clear again, (y/n)”, Sanemi mumbles against your lips.

“Look into my eyes. I am clear, Sanemi. In fact, I’ve never been clearer in my entire life. I love you.”

You kiss him. Over and over, your soft lips brush against yours while he can’t help but wrap his arms around you in a desperate attempt to keep you this close. His heart pounds so loud that you’re definitely able to her it, his fingertips get lost in your hair.

“I love you too, (y/n). Fuck, I love you so much”, he finally replies.

“I’m so lucky for having you.”

“You, lucky to have me? Hell, I’m the luckiest guy on earth”, Sanemi grumbles with his hand gently caressing your cheek.

This is real. Not a cruel trick his spooky brain plays on him, not one of the dreams that keep him up all night wanting more. No, your head really rests against his chest, you really have your arms wrapped around his body still, you really kissed him.

“No wonder it took you so long to come back, Shinazugawa. I didn’t know you were busy with (y/n).”

Sanemi’s heart drops to the floor, both of your head darting towards the direction of that painfully familiar voice in an instant.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, he barks at Obanai in distress.

“Everyone was worried about (y/n) so I came to check”, Obanai replies dryly.

“Oh, thank you so much for looking out for me! But don’t worry, I am fine!”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“GET LOST OR I’LL KILL YOU!”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[kisblle]

Quenched

Pairing piece to Starved - you can find here -

https://www.tumblr.com/kisblle/769006797246840832/starved?source=share

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Author's Note: For some reason I LOVE imagining High Honor Arthur so confused, awkward, and utterly obsessed with women - especially after your last rendesvouz with him *wink wink.* If you haven't read the first part, I highly encourage you to read it as I have it tagged above (I apoligize for the ugly link, I'm still trying to figure out Tumbr.) I've had the first part of this written for sometime now, but for the past few weeks I've been going back and forth between several other Arthur fan fictions I've been wanting to write, and I finally got around to finishing this one. So all in all, enjoy!

PS: My 2019 Macbook air decided to stop spell checking for me, so please give me a break on any errors present.

Summary: It's your turn.

Warning: MDNI, graphic sexual contact, oral sex

-

It was no secret that Arthur liked to wander.

And for the past several days he had been wandering over New Hanover doing absolutely nothing but trying to shake the thought of you.

Shot a rabbit once or twice, caught a couple fish near Owanjila, bought a treasure map off of a so called “adventurer.” But nothing seemed to cure him from the incessant memory that was you with his cock down your throat.

Now, as Arthur kicked pebbles down the Dakota River, a budding erection forming in his work jeans, he couldn’t help but to feel guilty. Arthur was no saint, and Hell would have to freeze over before he called himself one, but he knew the difference between right and wrong.

The cowboy knew you weren’t some cheap pair of legs he had bought at the saloon. He didn’t pay for your company, everything you did was out of your own free will. And perhaps that’s why he felt so guilty. Because when you stared at him, with that god awful grin plastered on your face, he didn’t take your hand and throw you on the cot with him.

He didn’t return the favor.

And now that’s all he dreamt of.

Your sweet juices pouring down his stubble as your delicate hands roamed through his hair. His tongue dancing against your sweet cunt as he looked up at your disheveled face. Your legs tightening around his neck in such pleasure that you were forced to moan into a pillow to silence yourself.

The thought itself turned him mad.

The cowboy let out an exuberant huff, realizing what he had to do. Whistling for his Turkoman, he jumps on the back of his mare, riding swiftly to Horseshoe Overlook as the sun falls below the horizon.

-

“Good to see you Arthur,” Hosea chimes as the gunslinger enters back into camp, slinging his saddle across the hitching post with a loud thump.

But the outlaw ignores his mentor.

Like a man on a mission, Arthur's sharp eyes scan the camp until they land on you standing by the fire, a half-drunk beer in hand. His stomach tightens as he watches Sean tell a joke, the small crowd, including you, erupting into a deafening roar of laughter.

Without another thought, the cowboy stalks towards the crowded campfire, placing himself silently beside you, doing his best to remain unnoticed. With a shaky exhale, he drags his calloused pinky across the side of your hand inconspicously, desperate to divert your attention from ostentatious irishman.

Like rain on a cool summer day, Arthur's heart pitter-patters inside his chest when your eyes widen in realization, meeting his with a dumbfounded gaze. His stomach nearly dropping as your lips gently part, just as they had for him in privacy all those days ago.

“Mr. Morgan,” you whisper in acknowledgment, a knowing grin tugging at your lips.

As your sultry gaze met his, Arthur had gone mute.

What was he supposed to say?

As if his vocal chords had been ripped out as a form of torture, the best he could choke out was, "I....You....Sorry."

Your brows furrow in confusion, tilting your head as if you were trying to decipher his mess of words.

Arthur attempts again, only for another string of nonsensical babble to spill from his lips. Frustrated, he lets out a curse under his breath before grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the drunken commotion without another word.

"Arthur?" You're able to drawl, awkwardly stumbling behind the cowboy as he swiftly drags you across camp, his hand fiercely attached to yours like a predator to prey. "Arthur!" You innocently laugh as he pulls you into the closed quarters of your private abode. "What'r doin'?"

The cowboy rapidly pulls down the flap of your canvas tent, turning to you with a scowl etched on his face. He grabs both your hands into his own, and opens his mouth in any attempt to just speak his mind. But once again, he is only able to choke out a string of meaningless rabble. In frustration, he drops your hands and quickly rubs his temples before falling onto his knees in front of you, not breaking your gaze.

And with a clear, desperate message, he hoarsely breaths, "Let me." Just as you had done days before.

Arthur's cock hardens as you look down at him, biting your lip out of seduction and bobbing your head up and down with a definite yes. He lets out an exhale of relief, quickly standing back up and instantly crashing his lips into yours without a second thought.

It was if God himself had given Arthur the ability to speak again as between kisses he is able to muster, "you've driven me mad." His hands reach up to cup the backs up your thighs, easily lifting you off the ground and setting you in your cot so your legs easily hang off the side. As if he were a godly man, he falls onto his knees in front of you with every ounce of prowess running through his veins.

You prop yourself up on your forearms, watching the man make slow work of the laces on your boots, refusing to loose eye contact as he slips your shoes off and neatly places them under your cot. "You've turned me into dog, woman," he confesses, shaking his head in utter fascination.

You push yourself to a sitting position, "Oh, Arthur," you yearn, knowing that for days, months, years, that this moment is what you had dreamt off.

You cup his chin in your hands as he stares deep into your soul, making work of your socks as he stares back at you, completely in awe of the beautiful creature in front him. He grabs your right leg, his calloused finger pulling them to his lips where he lands several soft kisses. Only stopping to inhale your sweet scent; worshipping you as if you were an ancient goddess.

You shudder as you fall onto your forearms, your head tilting down as you watch the cowboy hike your skirt onto your hips and place tender kisses upwards towards your thigh. His right hand, tensly gripping your left leg outward as you tilt your head up in pleasure

His stubble gently pokes at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, taking his right hand and slowly pulling down your bloomers, tossing them into the corner of your tent without care. His hands find their way to your thighs, cocking your legs outward to him as if you were his to feast on.

Dumbfounded, the cowboy remains silent for several moments, admiring you bare cunt as if it were a prized painting hanging in The Louvre. "S'beautiful," he whispers.

Before letting himself touch you, he looks up at you one final time for that permission he so desperately wishes you to grant him. His eyes widen like the grand canyon, so intrigued and hypnotized by your body that he would do anything at your command.

You bite your lip seductively with a small grin, taking that as his permission to rub his lips up your thighs one more time before dragging his tongue up your seam.

His delicate, crystal orbs refuse to break eye contact as his lips connect with that bundle of nerves he knows every woman enjoys, simultaneously hauling both your legs up onto his broad shoulders.

With another hitched breath, your chin tilts upwards to the top of the tent out of gratification, slowly exhaling as his mouth works you. "Look at me," the gunslinger commands against the warmth of your cunt, his tongue rocking back and forth in steady beat.

You swallow and peer back down, his eyes already glued to yours as he observes every hitched breath and moan leave your lips, still pleasurably feasting your core.

Arthur couldn't help but to feel like the luckiest man alive as he tastes you, your sweet juices melting down his stubble as his cock twitches below his jeans. Your hands find his chestnut locks, gripping his shoulder length hair into your palms, gently pulling at the strands every which way. You fingers twist through his mane, just as he had fantasized days priors.

But Arthur was a greedy man; he wanted more.

He lifts your legs off of his shoulders, taking your right thigh into his left hand and pushing it outward on the cot. With his tongue still deligating your bundle of nerves, he thrusts his right index finger into your core almost without warning, causing you to loudly exhale.

But that wasn't enough.

He enters his middle finger, curling his two digits upwards as he gently hits that sweet spot of yours.

You were helpless at that point.

You let out a loud, pleasurable moan as his fingers rocked back and forth, his tongue violently massaging you, his blue eyes glued to your blush ladden face.

Arthur can't help but to smile into the warmth of your cunt, knowing that he was doing a good job at every loud moan that escaped your mouth.

"Gotta keep quiete girl," he's able to assemble, quickly grabbing the small pillow off the head of your cot and placing it over your mouth, barely missing a beat of his tongue.

You hold the pillow to your mouth, hiding the sweet sounds of Arthur's accomplishments as he continues to work at you.

Second by second you can feel yourself heading towards your finish, his tongue licking back and forth as if it was dancing to a steady beat, his fingers pushing in and out of you as if his life depended on it.

Almost without warning, your hips jut upward at his mouth like a feral animal in heat as even the pillow you hold barely hides the loud, wreckless moans of your finish. The feeling of your rapidly beating heart, pumps below your belt as sweat perperates down your forehead.

Arthur's tongue doesn't leave your cunt until both your legs are cocked open lifelessly to him, your breath finally evening out as you sprawl across the cot, utterly spent.

The cowboy stands up, proudly surverying his work. Taking his sleeve and wiping off your juices from his chin, the sweet taste of you still echoing on his taste buds. His cock rock hard behind the thin fabric of his jeans.

But just as you did to him days prior, he smiles at you and turns to the flap of your tent without antoher word.

"Wait," you call out.

The cowboy turns around, his brows raising in intrigue.

And you say the words he couldn't.

"Stay."

[4hournap]

Idea:

Twisted Wonderland x Angry Mexican(GN) Reader

What do I mean by that?

I want a broken-down, rage-filled Mc who is done with everyone's bullshit.

I want this person to fall apart, so angry they're crying. Mc had a vision/dream of their photo being on their family's Ofrenda for Día Del Los Muertos.

"I Have Every Right To Be Angry! You Lot Have A Home To Return To! You Have Support Systems! I WAS RIPPED AWAY FROM MY FAMILY! FROM MY WORLD! THEY PROBABLY BELIEVE I'M DEAD! BUT NO, I'M HERE PLAYING A GLORIFIED BABYSITTER TO A GLUTTONOUS CAT WHO'S ALWAYS DRAGGING ME INTO STUPID SITUATIONS! I AM SICK AND TIRED OF THIS. AND OF THE MISTREATMENT OF THAT NARCISSISTIC BIRD. CONSTANTLY DEALING WITH THE THREAT OF BEING KICKED OUT, HAVING THE POWER CUT OFF, AND NEVER HAVING ENOUGH FOOD. YOU DON'T GET TO BE ANGRY WITH ME! YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME SELFISH!"

What do we think? Also plz forgive any spelling errors 😅

[fratboykate]

BGAU - Do they have any the moment that scars or changes them forever? Somethign that's so big they hardly even talk about if ever? Or is that what the day in the trailer with Eli is? You don't have to have something. Just curious.

Listen...LISTEN TO ME...I'm giving you a clear heads up. If you're a baby or sensitive in any way...just don't read this. I've been warning you for two days. If you read it and get all messed up, that's on you. I've told you it's a heavy chapter multiple times now. Proceed at your own risk. Anyway, here's almost 10k of likely the worst day of their lives. If not outright worst, it's definitely at least Top 3 lol.

---

It’s nearing the end of summer. The day starts like any other show day. No one could’ve imagined how the rest of it was going to go.

The air is syrupy and humid even as the sun dips behind the hills.

They’re somewhere in Europe. Kate always loses track of the cities a few weeks into a tour. It's a sprawling outdoor music festival. Farmland turned fever dream. Ten stages. Six beer gardens. Sold out five months ago. Two hundred thousand people scattered throughout the grounds. A ruined castle on the horizon. The scent of grass, sweat, and vape smoke curled into the August heat.

The crowd is electric. The sea of people stretches half a mile in every direction. A hundred thousand packed tight and rolling like thunder. It’s the final night. This is a prime slot. They’re all here for the headliner. And that’s Kate Bishop.

The set she planned for tonight is perfect.

The golden light of the sun bleeds into the violet of her stage design. The band’s behind her. The dancers surround her. Screens lit in deep jewel tones. Kate’s locked in. Mic stand in one hand, the other mid-sweep just as she hits the bridge of the monster single. The one that put this album atop every Billboard chart for fourteen weeks straight. Her voice sails clean. The wind catches the chorus like a spell. Clamorous. Joyful. Unholy. She sings. The crowd chants every lyric like scripture. Thousands of them. One voice.

Heat drips down Kate’s back as she nails every step of the choreography. Hair stuck to her neck. Glitter streaks through her sweat. Bass rattles her ribcage like a second heart.

BOOM!

Muffled. Distant. She doesn’t hear it, not fully. Her in-ears dull the worst of it. It’s probably pyrotechnics from one of the other stages. Or a mistimed cue. Tech error. It’s happened before. But the sound doesn’t crack right. The heat that follows isn’t orchestrated.

Then the ripple. A section of the crowd shifts like birds lifting off wire.

The second blast hits. Closer. A fireball blooms near the vendor stalls. Smoke. Screams. Panic like a tear ripping fabric.

The stage shudders beneath her feet. Sound becomes pressure. Not a noise…an impact. A rupture.

Everything breaks at once.

One second: lights, bass, electricity, camaraderie. Then: Fire. Impact. Mayhem. A mass of people cleaved open.

Her diaphragm locks. Spotlights blind her. She can’t really see past them, just…a flurry of movement. Barricades, exits, figures scattering. No audio. Her earpiece fizzes, dies.

The roar hits next. Screaming, all at once. She sees the crowd fracture. A hundred thousand people becoming panicked animals.

Then the third explosion rips through. The closest one yet.

Kate flinches. Reels. The crack splits the sound system and slams the crowd. Fences buckle. Plastic cups fly. Dividers collapse under the press of bodies. People running, climbing, screaming.

Techs yell into radios. From the tower: “Cut audio! Kill the lights!”

Kate doesn’t move. Not until one thought slices through everything else. Yelena. Then Ellie.

She whips hard. Stage left. That’s where they’d been. Twenty feet. Maybe thirty. Not right at the barrier, but close enough for Ellie to see Mommy when she waved at her. That’s all Kate remembers.

A hand yanks her shoulder. Drags her back.

Security. One of hers. One of Yelena’s. She rips free.

“Where is she?!” she shouts.

No one answers. They’re fully focused on moving her.

Behind the curtain…chaos. Lights strobe. Crew scramble. Lights half-rigged. Carts overturned. A camera on the ground, lens cracked, still recording. A haze in the air, thick with vapor and floodlight dust.

“Where is she?!”

No one even looks her in the eye.

More hands. More arms. Guiding her. Steering her. Pushing her toward protocol, away from risk. Kate shrugs them off. Shoves back. Tries to break their grip. They won’t let her.

“Yelena!”

She claws forward. A sharp elbow. A twist. One of them yanks her again. She whips around, fists clenched.

“Where the fuck is my wife?!”

//

They’re in Spain. Some open-air hullabaloo south of Valencia. Hundreds of thousands. Endless fields. No real perimeter.

Kate’s headlining. Not her event. Just another stop on the tour. But she’s the closer, the marquee name, the act they built the final night around. Her name. Her stage. Her crowd.

Yelena hates the venue. Not because it’s actively dangerous. It’s just…loose. Too many moving parts. A patchwork of third-party contractors, underpaid security, overworked logistics managers. Local enforcement, scattered at best. Her own team woven into larger logistics wherever she could squeeze them, but not enough. Never enough. Not for this size. Not for this layout. Not when she can’t run full control.

The infrastructure’s passable. But passable isn’t good enough for Yelena. Not on foreign soil. Not with her family here.

So she walked it. Twice. Then again. Ground sweeps. Tactical audits. She scouted every entrance, exit, fence, scaffold, staging lane. Logged every choke point. Clocked EMT stations. Noted tower elevations. Confirmed load-bearing tolerances on the ramp Kate would walk. It’s her standard process. But this one took longer. This one had to be cleaner.

Because this time, she wasn’t just protecting Kate.

One year old Ellie was strapped to her chest for half of it. Plump legs swinging. Sunhat drooping sideways. Juice mustache gluey across her upper lip. She waved at every staff member she laid eyes on like it was her job. Yelena moved with twenty-five pounds of fragile, wriggling consequence tethered to her sternum and never once broke stride.

It was supposed to be routine. Exhaustive. Annoying. Not perfect…but secure.

Even Yelena didn’t see it coming.

By showtime, she’s as calm as she ever gets. Earpiece in. Eyes scanning. One hand on the baby wearing noise-cancelling headphones attached to her chest, the other tries to keep the tiny sticky fist tangled in her braid from ripping the whole thing off her scalp. The two blondes are just left of the stage, nestled at the edge of VIP. Exactly thirty seven feet from Kate. Close enough for Ellie to wave, and for her to see Kate wave back.

The one-year-old loves to flap her chubby hands every time the crowd screams. She's used to the sound. The pulse. The vibration of her mama’s voice shaking stadium walls.

Kate’s half an hour into the set. In her element. Hair wild, violet mic like a scepter in her grip. She’s drenched in light and power and sound. And she’s never looked more like a goddamn rockstar.

Then it happens.

First…pressure. A compression. Like the oxygen getting sucked out of their surroundings.

Then the boom.

East side. Food tents. Yelena knows exactly where because she knows the layout by heart. The fence line. Her head jerks toward it. Her body doesn’t jolt…it locks. Muscles tight. That old coil of instinct kicking in. Mind sharper than it’s been in years.

The LED panels behind Kate ripple. The crowd jolts…a visible swell. A beast made of bodies twitching all at once.

The crackle in her ear starts immediately. Static. Then overlapping voices. Too many, all layered. Different accents. Cluttered panic.

Two of her guys sprint toward the blast point. A third meets her eyes from across the tent. Doesn’t speak. Just nods. He felt it too.

Yelena hears the sound a second later. Louder this time. More real. Screams start to layer over the music. The pressure breaks. Intuition floods her.

Chatter keeps clogging the comms. Yelena catches a snippet.

“Confirm blast?”

“Was that pyro?”

“Negative. Not planned. NOT PLANNED.”

Yelena doesn’t think. She doesn’t speak. She runs. Straight for the stage. For Kate.

But mid-stride…she stops. Because Ellie shifts against her. Her weight suddenly heavier. Present. Vulnerable. The baby whimpers.

Yelena looks up. Kate is halfway across the stage. Still caught in the spotlight. Mid-note. Mid-breath. Frozen in the wash of a set that no longer matters.

Then the second blast hits.

Closer. Hot. Loud. A tremor up her legs. Kate disappears behind a plume of dust and debris.

In the space of a heartbeat, Yelena does the math. No path. No cover. No guarantee she can reach Kate without putting Ellie in direct danger. She could die trying. They all could. Kate is exposed. But Ellie is breakable.

Yelena makes the call. She turns. Doesn’t second-guess. She runs. Not to Kate. Not this time. For the first time in her life…she runs away. With her daughter in her arms.

She hits the barricade like a weapon. Barreling through it with her shoulder down. Ellie crushed to her chest. The baby cries out, startled, then louder. Her limbs kick. She writhes in confusion. Yelena adjusts the strap, forcing them closer. Covers her head.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” Her voice is steel.

She ducks behind scaffolding. Follows the passage she mapped twelve hours ago. Every step pre-loaded. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t turn back.

She’s not just Yelena Belova now. She’s Ellie’s mother. And that changes everything.

Her grip on the baby carrier tightens. One arm cradling Ellie’s back, the other shoving bodies aside. Moving like a freight train. Controlled violence. Targeted speed. No wasted motion.

Crowds flood past her. Stampeding. Hollering. Falling. Rubble rains down from above. Tent poles snap. Plastic panels collapse. A lighting rig crashes behind her.

Yelena doesn’t even blink.

“North gate,” she shouts into her comm. “Pick-up. Move.”

She clips a barrier. Shoves through a gear cart. Vaults a waist-high fence.

Ellie is sobbing now. Loud, desperate. Her fists hammer Yelena’s collarbone. Yelena presses the infant firmly to her chest.

The third explosion hits. Behind her. Too close.

It rocks the scaffolding. Sends a thundercrack through the concrete. The heat punches the back of her legs. She doesn’t slow. A tent collapses behind her. Someone screams for help. A speaker sparks. The crowd ripple turns tidal.

She keeps going. Refuses to look back. Can’t. Because if she does, she might stop. And if she stops, they might die.

//

Three hulking men close in around Kate. Not panicked. Trained. Precise. They form a wall, muscle and momentum, shoving her through narrow back corridors as bodies whizz past them. Their arms lock like titanium on either side of her, absorbing the disarray. Debris clatters past. Hoots pierce the air. Bent metal buckles under pressure.

Kate spins out of their grip.

“No! Yelena!”

She tries to double back. Thrashing. The sound around her has twisted into something monstrous. Sirens layered over shrieks layered over the endless thud of running feet and screaming radios.

And No Ellie. No Yelena.

Kate slips on mud or beer or blood. Her boots skid. Her hands scrape against a folding barricade. She barely registers the sting. Mostly because they keep her moving.

A hand grabs her. Wrenches her toward the access ramp. Kate fights it.

“YELENA!”

“We have to get you out!”

“WE HAVE TO FIND HER!”

Another blast rips through the air. Kate drops. Not from a direct impact…just the force of it. The wave alone is strong enough to knock her off her feet. Her knees slam into concrete. Heat washes over her back. Her vision whites out.

The world goes blurry. Hands drag her up again.

She can’t breathe. Can’t think. Her brain is a reel of carnage, her daughter’s face, and Yelena’s voice tangled in knots. Every new noise triggers a fresh horror she can’t shut off. Every second she doesn’t see them is a second they might be gone.

//

“At transpo in one. It better be there.” Yelena barks into comms.

Her earpiece shrieks, screeches interference. Yelena winces and yanks it out. It falls somewhere behind her. She doesn’t care.

Her world has narrowed to what’s in her arms. Her mission, her reason. Everything else is now outside the parameters of what’s relevant.

Bodies slam into each other around her. Someone gets trampled. Tents collapse. A booth is ablaze. This alley reeks of perspiration, panic, and definitely some vomit. A megaphone blares orders no one hears.

Then another blast. Not huge. But not far.

Yelena picks up speed. She adjusts Ellie with one arm, cuts left at the satellite tower. Vaults a half-fallen service fence. The baby’s hollering rises to a fever pitch. Hot, hysterical, primal.

Yelena forces her breath to stay even. Her grip to remain unshakeable.

Ellie’s cries break into hiccups. She curls into Yelena’s collarbone like she knows, deep in her bones, what matters. Mama will keep me safe.

Yelena barrels through a twisted platform. Boots skid across broken gear. She shoulders a lighting tech clean out of her path. Her thigh slams into a rolling case. Pain doesn’t register. Only velocity.

Checkpoint one: deserted. Checkpoint two: jammed. She scales the gate.

A man blocks her path.

“Back!” She screams in his face. Doesn’t wait. Doesn’t listen. Slams through him like a wrecking ball. He’s still staggering when she’s ten yards away.

One of her men appears near the trailer alley. Reaches for her. Tries to reroute her.

“No! Kate. Get her.” Yelena growls.

“You’re not…”

“GET. HER.”

He vanishes. That’s all she requires.

Ellie is trembling. Soaked. Screaming. But whole.

The third gate holds.

Her people are there. Her best. They recognize her in an instant. The barricade swings open. She tears through.

Ahead: The van. Running. Driver ready. Waiting, just like she ordered. She prepped it herself this morning. Stocked it with extra blankets, juice, backup chargers. Stuffies, diapers, a fresh change of clothes for Ellie. Packed with everything they could possibly need throughout the day. Anything except a single item that could undo this.

Yelena dives in like a warhead.

Hits the floor. Knees first. Breath ragged. But her hands don’t stop moving. One unclips the baby carrier, the other cradles Ellie’s head. Yelena’s lungs burn. Her whole body vibrates like a live wire.

“Drive. Now.”

“But Kate…”

“DRIVE.”

One of her guys jumps into the passenger seat. Locks the doors. The van jerks into motion.

Yelena pulls Ellie into her lap. Snot runs down her chin. Her little fingers latch to Yelena’s vest.

Sirens behind them. Dust in the rearview. Screams cutting through the steam. A thunderous clatter behind them…another detonation, or just something collapsing.

“Anyone have eyes on Kate?”

“Unconfirmed. Half the comms are down.”

Yelena kisses her daughter’s head. Whispers:

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

And under it all, something breaks loose. Not fear. Not wrath. Something bigger. She’s not just the weapon anymore. Not the bodyguard. Not just the soldier or the wife.

She’s this baby’s entire world. And everything else is secondary.

Nothing will ever matter more than this moment. Than this child. Than getting her out. And it means, without even realizing it, she let Kate go.

//

“Where is she? Where the fuck is my wife?!”

No one can answer.

Concrete slaps underfoot. Her boots whack hard. Her vision swims. She’s yelling. She thinks she’s yelling.

She can’t hear over the deafening rumble outside. Metal crashing. People screaming. Someone walks by, dazed, blood down their shirt.

Kate’s mind loops. Rewinds. Replays.

Yelena hated the idea from the start. Not the tour. Not her show. But THIS venue. This setup. The risk. The crowd size. The fragility of the infrastructure.

“Too many people. Too many variables.” Yelena had warned. And she was right.

Yelena said no. HARD NO. A dozen times. No to bringing Ellie. No to trusting the local contractors. No to half a dozen things Kate insisted would be fine.

Kate argued. Pushed. Pleaded. It’s just one more show in one more city. Ellie had been at every other stop, this one should be no different. The largest crowd. The capstone of her biggest tour yet. Ellie’s first full tour…why not this one?

And Yelena, despite every instinct screaming, made it work. She always does. She doubled the detail. Took on ops herself. She built redundancies on top of redundancies. Posted two agents to every side of the stage. Posted more in all four corners of the talent areas. She checked every barricade thrice, then again.

Yelena studied every inch of that venue. But she couldn’t have possibly planned for this.

Last time Kate remembers seeing her was during soundcheck. Ellie strapped to her, as usual. Sunglasses. Earpiece. Leading a security meeting just off the stage. A quiet command in her posture. All while gently caressing Ellie’s toes. Doing four things at once and still catching Kate’s smile across the stage.

Yelena smiled back. Tangible. Enduring. Untouchable.

Things got hectic after that. Press. Glam. Photos and videos for content. People hauling her in a million directions. She didn’t see them again. And now? Now she doesn’t know where they are.

For the first time since she held newborn Ellie thirteen months ago, Kate can’t feel her anywhere. Not a presence. Not a signal. Not a pull in her chest. She doesn't know if they’re gone. And that’s what’s killing her.

//

Yelena’s driver peels off from the artist lot, barreling toward the outer gates. Past the wreckage…splintered barricades, crumpled fencing, smoke rising over the floodlights. Away from the butchery. Away from the roar. Away from the woman Yelena would die for.

Yelena doesn’t look back.

She folds her body over Ellie, seals her in her arms, curls protectively around the carrier as the van hurtles through unpaved roads. The baby is slick with sweat, mouth open in a distraught cry.

Only once they clear the last choke point…three turns out, past the oncoming ambulances, past the barricaded entry, past the smoke still blooming…do Yelena’s hands start to flutter.

Only then does she realize what she’s done. Only then does the weight hit.

She left Kate behind.

She doesn’t know if Kate is alive. Doesn’t know if she’s hit. If the second blast got her. If she made it to cover. If the third was worse. Yelena just left. She picked Ellie. Made her the tactical priority.

She hadn’t hesitated. Not for a second. And now the remorse starts to crawl up her body. The shame. The unspeakable gravity of a decision made without pause. A decision she would make again.

That doesn’t make it easier.

Behind her, a black plume drowns the sky. Behind her, somewhere in the chaos, Kate.

“Exit’s blocked. Crowd’s jamming the east corridor.” The driver declares.

“Redirect. Freight route. Circle behind the staging lot.” Yelena’s voice cuts through. Steady. Cold.

“I don’t think it’s clear…”

“It will be.”

Then the final blast cracks across the sky. Far. But massive enough to rattle the van on its wheels. Ellie shrills, petrified.

Yelena yanks a fleece blanket from the emergency bag and wraps it over them both like armor. Her hand pinches Ellie’s head to her chest.

“Faster,” she orders the driver.

He obeys.

//

Bodies careen past Kate. The tunnels behind the stage are hell. Tech carts overturned. Lighting rigs half-collapsed. Cases shattered open. Makeup kits, cords, bottles skittering across concrete. Her mouth tastes like charred plastic.

Another blast rips through the far side of the venue. Fireballs explode behind scaffolding.

“I need my phone!” Kate’s voice shreds against the noise. “WHO HAS MY FUCKING PHONE?!”

They just keep pulling her. Shoulders. Arms. Waist. She doesn’t know who’s touching her anymore. Doesn’t care. Her legs are jiggling. Her throat stings.

“Where’s Yelena?!”

The tallest of the men plows a gear cart out of their way. Nothing will stop them from getting Kate out.

One of the men grabs a hoodie from a crate and shoves it into Kate’s arms. Could be to protect her. Could be that he simply thinks having anything to hang on to, anything more than skin could be tactically advantageous.

Kate doesn’t remember putting it on. Doesn’t remember zipping it. Her brain is still lit up with the lights. Her brain is still on that stage. Still enveloped in smoke. Still stuck in that half-second when she realized she couldn’t see her love. Or her baby.

She keeps moving anyway. Half-blind. Mouth open. Veins electrified. Because she has to find them.

“GET. ME. TO. HER.”

//

The van isn’t far. A mile. Maybe. The road is bedlam. Festival traffic, talent evacs, emergency convoys streaming in from every direction.

Yelena finally sinks into the seat.

Blanket still wrapped around them. Ellie’s whines haven’t let up. They’ve only changed. Sharper now. Rawer. Those horrid, wet, glottal sobs that twist in your gut. Her whole body is red. Tiny fingers claw at Yelena’s braid.

Yelena cups her cheeks. Presses a kiss to her sweaty temple.

“You’re okay,” she whispers in Russian. “You’re okay.”

Ellie coughs. Gasps. Cries harder.

Yelena rocks her. Tighter. Steadier. She starts to hum. A half-remembered Russian lullaby from a lifetime ago. Her hands don’t stop moving. Stroking Ellie’s back. Brushing hair from her cheeks. Mechanical. Automatic.

Her face doesn’t show panic. But it’s there. Crawling under her skin like a fever.

Once they clear the last checkpoint…once she’s sure they’re outside the blast radius…her mind drifts to Kate.

She sees her. Exactly as she was under the lights. Purple mic in hand. Hair a mess. Skin dewy with sweat and glitter. That smile still half-cocked mid-song. And then…Gone.

Yelena sees the exact second she turned away. The second she made the call. Didn’t run to her. Didn’t shield her. Didn’t scream her name.

Kate’s alive. She has to be.

//

The smoke thins the farther they get. But Kate still can’t breathe.

Her knees won’t stop faltering. Her skin feels wrong on her own body. Her voice is toast. All she can hear is the echo of Ellie’s laugh from earlier that day. Her lullaby toy in the greenroom. Her stuffed flamingo. The way Yelena looked in front of the mirror braiding her hair anew after Ellie had made a mess of it. The way Ellie always curled her fist in it, tight and sure.

Kate can’t stop seeing that. That hand. That face.

They shove her into a waiting SUV. Her assistant’s already inside, curled in the corner, mascara smudged, sobbing into her sleeve.

“Where is she?” Kate croaks. “Where the fuck is she? She has Ellie.”

The assistant shakes her head. Speechless. Can’t form the words.

“My phone. Do you have it?” Kate leans in. Grits her teeth.

A frantic nod. The assistant fumbles. Rifles through her bag. Produces it with quivering fingers.

Kate snatches it. Dials before the screen lights. Nothing.

She texts. Once. Twice. No reply.

She doesn’t know if they’re safe. Doesn’t know anything. Doesn’t know if she’ll ever hear their voices again.

Another bang breaks the silence. Not a bomb. Maybe scaffolding. Something collapsing. Metal. Hefty. Loud enough to send her flinching into the door.

Kate stares out the window. Blue strobes. People running in every direction. Sirens. A child sobbing in his father’s arms as they weave through an alley of toppled speakers. Kate’s chest fissures open.

Her assistant murmurs something about the press. About headlines. “Coordinated attack.” “Contagion of fear.” Twitter’s already losing its mind. Kate doesn’t hear it.

She rips her in-ears from her skull and hurls them into the footwell. Her pulse pounds like war drums.

The driver mutters about roadblocks. The men around her start listing alternate routes. Debating escape plans.

None of it matters. Kate stares at her phone like it owes her an answer.

“Stop worrying”, she’d told Yelena that morning. “It’ll be fine,” she insisted.

Kate wants to scream. She doesn’t. She dry-heaves into her hand instead. Then types.

pls say she’s ok say ur ok

Still. Nothing.

The fields blur outside her window. Fog. Lights. A cacophony of car alarms. The whole world roars past her.

Kate shuts her eyes. Tells herself not to cry. Fails.

//

Yelena looks down.

Ellie’s tiny body wracked with sobs. Snot and tears drench her face. Her little fingers clamp the blanket.

Then something inside Yelena snaps. A wire pulled too tight, finally severing. A guttural panic clawing up her esophagus.

She slams her fist against the back of the driver’s seat. Hard. Once. Twice.

“Stop.”

“Ma’am?”

“STOP THE FUCKING CAR.”

The brakes screech. Tires skid against dirt. The van lurches to a halt so hard Yelena’s shoulder slams the window. Ellie’s wail doesn’t pause.

Yelena yanks the door open. Climbs halfway out before her brain catches up with her body. In the motion, her phone slips out of her back pocket. Hits the floor. She doesn’t notice.

Yelena reaches into the passenger seat. Hands Ellie off to the man sitting there. No vacillation. No explanation.

He freezes, pales. The baby’s still shrieking.

“She’s…”

“Get her out.” Yelena’s voice is a knife.

The man stares at her, disconcerted. The baby kicks. Cries harder. Arms flailing, trying to grab hold of her mother’s braid.

“Mama!”

Yelena bites down on a sob. Presses a kiss to her forehead. Her hands linger on her daughter’s cheeks like a goodbye. Ellie screams. Reaches out for her.

“I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” Her voice almost breaks. Almost. She locks eyes with the driver. “Don’t stop for anything.” She turns to the man trying to keep Ellie in his grasp. “Lock the hotel down.”

Yelena slams the door before she can change her mind. She turns. Doesn’t dare look at the car.

Behind her: the van peels out. Ellie’s screams echo through the windows. Tiny hands banging the glass. Then she’s gone.

Yelena moves. Alone. Back into the fire. Back to the stage. Back to Kate.

//

The city is gridlocked. It smells like burnt plastic and death. Phones are jammed. Every call fails. Every text feels like screaming into a canyon.

It takes Kate over an hour to get to the hotel. She doesn’t wait for the car to stop. She throws the door open before the brake engages, soles hitting pavement like lightning.

Security swarms.

One on the sidewalk. Two in the lobby. Another meets her at the elevator. Ashen, silent. Just taps the keycard and steps aside.

The suite door is already cracked open.

Kate’s voice is deeper. Her throat scratchy. Her hands clammy. Her clothes stink of smoke and dread. Her socks are doused with sweat. Her pulse is a drumbeat she can’t slow down.

She steps inside…and stops breathing.

The room is full. Her people. The inner circle. The ones she built this machine with. Her choreographer. Her stylist. Her makeup artist. Her tour manager. The vocal coach who taught her how to keep singing through bronchitis. Every one of them there. And all of them are gathered around one small figure in the middle of the room.

Ellie.

Wrapped in a clean set of pajamas, damp curls tucked behind her ears. She’s sat on the couch. Face flushed. Hands balled in a stuffie’s fur. Eyes still bloodshot, but not crying anymore. Thanks to these people.

They surround Ellie. Try to distract her. Try to make her laugh.

Kate makes a sound she’s never made in her life. Not on stage. Not on set. Not in labor. A sound that’s closer to agony than breath.

She drops to her knees. Crawls the last two steps. Pulls Ellie into her lap like gravity demands it.

She sobs into her hair. Tears spilling mute and desperate. Kate holds her like she’ll evaporate if she doesn’t squeeze hard enough. Her body convulses. Her hands move like she’s dreaming. She rocks Ellie, clutches her too tight, murmuring nothings into her ear.

It takes several moments before Kate can lift her head. And when she does…she notes it. The glaring absence. The shape in the room that should be filled with a body, a voice, a presence she knows like her own.

Kate’s chest hollows.

“Where’s Yelena?” Silence. Everyone looks at each other. No one speaks. Kate’s voice sharpens. “Where is she?”

It’s her tour manager who finally answers. Quiet. Terrified.

“She’s not here.”

“What?” Kate doesn’t understand.

“She…she got out of the car. She went back. To the venue.”

“No.” Kate’s already standing. Ellie still in her arms. “No, no, no. What the fuck do you mean she went back?!”

“She just…”

“WHO LET HER GO BACK?!”

Her voice cracks the room in half. No one breathes.

“Kate, she…”

“You let her…”

Kate staggers. Knees almost give. Ellie jerks in her arms, startled by the movement. Someone reaches to steady her.

Kate shakes them off. She bends her face to Ellie’s again. Kisses her forehead. Once. Twice. Her fingers constrict the baby’s back.

“Find her.” she lowers her voice to a whisper.

No one says anything. Kate doesn’t repeat herself. She holds her daughter. Arms locked. Face pale. Shoulders shaking.

And she waits. Waits. Waits.

//

Yelena hits the ground running. Literally.

Boots slam into cracked asphalt as the van peels away behind her. The wind tastes like copper and crud. Dust clogs her throat. Sirens shriek in her ears. Her airway strangles. Her daughter’s screams still ring in her bones.

But she doesn’t look back. She moves toward the nightmare with a singular directive pounding in her chest: Get To Kate.

There’s no time to think about the baby she just handed off. No time to picture Ellie weeping the second the door slammed. No time to picture Kate’s face. No time for anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

Every instinct in her shouts to double back, to run after that vehicle, to grab her daughter and never let go. But her brain, what’s left of it, overrides everything. She’s not even sure Kate’s still at the venue. Not sure if she should go back. But she’s not leaving until she has confirmation.

She needs to have certainty that Kate is not back there. That her team got her out. If they made it. For all Yelena knows, every man could be injured. Dead. Maybe Kate’s alone. Maybe unconscious. Maybe fucking gone. She has to be sure.

She sprints all the way to the gated perimeter. Her legs don’t feel like her own. She’s running on instinct. On fury. On fear.

She cuts right across a row of toppled porta-potties. Slips through a shattered gate. Her body’s moving like it was trained to. But this isn’t combat instinct anymore. It’s primordial.

When she ducks under a barricade a white-hot stab of pain flares in her head. She reaches up. Her temple’s bleeding. She doesn’t remember that happening. Something must’ve hit her as she tried to get Ellie out. Unimportant.

Survivors spill out through broken fencing like water from a cracked pipe. The atmosphere reeks of fuel and panic. The smoke is worse now. Acrid and chemical. Her lungs seize on every breath. She powers through. Cuts across another one of the several exit routes she’d mindlessly rough sketched on a napkin.

She sees the blood first. Spreading across the pavement. Wet. Fresh. She follows it with her eyes and sees a man. Mid thirties. Pinned under a stack of sound equipment. Bleeding through torn denim. A woman sits beside him, shakes him, pleads in a language Yelena doesn’t speak.

Yelena keeps moving. One look at him and she knows there’s nothing she can do for him. Nothing anyone can.

Once she breaches the Talent Only zone she starts yelling.

“KATE!…KATE!”

Yelena’s eyes land on the trailer with Kate’s name on it. She dashes over. Bursts inside.

It’s intact. Just as she remembers seeing it last. Kate’s favorite purse. The yellow dinosaur plushie Ellie adores. The comfy outfit Kate had planned to change into post-show still hangs from the hook. It’s all untouched. Kate never made it back here.

Yelena’s stomach drops. Her eyes scan the room. She hastily grabs Kate’s bag, chucks the dinosaur into it, and runs back out.

“KATE!”

Yelena pivots, scanning in all directions. Deciding where to go next.

People cry. Bodies drag. Fire flickers in the distance.

Then…a scream. Puny. Hysterical.

A child. Ten, maybe. Red streaks across her head and face. One arm dangling off, only stuck to her by a few bits of skin. She’s curled into herself, knees tucked to her torso. Alone. She’s wearing Kate’s merch. Now dirty and ripped. But Kate’s name is unmistakeably stamped across her chest nonetheless.

Yelena doesn’t dither. She rushes in, crouches in front of her. Loops the kid’s good arm over her own neck.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”

The girl responds in another language. One Yelena doesn’t recognize. Portuguese, maybe? Just words Yelena doesn’t know. Doesn’t need to. She lifts the child anyway then moves. With urgency. The girl howls when her body shifts. Her shoulder’s wrecked. Yelena’s own shoulder pulls with the weight, but she doesn’t spare the pain a thought.

She double-times to the nearest gate. Medics and ambulances have started to line up just past it. Two paramedics are about to sprint past her. Yelena intercepts them mid-stride, hands the girl off wordlessly. Nods once.

They shout something behind her. Thanks, perhaps. She doesn’t stay to hear it.

Yelena goes back into the wreckage. Toward the stage. That’s where she last saw Kate.

She maneuvers around busted vendor carts, smashed bottles, and crushed signage. Cups, cans, and bags crunch underfoot.

The haze thickens, pickles her eyes. Visibility drops. Her eardrums continue to buzz from the blasts.

She hops over a torn fence and slips when she lands on the other side. Her boots slide in mud and something else. A red river cuts through the dirt, a liquid her brain refuses to name. Something inside her cracks. She shoves it down. Not now.

Yelena claws past collapsed fencing and stumbles straight into hell.

Bodies everywhere. Some running. Some falling. Some still pushing with shock-wired panic. But too many not moving at all. Motionless. Limbs bent unnaturally. Eyes wide. Lungs emptied in the middle of a scream that never finished.

It’s a dream gone rancid. The festival was frozen mid-beat and stripped of its color.

They came here for music. For elation. For communion. One second, they were alive…sweaty and sun-drenched, drunk on song. The next, they were scattered chunks on a field.

The closer she gets to the stage, the worse it is.

Yelena has seen carnage. She's seen war. Crossfire. Blood in snow. In sand. In grass. In water. But every corpse she'd ever stepped over wore a uniform. Every person she watched die had accepted risk. Had chosen it. No one here signed up for this.

None of them were supposed to end up here. This way. Their only mission was a good time. Some pictures for their social media. A beat that reverberated in their bones. That’s all they wanted. And now they’ll never want a thing again.

Yelena moves through the stillness like a specter. She’s not alone. There are people everywhere. Moaning. Bleeding. Wailing. But somehow, the silence is louder.

The smoke parts…and she’s suddenly there. Right in front of the stage. Ground zero. Metal is mangled. The floor is a minefield of overturned trash cans, blown cables, and leaking glowsticks. Steam curls off near every surface. There’s a crater to the left, and fire further back.

And there…beneath a twisted section of lighting rig…long, dark hair. Attached to a head, half-buried beneath a tangle of debris. Covered in blood.

The face is turned away…but Yelena knows that hair. That exact shade. That texture. She's seen it wet from the shower, tangled in her fingers, fanned out over a pillow in the early hours of morning, haloed in stage lights and washed in moonlight. She’s kissed the crown of that head a thousand times. She knows the weight of it against her chest.

No. No no no…

She launches forward. Every atom in her body revolting. Denying. Screaming.

She vaults over a fallen speaker. Drops to her knees. Hauls bodies aside. One. Then another. Rips a collapsed banner out of the way. Her shoulder smashes into concrete. She doesn’t feel it. Her voice tears out of her throat before she can stop it…a sound that isn’t words, only agony.

She reaches for the woman. Her skin is starting to lose heat. It feels foreign under Yelena’s touch. Fingers brush blood-soaked fabric. A hand is still gripping a phone, screen now cracked.

Yelena turns the head.

It’s not Kate.

It’s not Kate.

It’s not Kate.

But it could’ve been.

The girl’s young. Pale. Her face slack. A smear of soot across her jaw. Hair now soaked and matted. It’s parted the same way Kate’s is. The same freckle on her jaw. Her shirt's torn, and there’s a gash across her ribs that’ll never scab over.

Yelena rocks back like she’s been shot. She presses her palm to her chest…like maybe that’ll keep her ribs from splitting apart.

She doesn’t cry. There’s no time. But she feels it. The collapse.

For a moment…just one, wretched instant…she thought that was it. That this field of misery and heat and crimson was where she’d feel that type of loss again. That she’d find the woman she loves face-down. Alone. Dead. A second time.

Yelena bites it back. Swallows the scream.

It’s not Kate. It’s not her Kate. But it’s someone’s. And that’s almost worse.

Someone out there is going to get a call. Or…they won’t. Not for hours. Not until the chaos calms and the lists get made. Someone’s going to sit clutching a phone that never rings. Someone’s going to scream into a hallway when they see a police badge. Someone’s going to ask if their girl was out there all alone.

And they won’t know she wasn’t.

Yelena crouches beside the body for a single breath. Just one. Her hand quivers as she brushes the girl’s hair back from her face. It’s a reflex. Gentle.

“I’m sorry.”

Then Yelena exhales. Stands. And keeps going. Keeps moving down the edge of the stage.

“KATE!”

A deafening pocket of silence. No one around her answers. No one asks for help. No one needs it.

Yelena makes it another twenty feet before she hears anything besides distant sirens and first responders shouting.

A young man. Early twenties, maybe younger. Hard to tell through the abrasions on his face. His leg is pinned under a steel divider. Shrapnel jutting from his thigh. His whole lower body is pulp, bone showing. A friend kneels beside him, just as young, sobbing in Spanish. Yelena’s brain auto-translates.

Please. The boy cries over and over.

Yelena hesitates. Looks toward the stage. Almost leaves. Almost keeps searching.

Fuck.

She darts over, drops to her knees, and slips both hands beneath the metal edge. She grits her teeth. Lifts. Her back strains. Her knuckles split open. But she doesn’t stop.

Once the scrawny friend helps her lift with his one good arm, the metal shifts. She yanks the boy free. The dark stain on his jeans instantly explodes in size.

Yelena slaps both palms to the artery in his thigh. Direct pressure. The boy screams. The friend panics, grabs her arm.

“Help me or move,” she snaps.

He helps.

Yelena directs her gaze to the friend’s belt, points to it with her head. The friend understands. He rips it off. Yelena cinches it around the upper thigh. The torniquet slows the bleeding. Barely. She grabs a splinter of scaffold, slides it through a discarded jacket sleeve, and makes a splint. Crude, but enough.

She reaches into her back pocket. For the phone that’s supposed to be there. It’s empty. SHIT. Yelena looks around. She has no idea where it could’ve fallen out.

She assesses. Looks at the boy. At the friend.

“He can’t stay here.”

The friend says something in Spanish. Yelena has no clue what it is but one look at him, at his own bleeding arm, she knows that kid is not taking this boy anywhere.

She hoists him herself. One arm under knees, one behind his shoulders. He’s much taller. Bigger in every way. The adrenaline coursing through her compensates for the difference. Her leg seizes. She’s aware every inch of her body is going to hurt for days. Right now, that feels irrelevant.

She carries him past blazing tents, past downed lights, and a burning merch booth to a makeshift triage zone taking shape. EMTs try to stabilize the injured on plastic tables. Yelena hands him off. She’s moving again before they can thank her.

She scans every stretcher. Every body. Every white brunette being hauled into a transport. Hope flares every time. Dies each time.

Still no Kate.

Yelena doubles back toward the stage. If Kate’s going to be anywhere it’ll be there.

While scanning the rest of the stage area she doesn’t find Kate…but she finds one of her own. One she’d assigned to stage right. His arm…his entire right side blown off. He’s slumped. Still. Already gone.

Yelena kneels. Quiet. Takes a moment to pay her respects. After a beat of silence she speaks.

“Thank you for your service, Captain.”

She stands. Salutes at him. Keeps moving.

“KATE!” She screams while climbing the scaffolding of a dead camera tower. Half-burnt. Rattling in the wind. “KATE!”

Yelena sees everything from up here. The carnage. The stage. The exits. Nothing.

No Kate in the trailers. Not in triage. Not out here. She would’ve found her.

They got her out. Her team did their job. She’s not here.

Yelena sags against the rail, chokes on air. A whimper rips from her chest. Half sob, half war cry. The kind of release that never really lands. At that point, the adrenaline starts to ebb.

Yelena takes a moment to decide what to do next. No phone. Her wallet’s in her bag. Her bag is…somewhere here. She looks down at Kate’s purse. Now smeared with blood. Digs through it. No phone. And Kate keeps all her cards in her phone case.

No phone. No wallet. No money.

Walk back it is.

And so the walk begins.

The farther she gets from the stage, the fewer people there are. The deeper the silence becomes. The crowd thins. The chaos dulls. The debris shifts. Less blood now. More trash. Empty water bottles. Shattered phones. A single sneaker. Nothing moves.

The walk is long. Longer than she realized. And dead fucking quiet.

All she hears is her breath. Her boots. Her body coming undone by degrees.

The smoke drowns the vivid sunset. The sky, once violet and gold, is now just bruise-colored haze. Her tongue tastes like metal and ash. Her shirt’s soaked through. Sweat clings to her spine. Blood crusts her palms. Her socks are damp. Nails split. A raw line of someone else’s blood has dried in the crook of her arm. Her head is still bleeding. She can feel it now…warm, slow.

Her skin crawls. Her chest cracks. Her body aches everywhere, in ways she hasn’t catalogued yet. But none of it really lands. The pain hasn’t found her nerves. Not yet. Not while she’s still moving. Because if she stops, she’ll fall. And if she falls, she might not get back up.

It takes over twenty minutes just to get out of the festival grounds. Just to reach the access road. Twenty minutes of broken soil and scorched earth and oxygen too thick to breathe. She hadn’t realized how far she’d run…how far the stage was from the van where she left her daughter…until the adrenaline drained out of her bloodstream.

Her gait’s uneven now. She’s limping. Her ankle’s screaming. Probably sprained. Definitely at least tweaked it. But the pain’s not real yet. The rhythm’s all that matters. One step. Then another. Then another.

The walk is the only thing keeping her upright. The forward motion. The sheer fucking refusal to go down. No crying. No thinking. Just steps.

Cars fly past. Sirens howl. Blue light. Red light. No one stops.

She keeps going. One foot. Then the next. Until a pair of headlights slice across her path. Brakes lock. Gravel crunches. A battered hatchback skids to a stop. Reverses. Stickers litter the bumper. Dust clouds in its wake. The passenger window rolls down.

“Yelena?!”

The voice is young, tentative. Accented. Stunned. A guy, twenties at most. Festival bracelet still on. Kate’s face across his chest. White-knuckled hands locked at ten and two.

Yelena stops. Doesn’t even turn her head fully.

“Holy shit. Are you okay? Do you…do you need a ride?” His English is clean enough but his voice keeps splintering. She doesn’t answer. “We’ll take you anywhere.”

“Please,” the girl in the passenger seat says, softer. She’s got glitter lined across her cheeks and a hand-painted, bedazzled shirt that reads: ‘Can Yelena Fight?’.

Under any other circumstance, Yelena might’ve cracked a smile. Right now? She’s too wrecked to feel anything at all.

Yelena doesn’t remember nodding. But she must’ve. Because the kid flings open the back door, dives forward to clear a space…to move papers, clothes, crushed Red Bulls out of her way. He barely looks at her as she slides in to a car that smells like spilled soda.

She says nothing. Just stares out the window.

The guy offers a water bottle. She doesn’t even glance at it.

The fans try not to stare. They fail. Their eyes dart to her and back again. Stunned into reverence.

Outside, the city pulses by in streaks of light. Horns. Press vans. Somewhere, a helicopter hovers. It would seem like the whole world is on fire.

Yelena stares at her hands. Raw. Split. Swollen. Her knuckles already darkening. A line of dried blood runs from the heel of her palm to her wrist. Not hers.

They hit the outer checkpoint. And the police barricade parts. Like someone inside already knew she was coming.

The drive back should’ve been forty minutes. It takes over an hour. By the time the hotel emerges…glass and stone, lit up like a fortress…Yelena’s vibrating with exhaustion. Her body trembles in deep, unsteady waves.

The driver slows. Pulls into the rotunda. Doesn’t speak. Yelena doesn’t thank them. She simply nods and gets out.

A couple of her men are at the door in plain clothes. One glance is all it takes. She knows. Kate’s here. She made it back. Yelena doesn’t know what state she’s in…physically, emotionally…but she’s here. And that’s enough.

One of the men opens the main door. She walks through it.

More of her people in plain clothes line the lobby. Embedded. Inconspicuous. Ready. This building might be the safest place in Spain right now, and still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

She approaches the closest one.

“Simmons.” Her voice is sandpaper. She shakes her head. Enough said. “Stage right. Get him. Deliver the news in person. Tell the family we’ll take care of everything.” She turns, then pauses. Her voice cuts sharper. Lower. “Make sure everyone else is accounted for. All of them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods and keys his mic. Two other agents rise from the bar in unison. Speedwalk to the exit.

Yelena makes for the private elevator that leads to the penthouse suite.

The guards stationed there don’t ask for her name. Don’t ask for a keycard. They see her face…blood-streaked, ash-dusted, cut and clenching…and they move.

One swipes her in. Another radios the top floor: incoming.

Yelena steps inside. And the doors close.

//

Three hours.

Kate’s been trapped in the suite like a caged animal for three fucking hours. Pacing. Spiraling. Unraveling one atom at a time.

She kicked everyone out about an hour after she got back. They were hovering. Whispering. Getting on her nerves. The one person she needed wasn’t there…so she didn’t want anyone.

Ellie is asleep in her arms now. Finally.

Exhausted from screaming herself hoarse. Her tiny fingers are knotted in the fur of her stuffed fox, the other dig into Kate so tight it leaves deep crescent-shaped dents in her skin. Her breaths are uneven. Hiccuped. Even asleep, she’s tense.

Kate hasn’t set her down. Not once. Not for a moment. Her arms are numb. Her legs ache. Her neck burns from holding this much tension. But she keeps moving and singing to her. Because this baby in her arms is the only thing keeping her from halving open.

She paces the suite in slow, broken loops. Barefoot. Tangled hair. Smoke still in her lungs. Her spine is a live wire. Her hands are wobbly. She can’t stop grinding her teeth.

Under the panic? There’s just…void. That quiet, breathless kind of hollow. A kind that that scrapes at her ribs and keeps whispering: you don’t know if she’s alive.

Security has blanketed the entire floor. Yelena’s people tripled the hotel team within the first hour. They pulled from every client they had in Europe. No one protested. Wouldn’t have mattered if they had. Every agent in that company knows the truth: Yelena’s family is the priority. Kate is the reason the whole operation exists. Any other client is merely background noise.

A blacked-out car waits outside the lobby at all times. Engine running. Driver ready.

Inside, the building is a fortress.

Eight men on the perimeter. Four guards posted on each corner of the floor. Two flank the suite door. Two at the elevator. Another in the stairwell. The rest scattered in a protective orbit.

Every single person who comes within ten feet of Kate and Ellie has been handpicked by Yelena. Vetted. Trained. Hardened by years of service and loyalty. And right now? Every one of them is useless. Because the one person they answer to…the one person who built this entire wall of protection…hasn’t come home yet.

None of them are her. So none of them matter to Kate.

Kate’s phone won’t stop vibrating.

Melina. Her agent. Her publicist. The label. Crisis managers. Everyone wants a statement. Everyone wants to manage the narrative.

But Kate? She just wants one message.

One call. One word. From her. Still nothing.

Until…the lock clicks.

Kate whips around. And the world fucking stops. There she is.

Yelena stands in the doorway.

Blood crusted on her knuckles. Grime smeared on her cheekbones. Shirt torn. Forehead bleeding. More redness streaked up her sleeves, crusted at her collar…some hers, most not. Her braid half-undone. Eyes wide. Stunned. Alive. Mostly.

Yelena doesn’t say a word. She just stands there. Chest heaving. One fist still firmly holding the now bloodstained straps of Kate’s favorite Birkin.

Kate doesn’t move. Not at first. And then the dam breaks. Something in both of them snaps at once.

Kate crosses the room in five desperate steps. Yelena meets her halfway. They collide. Hard.

Kate slams into her chest. One arm around her neck, the other still clutching Ellie…now squished between them. The force of Kate’s impact knocks them both into the wall. It’s not graceful. It’s not cinematic. It’s raw. Messy. Real.

Neither of them let go.

Kate buries her face in Yelena’s nape and sobs. Broken. Guttural. A sound torn from someplace deep. Her mouth finds Yelena’s temple. Her shoulder. Her jaw. She kisses anywhere she can reach. By now, Kate’s shaking so hard she nearly drops to her knees.

“You left.”

“I had to.”

“I thought you…”

“I couldn’t…”

They talk over each other. Words ragged. Desperate. Smashed together in panic and relief and need.

“She was strapped to me. I had to get her out.” Yelena manages to gasp out.

“I know,” Kate chokes. “I know, I just…”

Her fingers claw at the back of Yelena’s shirt. Like anchoring herself there might keep the rest of her from disintegrating.

“I went back,” Yelena voice breaks. “I went back to find you.”

That’s it. That’s all Kate needed to hear. She yanks her closer. Their foreheads press. They stay like that…wrapped around each other, their breaths tangled.

Until Ellie squirms, protesting being sandwiched with such force. Now awake, she lets out a low whimper. Her little arms reach out instinctively. Needy.

Kate shifts her weight. Readjusts her in the space between them. All three of them locked together. Their baby. Their blood. The only thing that matters.

Yelena presses a kiss to the crown of Ellie’s head. Then Kate’s arm. Her lips linger longer on Kate’s skin. Still trembling. Still buzzing with unprocessed grief.

Yelena sets the purse down on the desk by the door. Forces a smile.

“It’s…a little banged up, but…”

She tries levity. It doesn’t land. Her voice cracks. She wraps her arms around herself, like she’s trying to stop her insides from busting at the seams.

Kate takes her in. Can read her without Yelena saying a word.

“You did the right thing.”

Yelena doesn’t respond.

Kate steps closer, reaches out. Fingers ghost over the frayed braid. Smoothing it. Then she touches Yelena’s cheek.

“It was the right thing,” Kate says again. Quiet now. “You made the right call. I would’ve made the same one.”

That’s what undoes Yelena. Not the guilt. Not the blood. Not even the fear.

The forgiveness. The grace. The understanding. Yelena deflates. Like something just gave out. Her whole body jerks. Her shoulders crumple. And then she finally lets herself cry.

“I left you. I’m sorry. I left.” she whispers

Kate cups her jaw. Her touch never wavers. Soothing. Anchoring. Gentle.

“You were supposed to. She was with you.”

“I didn’t know if you…if you were…”

“I know, baby” Kate reassures her. “I know.” And she does.

Yelena’s knees buckle. Her hands jitter. She clutches at Kate like she’ll vanish.

Kate kisses her. Everywhere. Her cheek. Her forehead. Her lips. Every inch she can reach.

“You got her out,” Kate whispers into her hair. “You did your job. You kept her safe… Thank you.”

Yelena doesn’t say you’re welcome. She only sobs. Into Kate’s arms. On the hotel floor.

Ellie curled between them like a tether.

They’re alive. They’re together. But nothing about this will ever leave them. Not entirely.

[prestopresto07]

Never known Peace | 3

MCD x Fem!reader | Angsty | This happens after ep 100 when shadow knights are more prevalent and Laurence is more emo. This is intended to be Lurence x reader but I'm thinking about doing multiple endings or something. I'm just seeing where this fanfic goes. Also sorry you're right-handed. Also, I'm dyslexic so if you see any spelling errors no you don't.

You were never a knight—just a mercenary, paid to escort someone into the Nether. But instead of protecting them, you were the one betrayed, left for dead in the depths of that hellish realm. And you did die… or at least, you think you did.

Now, you're something else. A Shadow Knight.

Transformed, confused, and afraid, you barely escape with the help of a stranger named Vlyad. But the world beyond the portal is no safer. You don’t know where you are, how you survived, or what you've become. All you know is that you're running—and the fear hasn’t left your bones.

Part 1 | Part 2

The ground is cold beneath you, damp grass soaking through your torn clothes. Every inch of your body aches, but moving feels impossible. You barely have the strength to sit upright, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

Then a rough hand clamps around your arm.

Pain flares, white-hot, and blinding. You can’t stop the sharp cry that escapes your lips as your body instinctively recoils.

Aaron lets go immediately—more out of startled reflex than guilt.

“Seriously Aaron?” The woman’s voice cuts through the air, sharp as a blade.

Aaron doesn’t answer, but you can feel the tension between them, heavy and unspoken.

She steps forward, lowering herself to your level. Amber eyes meet yours—calculating, assessing, but not unkind.

“She’s bleeding out,” she states. “If you want answers, maybe don’t tear her apart first.”

The man in green exhales, running a hand through his hair.

Your vision sways, the exhaustion clawing at you again. The woman is still watching you, waiting for something. Maybe for you to speak, maybe for you to just stay awake.

You try to hold on. Try to push through.

But the moment slips.

And the world fades.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Heat.

The same blistering—no, sweltering heat from before.

It clings to your skin, suffocating. Sweat beads on your forehead, sliding down your face, pooling beneath your armor. The air is thick. Choking.

You’re walking. No, you’re following.

A figure ahead, glowing—too bright against the Nether’s crimson haze. Their silhouette flickers, shifting between something familiar and something wrong.

Your feet won’t stop moving.

The jagged terrain of the Nether burns through your boots, the heat licking at your soles. The air ripples around you like a mirage, but the voice—that voice—is sharp. Clear.

A siren’s call, laced with honey and poison.

"This way."

You obey.

The uneven Netherack shifts beneath you, dark red giving way to something else. Bricks. Smooth. Man-made. A path.

You know what’s ahead before you even lift your gaze.

A fortress.

Massive. Consuming. Endless.

It stretches beyond your vision, black stone swallowing the sickly glow of the Nether. It shouldn't be this big. It shouldn't feel this wrong.

But the voice calls again.

And you follow.

Something all too familiar comes into view.

A room—no, the room.

Where your heart stopped beating. Where you fought, bled, begged to live. Where your soul, your identity—everything that made you, you—was ripped away.

The realization crashes into you.

You died here.

And yet, you stand.

There it is again.

The voice.

No—her laugh.

Sharp. Piercing. A cackle that drips with cruelty.

It echoes, bouncing off the walls, weaving into your bones.

The same sound you heard before it all went dark. Before your body burned. Before you became this.

The air whips around you—scorching, suffocating.

You squeeze your eyes shut. The only thing you can control.

Then—silence.

The searing winds vanish, the sounds of the Nether ripped away, leaving only the relentless ringing in your ears.

And then—a presence.

Close. Too close.

You feel her breath ghosting over your skin, her hands curling around your shoulders with a touch too familiar.

Like an estranged relative, greeting you after years apart.

Then, softly, sweetly, she whispers—

"You will be the death of them."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 4

A/N: Heyyy to the two people reading this, I know this chapter is short but at least I'm motivated!!! I hope you like it!!

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober Day 3

wrongfully arrested | "I warned you" / Favorite Scent

They didn't know how they'd gotten here.

It had all been a mistake. Just someone in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Was this an error, somehow? Had they slipped through the cracks of some system, or was this a possible case of mistaken identity?

Right now, it didn't matter. No one was coming to save them. They couldn't call for help, because their phone had been kicked across the floor by their captor.

"Yuu," that very captor grumbled.

What was his intention? To rip them to shreds, devour them whole? To hold them hostage, and random them off? Yuu didn't have anything valuable, any it's not like they were worth much.

"Yuu," that rich voice rumbled again.

They didn't even know if the best move was to fight back, or let their captor have their way with them. Which move would give them the best chance at-

"Yuu."

They jumped a bit in the arms of their kidnapper.

"What?" they bit back.

"What are you thinking about?" he grumbled, straight into their neck. Malleus's breath tickled the hair on their neck.

"Oh, I was just monologing to myself," said Yuu.

Ok, maybe they did have some clue of how they'd ended up here.

Not very many, though. All they'd gotten a few days ago, aside from stood up, was a cryptic text message telling them he wasn't showing up to their usual walk tonight, and not to come by.

Yuu hadn't taken that lying down, and had insisted on having some sort of face-to-face conversation, which had caused them to head to Diasomnia.

They'd believed him to be running from their budding connection, and that had made Yuu awfully upset.

Yuu had already freaked out about it on their own, with their friends. Malleus wasn't allowed to freak out now.

Speaking of their friends, their phone rang, and Malleus gave off an unhappy groan.

"Let me grab my phone. No one ever calls me unless they're dying, or they think I'm dying."

"I warned you," he mumbled, yanking them back quite harshly.

He did. He said not to come by.

Apparently, he'd been hit with some sort of magnetism spell, and needed constant touch. He, and the rest of Diasomnia, knew he'd want Yuu first, so he'd told them not to swing by so as to not create any trouble while the spell worked its way out of his body.

When his dormmates wouldn't let Yuu see him, or even let them wait in the common area, Yuu... may have taken it more than a little personally.

Maybe they'd stomped away, and walked the perimeter of the dorm with Goodram, one of the few beastmen in Diasomnia, heckling them as they tried to look for the third year floor and then for Malleus's window.

It was almost surprising to see how much Diasomina had rallied around their dorm leader, but it also warmed Yuu's heart. They knew Malleus had expressed a lot of insecurity at his role, feeling a distance between him and his perceived subordinates, but at least Yuu knew they were for sure loyal.

Anyways, after calling for Malleus a few times, he'd ended up poking his head out of his window, and Yuu had gotten a glimpse at him. The next moment, they'd been in his room, snuggled up with him in bed, and then Malleus had explained the whole potion thing.

"C'mon," whined Yuu. "The sooner I answer, the sooner it goes quiet. Just let me let them know I live."

Malleus groaned, but summoned the phone in his hands and practically threw it into Yuu's hands. They picked up.

"Hello?" they said.

"Yuu! Are you ok? What's wrong?" It was Ace's panicked voice.

"Oh, I'm all good now! Thanks for checking in," they quickly replied.

"Yuu." They thought that tone was trouble. "You said you were arrested."

"Well," they said, "I was being detained."

"Ugh. Whatever. Call me back later."

"Bye," they said, "and I really am glad you called."

Ace didn't say anything before the phone clicked, but Yuu could basically hear his sideways smile.

"Mmmmm," said Malleus. "Finally. You know, your intoxicating scent drives me to madness."

"Yeah," said Yuu, as Malleus started nuzzling at him. "I can tell."

[gmariam321]

Well, here is the beginning of my first Merlin fic, I believe. A one-shot moving on from the moment Merlin sends Arthur to Avalon. It will probably change somewhat as I continue to work on the rest, but here is the opening as it stands. Apologies for any stupid errors, it's been a while since I've written anything, and this is my first of this fandom. I'm excited to see this through, and perhaps even start the story that follows it. Thanks for reading!

The water laps gently against the shore, calm counterpoint to his rage and grief. Merlin stands still as stone, watching as the boat bearing the other half of his soul sails into the fog, toward the final resting place of the Once and Future King. The ripples in the water carry his friend, his king, away to whatever fate awaits him next, while Merlin is left behind, alone with his anguish.

Because he has failed.

Camelot’s dream of peace and prosperity under Arthur’s golden reign will never come to be. He has failed his king, his people, his destiny. He left Arthur unprotected to save him, and it was a mortal mistake. Arthur is dead by Mordred’s hand, just as prophecy had foretold. And it is Merlin’s fault.

How many times could he have stopped this future from happening? How long had he carried this secret in his heart, this doom, and failed to do the right thing to stop it? He had been  too trusting, too loyal, unwilling and unable to hurt his friends even when he knew what needed to be done. He, Merlin, had allowed Mordred to live, to become a knight, to leave Camelot and betray them all. He, Emrys, had known and watched and failed. He was Arthur’s bane, not Mordred.

With a shout that rips his throat raw, Merlin pours his fury into the water, raising it from the lake to shatter as a storm around him. His cry echoes across the land, and still he shouts, and screams, and brings forth the water, the air, and soon the very trees around him. A whirling vortex of agony surrounds him, and he stands at the center, letting his failure consume him. What else is there for him? He should be with Arthur, and as Arthur is dead, so too should he.

The thought shocks him out of his self-destruction, and he collapses to the ground, boneless and empty. Water crashes into the lake, trees unbend around him. An eerie calm descends upon the land, and through the faint mist, Merlin sees the boat rest ashore, miraculously safe from his tempest. He almost imagines that he sees Arthur stepping from the bow, a gloved hand waving farewell, but when he wipes his eyes, there is nothing. Even the boat is gone.

Arthur is dead, and Merlin has failed.

The weight of his destiny breaks him then, and he loses consciousness, giving in to the bleak darkness of despair.

* * *

When Merlin awakes, the sky is dark, and the air is cold. The wet ground has soaked him through, and he is shivering. Uncaring, he sits up and stares across the water, though what he hopes to see, he does not know. There is only blackness, accompanied by the soft susurration of the lake breathing around him.

It’s moments like these when he would expect to hear Arthur’s voice, berating him to wake up, start moving, get to work. He is awake, though it is a waking nightmare. Why does he need to move? What chore is there to do now? His life’s work is over, his destiny destroyed by one thrust of a blade. Merlin gazes blankly at the Lake of Avalon, then closes his eyes and lays down once more.

This time, he murmurs a warming spell before he gives in to the dark. In spite of it all, he is not prepared to die.

* * *

When he awakes again, the sun has not only risen, but crossed half the sky. Merlin lays on the ground and stares upward, grey clouds mirroring his bleak mood. He remains that way until dark, his mind curiously blank, his body strangely numb. The warming spell is still set, keeping him alive, but he feels nothing. Sees nothing. Hears nothing, expect his own conscience berating him for failure. And soon even that quiets, and he is nothing.

* * *

The third time he awakes as he jerks out of a nightmare—or a memory. The Battle of Camlann, bodies covering a field soaked with blood. Morgana, blasted back; Aithusa, sent away; Mordred, dead next to a dying Arthur.  Merlin races to save him and the knights search loyally for their king, while Gwen weeps from the castle walls with Gaius as Gwaine watches silently, sadly, from behind them. Which is when Merlin knows Gwaine is dead, too.

Gwaine. Arthur. Morgana and Mordred.

Lancelot. His father. Arthur’s father. Freya.

So many lost, when Arthur’s reign was to have brought peace to Albion, not death and destruction. He was supposed to help bring that about, Merlin – it was his one and only job, to protect Arthur for the love of Camelot. And Merlin loved Camelot. He loved Arthur, and Gwaine, and so many others, all dead. He had tried, so very hard.

Finally, Merlin weeps. He weeps for Arthur, and all those lost on the field. For all those who have lost someone, for Gwen and Gaius, for Percival and Leon. He weeps for a kingdom, and he weeps for himself—for a destiny lost, and an immortal life alone.

And then he stands. He wipes his face, burying his pain and grief away deep where it cannot hurt him anymore. Eyes closed, he takes a deep breath, then another, and with the third comes clarity and purpose. Perhaps not destiny, but a way forward.

He cannot go back, will not go back—-but he can make sure that Camelot is safe before he moves on.

* * *

[mildlybizarrecorvid]

I am much obliged, here they be;

Moray eels are heavily credited with inspiring the Xenomorph from alien, as they have a pharyngeal jaw used for grabbing onto any prey they get a hold of and dragging it down into its throat! It's a secondary set of teeth that sits in the back of their throat, and connects on a sort of hinge.

The largest moray eel on record was 12'11 ft (3.94 metres) in length, so roughly the same as two tall men laying down head to toe

And in green morays, they are actually not green but brown. The green colouration comes from a slimy, yellow mucus secreted from their skin to protect them. I've heard it is poisonous but I may be misremembering lol

Leopard seals are super cool too. Their teeth are three-pronged, which not only serves for keeping a good hold of their prey to rip chunks of meat off (as they can't chew like other mammals), but also works to sieve out water for smaller prey like krill! Basically a built-in strainer :)

Their scientific name, Hydrurga Leptonyx, directly translates to "slender-clawed water-worker".

While they're super fast in the water, leopard seals are painfully slow on land. This is because they're a part of the phocidae family of pinnipeds, aka "earless seals", and have far less developed flippers compared to otariidae (aka "eared seals")— which consists of sea lions and fur seals. Because of this, they have to use their whole body to move on land, making them look kind of like inchworms lmao

They also vocalise in a unique way. They give sort of warning "pops", which are these thudding/booming noises they create by opening and closing the back of their throat. They do this to ward off threats, which mainly just consist of other leopard seals (and the occasional human). They do also make a series of trilling and snorting noises when communicating with other leopard seals, though they aren't very social animals so it doesn't happen often !!

I hope you enjoy this barrage of facts lol, it's 1 am so I apologise if there are spelling errors or weird phrasing lmao ‼️‼️‼️

Ooh, thank you greatly, these are amazing!

I would've never guessed eels could be so big!

And I never knew much about how pinnipeds are related or differentiated

[gh-0-st-king]

Part 1 (Here) Part 2

EDIT: I fixed some spelling/grammar errors and added some things to a couple areas.

TW: Injury, hospitals, surgery mentions

——————————————

"Four chimes. Max."

Nancy had barely finished speaking before Steve was out the door of the Creel house, sprinting back the way they came. He wove through the forest on muscle memory alone, a resurgence of adrenaline fueling his exhausted, wounded body.

The pain and lightheadedness faded away under the constant stream of Max Max Max because that's his kid. His kid, who he let get put in danger. His kid, who he wasn't there to protect, and she has to be okay. She has to be.

Because they had plans for a concert in summer that he had spent months saving up for just for her. And she has to be okay, because if she isn't, he doesn't know what he'll do with himself. He doesn't know how he could possibly live without one of his kids. Without Max. Without his little sister. Without Max.

The sound of loud, gut wrenching, sobs and screams cut through his thoughts, and he stuttered to a stop. Dustin. He bolted in the direction of the sound, absent-mindedly stepping over the demobats littering the ground, motionless.

In the center of the bats, sat Dustin, hunched over a motionless form, his shoulders shaking with the sobs that were much louder now that he was closer.

Steve's shoulders drooped at the sight of Dustin alive before his brain registered who Dustin was slumped over and the state he was in, and he had to bite back a sob of his own. Because there lay Eddie Munson in a pool of his own blood. Munson, who clearly pulled some hero shit, and damn it, Eddie, I told you not to be a hero!

Steve slid in front of Dustin, causing the boy to look up. "Steve! Steve, you have to help him! Eddie, he– he cut the rope– and– and—" Dustin's voice trailed off into sobs again, and Steve sprung into action.

"Dustin, you gotta move. I'm gonna help him, but I need you to move." The curly haired boy nodded, hiccuping, and moved out from under Eddie.

Steve was quick to check his pulse, finding a faint, but very much there, thump thump thump. Steve ripped off his jacket and tied it around the wounds on Munson's side. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he hefted Eddie into a bridal carry and stood.

When he turned, he was met with Nancy's determined face. "Dustin said Munson cut the rope, so I won't be able to get him through there. I want you to take Dustin back through the gate in the trailer and call for an ambulance to Fred's gate. After that, go pick up the kids. Robin, you're with me. Meet us at the hospital."

His tone brokered no arguments as they set off in the direction of the highway, his thoughts a constant stream of Eddie Eddie Eddie and Max Max Max.

The next moments were a blur of movement and sound as they got Eddie and themselves through the gate and into the ambulance once it got there.

They rode in the ambulance with Eddie, Steve making sure the paramedics were doing their job. As soon as they got to Hawkins General, Eddie was taken into surgery, and Steve and Robin were alone in the parking lot.

As they entered the lobby, they were met with chaos. He wove his way through the crowd of people seeking treatment or waiting for loved ones and went to the reception desk, Robin following closely behind him.

"Excuse me, was a Max– um Maxine Mayfield admitted recently?" He asked the nurse there, body thruming with anxiety. She clacked away on her computer for a minute before turning to him.

"There was. Are you family? I'm afraid I can't give any more information unless you are."

"I am. I'm her brother? Please, we got separated, and all I know is she got hurt. Is she– is she okay?"

Pity swirled in her eyes, and he tried not to snap. She glanced back at her computer, reading something before answering, "She's in surgery right now, I'm sorry, I don't know much beyond that."

He nodded shakily, stepping back from the counter. He stumbled as the adrenaline faded. His vision blurred, he felt lightheaded, and his sides burned.

"Steve? Steve!" Robin shouting was the last thing he heard before he collapsed, and his world went black.

●●●●●

"Scoops! I work for Scoops!" He thought he escaped. Why was he back in the base? His head felt light and floaty, so they must've drugged him again. Robin. Where's Robin?

"Steve! Calm down! You're in the hospital. We're not in the base. We got out. I'm right here. Breathe, dingus. You're okay. I'm okay."

Slowly, Steve's breathing evened out, and his vision cleared. He took in the white walls around him and sagged against the bed. White, not steel gray. He glanced to his right, where Robin was sitting, gripping his hand, and he relaxed fully.

The memories of the last week rushed back, and he fought the panic that threatened to rise. Robbie squeezed his hand, reading his mind, and said, "You collapsed because of your wounds and had to be rushed into surgery. You've got some damage to your throat from being strangled, and your bat bites got a minor infection. Your back is also raw and had some cuts on it. The doctor said you'll have a lot of scars, and you'll likely need some physical therapy to rebuild the muscle the bats took, but you should be okay. Don't ever scare me like that again, though, Dingus."

He squeezed her hand, urging her to continue. "Max is.. She's hurt pretty bad. She has a broken arm, both of her legs are broken, and her eyes took a hit. They're not sure if she'll ever walk again, and they have to wait until she wakes up to know if she'll be able to see, but they're hopeful. She's in a medically induced coma so she can heal.

Eddie got here just in time. He lost a lot of blood and needed several transfusions, but he's alive. He'll probably need physical therapy, and he'll scar, but he's gonna be fine."

Steve practically collapsed in relief. They were okay. Hurt, but alive. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks, a question in his eyes when he looked at her.

How is everyone else?

"Everyone else has minor injuries. Erica has some scrapes and bruises from Andy tackling her, and Lucas had to get some stitches because of Jason. Apparently, they attacked the kids, and Jason went all pitchforks and torches on Lucas. Max's Walkman broke in the scuffle, and that's why she got all hurt."

Steve had to breathe for a minute to stave of the murderous rage he felt and the sudden and all-consuming urge to kill the bastards who dare lay a finger on his kids.

"Down, boy. Jason got killed when the gates split open, and Andy is currently in custody. And before you ask, the gates closed pretty soon after they nearly split the town open. We don't know how or why, but they're closed.

Back on the topic of everyone's health, Dustin got a sprained ankle when he went back through the gate after Eddie cut the rope, so he's got an ankle boot for that, but he'll be fine. Nancy and I are okay. The only injuries we got were from the vines choking us, but there was no lasting damage."

He nodded, opening his mouth to talk, barely getting a word out before he's thrown into a coughing fit. Robin handed him a cup of cold water, and he was quick to gulp it down.

"Try not to talk. Like I said, you've got a bit of damage to your throat, so it's gonna hurt to talk for a little."

He nodded again and mimed writing. She grabbed a legal pad and a pen that sat on the table by the bed and handed it over.

'Any word from the Byers?'

"Yeah, Jonathan was able to get into contact a few hours ago. He said they were on their way back to Hawkins and would explain what happened on their end when they got here."

'How long have I been out?'

"About a day. Your surgery lasted for a few hours, and then you were in and out of consciousness a couple of times after the anesthesia wore off."

'Why was everything chaos when we got here yesterday?'

"When the gates initially opened, it caused a pretty massive earthquake, and a lot of people got injured. Now, enough questions. You still need rest. When you wake up next, I'll see if I can convince a nurse to let you see Max. Sleep, everyone will still be here when you wake up, and I'm not gonna leave your side."

With that last bit of reassurance, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Part 2

——————————————

This was mostly an excuse to write Steve passing out from his injuries in Season four and some Steve and Max sibling-ism!

[astro-vision-au]

Sleep aid [Lunite X Nill]

DISCLAIMER:

This fic is unedited and unrevised, meaning there may be spelling or formatting errors.

I'm sane chat I swear just leT ME COOK-

Sleep. It's something all living things need in some form or another, even if they don't appreciate it, it's still a necessity for survival. But what about creatures that don't have to follow these rules? Or perhaps they can't, even if they tried? That was the blight that fell upon Lunite, the inability to sleep, an aggressive form of insomnia. She occasionally would fall asleep here and there, once maybe every few days if she was lucky, but only for a few minutes at a time. She didn't let this stop her from doing her job and assisting her twin. She and Pyris, dropped in a strange new world, ripped from the place they once called home, found a new place for them to belong.

Bob's hotel, the most popular on the west side of the kingdom, attracting tourists from across the land and even the bordering continent of Astronia, the place Pyris and Lunite first found themselves when appearing in this world, before moving to Bob's Bulverde to work full time. Their job was simple, manage and run the daycare in the family zone wing of the hotel, giving parents a much needed break if they wished to visit the casino or Kenos corner. Some parents would occasionally leave their kids for the entirety of their stay to enjoy the adult amenities more frequently, leaving their child in the care of the twins. Of course, some children didn't like sleeping in the rooms of the daycare hall. Either by stubborn choice or anxiety of not having mom or dad around, they would stay up late into the night.

Lunite, always being awake and vigilant, would round up any young ones still awake I'm the late hours of the night, spending as much time with them as they needed before they would eventually fall asleep. They would always fall asleep… well… almost, there was always one or two every now and then, that simply couldn't sleep at all. Lunite felt for them, the poor children, she knew how it felt. They were always a struggle, but Lunite was always patient, never once did she raise her voice or scold them, even when they lashed out, she was always patient, after all, either it be early in the morning or late into the night.

They would all fall asleep eventually.

But something changed one day. The night prior was rough, at least a dozen kids refusing to sleep, and still full of boundless energy even the next morning, only to crash around noon after Pyris took them off her hands to give her a break. Lunite sighed, knowing it was going to be another long night, but she knew she could handle it, she always did. She sat in the far corner of Blackout bar, eating her lunch, when she noticed a familiar figure walk over and sit across from her. She quickly swallowed her food and wiped her mouth. 

“Blacklight, what's up?” She asked, greeting Blacklight with a nod. The screen display on Blacklights helmet displayed a smile as he spoke.

“Oh, same old same old, hey, I don't mean to bother you on your break, but I heard you had some trouble with those little goblins last night.” Blacklight chimed, but Lunite only frowned.

“Children Blacklight, they are children, not goblins.” Lunite hissed, but Blacklight waved her off.

“Yeah yeah, look, not my point. So I was talking to Nightshade a few days ago right? So she has this friend, a popular game streamer, who goes by PZX5?.” Blacklight rambled before he shook his head. Lunite couldn't help but crack a smile, mostly in amusement. It was always a spectacle watching Blacklight talk, mostly because he was always hyped up on enough caffeine to kill a cow.

“I'm getting ahead of myself, not the point. But this guy's got a brother yeah? Has this freaky ass power, turns out the guy can make people fall asleep but just looking at him!” He exclaimed. Lunites ears twitched, her interest peaked.

“So, turns out, he has these streams right, it's meant to help you sleep. It's nothing fancy really, just a stream of his logo or whatever it is, I don't know, but apparently just watching it can help you fall asleep! Didn't work on me of course, but apparently worked really well for Conroy and S.B. Maybe it can help you with those little goblins you call kids.” Blacklight chuckled, inciting a friendly punch to the arm by Lunite.

“Blacklight!” But Lunite couldn't help but smirk as she tried to scold him. Both ended up snickering, but Lunite soon shook her head. “I'll consider it if things get out of hand, thanks Blacklight.” She nodded, and Blacklight nodded back, standing up from his seat. 

“Well, the grind never stops, you know, enjoy your lunch.” He waved, walking off. Lunites attention returned back to her food, perhaps these streams would help after all… maybe… could they…? No no, it couldn't. She shook her head, what a silly thought. 

~

Days had passed since then, and Lunite almost hated to admit it, but the streams were working wonders for those children who were too bound with energy to settle. All it took was playing the stream, and one my one each would fall asleep. Of course, just as she thought, the streams never seemed to work for her, no matter how long she looked at the logo on screen, it didn't seem to work. But it was in this resistance she noticed something strange. The logo seemed to shimmer and pulse with a faint glow, in a strange rhythmic pattern, almost like a heartbeat, slow and steady. It was… mesmerizing in its own strange way. While it may not have aided her in sleep, she couldn't help but watch it in her free time, something about it seemed to make her relax. she noticed, like a heartbeat, the pulsing light would fluctuate, typically during the day, and she wondered if anyone else noticed this strange pattern. Probably not, most people who watched the stream would have long fallen asleep before they noticed. She felt a sense of pride and privilege, knowing that most likely, she was the only person who was aware of this shift, as if it was made for her and only her. But that seemed foolish didn't it?

Noon was approaching, it would be time for the youngest nap time, but of course, it was another day of restless behavior, and to make it worse, there were far more kids today than what she was normally used to. She wondered if the streams would help today. After all, getting a gaggle of toddlers to sit and watch the stream long enough for them to fall asleep wouldn't be easy. As she guided the last of the children into the room, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turning around, she saw her twin. They seemed tired, giving a yawn before speaking.

“Hey sis, sorry to bother you but you have a guest today for nap time.” Pyris mumbled, Lunites ear flicked in confusion. 

“A guest? I wasn't told about this? Don't you think nap time is perhaps not the best time to be welcoming a surprise guest?” Her voice was tense, just above a whisper, not wanting the children to hear, but Pyris didn't seem bothered, as if too tired to care.

“Oh don't worry, I'm sure you'll love the guest, they'll get the kids to sleep in no time.” Pyris muttered with a chuckle, Lunite was concerned. 

“Pyris, are you feeling alright? You seem out of it.” Lunite questioned, but Pyris only shook their head with a chuckle. 

“Ah, nah it's fine, but your guest is about to stop by any minute.” Pyris paused their sentence to yawn. “And if I spend any more time around him I'm really gonna crash, he'll explain more when he gets here, see ya sis.” Pyris muttered casually, waving their hand as they walked down the hall and out of sight before Lunite could question any further. Her tail twitched in annoyance, this wasn't like Pyris to do things so last minute like this. As she was caught up in her confusion, a voice caught her attention.

“Excuse me… this is the nap room right?” Lunite turned, there, at the end of the hall stood a man. His figure was large, almost intimidating, or at least, it would be if he didn't look like an oversized teddy bear. What caught her eye almost immediately however, was his head, an old box TV sat on his shoulders, the eyes displayed on his screen looked tired, yet somehow bright and full of life. Lunite paused for a moment, taking in every detail before she spoke.

“Yes it is… are you our guest?” She questioned, her voice flat, almost cold, which seemed to put the man on edge. 

“Y-yes, you're um… Lunite? Um… I'm Mr. Night Light, but, uh… most just call me Nill.” He stammered, he didn't move from his place at the end of the hall, which caught Lunites attention. But what really peaked her interest was that name.

“You're the one who hosts those sleep streams right?” Her voice softened, which seemed to put Nill at ease. 

“Yes, that's right.” He responded. The silence that followed however was tense. Lunite shifted slightly.

“Um… you're welcome to come in.” She gestured to the door, which seemed to make Nill slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I would but… I don't want to get too close to you.” He muttered, fidgeting with his hands. “It's kind of… a long story but, it's not just my streams that can put people to sleep, people get tired just by being around me, I don't want to make you tired when you have a job to do.” He explained the whole time he avoided eye contact, like a small child that was guilty of something, ironic for a man of such size and stature. Lunite let out a mild chuckle.

“I think you'll find I'm quite resistant, please, come in.” She chimed, her voice warm and welcoming as she opened the door. Nill seemed surprised. He hesitated but soon walked forward. Walking right past Lunite, giving her a glance, as if checking to make sure she hadn't passed out on the spot. However, she remained standing tall, unfazed and unbothered by his presence. 

As he entered the room, with Lunite right behind, the children's eyes all fell on him. Lunite noticed right away that just by simply being in the room, some of the children were already starting to yawn. 

“It seems this will be easier than I thought… Would you like to read the children a story, Nill?” She asked. Nill blinked before nodding.

“A story? Oh yes, of course.” He said, giving Lunite a smile. She responded with one of her own, walking over to the shelf to grab a book as Nill made his way over to the corner of the room.

“Alright children, before nap time, our friend here is going to read a story for us, so gather around and put on your best listening ears for him.” Lunite chimed. The room was filled with giggles, nods, and tiny voices responding with a yes or something of the same manner. Lunite approached Nill as he sat down, handing him the book. As he reached out to grab it, his hand brushed against her own. She didn't react, but for a moment, Lunite saw a flash of panic om Nills face, soon followed by mix of pure disbelief and curiously, but it only lasted a moment before his attention was turned to the book I'm his hands. The children who sat around him were already starting to get tired, some even laying down on the ground as Nill started to read. 

Nill only got a few pages in before all of the children were fast asleep. Nill didn't even notice until Lunite chuckled, causing him to look up and see the mass of tiny sleeping buddies, causing him to also smile. Both of them spent the next few minutes making sure each child was covered with a blanket.

“If I knew it would be this easy, I would have asked you to stop by weeks ago.” Lunite chortled. Nill responded with a laugh of his own but didn't say much after that. As Lunite turned to Nill, she found him surprisingly close. She could see the color on his screen was a lighter shade of pink than before, and he seemed to struggle to keep eye contact.

“Hey so… this is a really… odd question… but… could I see your hand for a moment?” Nill asked. He fidgeted for a moment as Lunites ears twitched in curiosity. 

“Of course.” She said without hesitation, holding out her hand palm up. Nill seemed to hesitate, even though he was the one to ask. But he soon reached out, taking her hand into his own, or rather, his paws. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face, his face was lit up a bright pink.

“You don't… feel tired at all?” He asked. Lunite felt her face heat up for a moment, something about the way he looked at her, she couldn't quite describe.

“No… not at all… I've never been able to sleep well, I guess you could say it's… a rather aggressive form of insomnia.” She muttered, her voice trailing off. Nills eyes never left her. It seemed to make her face warm up even more.

“Normally… I can't get this close to people- let alone touch them, without then passing out cold… you're… you're the first person I've met who's… not affected.” He muttered, and after a moment, his face suddenly went bright before he turned away, letting Lunites hand go. “Sorry, I was staring, wasn't I?” He muttered. Lunite only froze for a moment. A thousand thoughts bounced around in her mind, but she was able to finally say one. She placed a hand on Nills arm, causing him to look at her again. 

“Would you, perhaps, like to get lunch with me, Nill?” She asked, a soft smile on her face, and Nill smiled back.

“I… would like that.”

[butt3rdite]

Powerpuff Girls headcannons in my AU

Incorrect grammar and spelling errors is going to be in here so warning 😞 I’m typing this on my phone instead of my laptop (rip)

Blossom cusses like a sailor. I don’t see this interpretation of her a lot like yes she does keep the “good girl” image in public but in private like around close friends and family, you will hear her say ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘asshole’, and ‘bitch’ a lot.

Bubbles and Robin is the type to watch anime and when they see a hot anime character on screen they would be like ‘Here me out…’ lmaooo😂😂.

Brat and Butch used to date but are now exes. Don’t put them on a team together because they would bicker like old married couple about their problems with each other.

Kimberly has a biggest crush on Boomer but Boomer is very oblivious about that said affection.

Brick is the shortest brother and he makes up for it by having the biggest ego.

Brute trust Princess Morbucks more than own sister which it’s sad

Even though the girls have separate rooms, they still end sharing the same bed. It’s a habit

On the weekends Him is in charge of taking care of the rrb while on the weekdays Mojo Jojo is in charge which Mojo Jojo hates.

Butch was the reason Buttercup knows how to ride a motorcycle

Berserk isn’t a good leader and the only reason she got the role as the leader it’s because of her being a red.

Mitch,Floyd and Lloyd together =chaos

Lloyd gets clowned at for dating Julie and he swears he only make-out with her a couple of times.

Mitch and Butch friendship blossomed after being put in theatre class together which they both secretly like hate.

Buttercup and Princess is the shortest ones in the group but princess sworn that she’s taller than her ( it’s her puffs)

Mike,Boomer and Elmer owns a school drama page on Instagram ( yes I’m coming off of my experience in my high school days lmaooo)

Blossom is lesbian, Bubbles is Pan and Buttercup is Bisexual

Brick is Gay,Boomer is Demiromantic, and Butch is (undecided, I can’t think of any for him)

Berserk is Asexual,Brat is Bisexual and Brute is a lesbian

Mitch is Bi, Robin is lesbian , Mike Aromatic, Princess is (undecided for her)

I’m brain fogged and that’s all I can think of I need help lol

[tactical-mode]

Final Fantasy VII - Episode 014

I swear, every episode I am learning how to manipulate the engine better as well as improving my eye for cinematography. Happier with this episode than ever! Remember to turn on CC for the dialogue!

(A note for people who prefer the spelling of Aeris over Aerith: the default subtitles list Aerith, her canonical name. However, all videos have been given English - Canada option, which changes nothing except her name. As the people who wanted Aeris were Canadian, it was only natural. This way, you can select English - Canada while watching via the Playlist starting from the first episode, and you won't have to select it again.)

[Chapter 08] Scenes 9-13

Well the obvious change here is the lack of time ghosts.

Invisible Whispers by Neocoretx is doing the heavy lifting here, however, even with the mod, the whispers leave behind a blurry residue and some conspicuous dust, which could be removed by turning particle emitters off (this had the added benefit of making the yellow materia behind the guard less eye-catching). You may see Reno with a hand on his waist in one shot - he's actually injured from a boss fight that happens in 7R that doesn't happen in this series (it would ruin the flowers!)

The shot where Cloud and Aerith run up the stairs and out of frame, only to appear as the camera lifts up to the beam, is my experiment for this episode - planning a camera path that crosses over multiple moments to quickly show progress through an area is a great way to save on run-time without compromising the feeling of traversal. Without that trick, it takes one minute to run from the bottom of the stairs up to the beam - with this technique, it takes 5 seconds. And looks pretty spiffy if I do say so myself.

The music is a continuation of Enter Turks from EC.

Scenes 14-15

The church has been modified by FantasyRaiderr to resemble its original design, and it looks great. Also, the plate above our characters is thanks to the great Skybox Switcher mod by Altezein.

To get the coverage, much like last episode, I set up over-the-shoulder shots and let ‘er rip for a few hours while I went dancing. I've created a nice shorthand for myself to organize the shots by which idle animations happen, to clearly see what I'm working with:

(Ironically, I didn't end up using any shots from this angle ^_^)

The music transitions from Enter Turks to a track from Remake which actually plays when you meet Aerith earlier (Episode 6 of this series). I only use the first four bars before transitioning to Remake’s version of Flowers Blooming in the Church which replaces the bells with a piano and has a more embellished accompaniment.

Scene 16

This 5 minute sequence has been pared down to a single ~30 second shot. I decided that fading the characters in and out gave a greater sense of adventure and traversal. The sequence where they’re shimmying along the pipe is actually me going in the wrong direction lol, it was on purpose - the goal was to give the sense of them travelling from right to left across the screen.

Scene 17

The church mod is on proud display in this shot, but something else is happening. The roof above Cloud is thanks to Skybox Switcher - but that mod has an error that is apparent from this vantage point alone - the section where the outer wall should be is missing the wall and worse, the lighting creates a kind of ghost-wall in front of an expansive desert. Can’t have that, so I hand-composited 82 frames to transition from the ceiling to the floor. Eagle-eyed viewers may notice some flickering of color in the sky, where my frame-by-frame compositing is glaringly amateurish. Hehe oops!

Aerith gives us a delightful cuss in the Remake version of this scene. I was tempted to include it, but my better angels prevailed.

Scene 18

Another transitional shot leads us down to solid ground. In 7R there’s a scene and a combat here. Snip snip.

Final Thoughts

This is a really pleasant episode to watch, I knew the travelling shots would be cute but I’m honestly quite enamored with them! I hope you like them.

Gonna take another short break as I get some real life ducks in a row and this is a lovely beat to rest on. My passion for this project will ensure that I don’t stay away for long.

[the-clown-who-loves-clowns]

I wrote this a while ago but haven't met anyone I thought would want to read it, so I decided to post it on a platform. I've proofread it a couple of times, but there still might be a couple of spelling errors.

(Warning: mention of blood, knifes, and fighting)

Promise

The night I got out of the cooler, Tim came to pick me up. It was the first time I was put into a real jail since I was old enough to be held accountable. Being in constant fear or having to make sure you're ready to punch any guy that puts hands on you makes you a little tense when you get out. The correction officer took my cuffs off in the lobby and pushed me into Tim, who was waiting for me with his hands on his hips. He had a real serious face, but then again, he always had that kind of expression. He almost looked mad at me. And then it hit me. He was mad at me and I was in for it. He grabbed the nape of my neck and harshly guided me out the heavily guarded doors. Silently, I wished that I was in my cell again.

He pushed me into the passenger seat of our broken down jaguar and slammed the door then walked to his side of the car. He didn't get in so I waited. a cigarette break. I knew it was better to not try and talk with him. I knew whatever was going to be said was not going to be just talk. He was gonna get at me for getting caught. I know I had it coming but I hate being yelled at by Tim. Truth is he scared me. Just as bad as he scared the kids he mugged or beat up. He's killed people before. Living in a house with him and our “family” was worse than rotting in the ice box.

I saw the red-orange glow of his cigarette get ground away along with the last moments of my hope that he wouldn't be too mad. In a matter of seconds I was going to suffer the Wrath of My big brother. I hadn't done anything like that before so I knew we were going to have it out. I wasn't in a very fighting mood but if I didn't fight back he would go too far and kill me, That was the truth. He climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door with an irritated sigh. Here we go, I thought.

“Stupid kid” he growled turning the car on “thought I taught you better”

We ripped out of the jail parking lot and drove in the direction of home. They put me in a pretty far away reformatory. It was about 30 minutes away from our house. Great 30 minutes with Tim.

“Guess I oughta teach you again huh?” He gripped the steering wheel and I knew I was going to be nothing but a limp pile at the end of the night.

“You ain't gonna teach nothin” I said quietly, grabbing the blade I had in my pocket. I had forgotten about that knife. When they locked me up they had taken all of my stuff and put it someplace until I got out then gave it all back. I was thankful they did. Tim gazed at me from the other side of the car with a look that scared me so much I couldn't move.

“Is that so?” He said with a dangerous grin “how else are you gonna learn then curly?”

My fight or flight was starting to kick in. I clutched the door handle. If I rolled out of that car I probably would be less scuffed up but if Tim got a hold of me. Lights out.

He stared at me for a long while then gave out a grim laugh. He probably saw how scared I looked. I could feel how wide my eyes were and how heavily I was breathing. We still had about 25 minutes left of a drive home when the car slowed to a stop. We were in a part of town that almost seemed dead at night. Nobody was around. No cops, no people, not even cars parked in the lots of stores. Tim turned the car off and got out. I still couldn't move. Within seconds, he ripped the door open and dragged me out by the collar of my jacket into an alleyway. I wanted to scream but knew better. This is what I got for getting caught doing stupid things. I had it coming to me.

“Lets see how much you learned in the pen”

I struggled to get away from his hold but He threw me into the brick wall, marking a dead end of the alley and knocked the wind out of me.

“wait! Tim I ain't-” it was too late.

He had me pinned with one hand and slugging me with the other. He's punched me before then but not ever as hard. Every blow made my vision go more and more blurry. I tried to fight back but he got rougher. Then he took his hands off me. I heard the flick of a switchblade Through my heavy breathing. i spat out blood and backed up as much as I could.

“w-wait Tim you ain't gonna kill me are you?” I pleaded. my legs were trembling and thought: this is it then.

He picked at his nails with the blade and slowly got closer.

“naw I ain't gonna kill ya. Just gonna give you uh a pop quiz. Yeah. How's that sound curly?”

I felt my legs give in but was held up by Tim who pinned me by the shoulder and was now pressing the blade into my neck. I let out a painful cry. He punched me in the ribs to quit me.

“Shut up Someone'll hear you!”

I had squirmed enough to get the switchblade out of his hands and onto the dirty concrete of the alley floor. He socked me a couple more times and let me fall. I stayed on the ground gasping for air but not moving, I mean I couldn't move. If I had made any more actions Tim would be on me again, beating the life outta me. So I pretend to pass out.

I couldn't see from how much I was struck in the face. I could tell my nose was broken and my whole face was bruised. When I drew in breath I got this stabbing pain. Some of my ribs were broken. And maybe a couple of my fingers were too. He got me pretty bad.

Without my eyes working I could only hear what was going on. It sounded like huffing or sniffing. It was crying and it was coming from Tim. He never cried. I heard him quietly sob until I felt his arms wrap around me and hoist me up. It startled me a little but I had to stay still on the account of what he was gonna do if I moved. He would have actually killed me. He sniffled and put me in the back of the car, lying down. My whole body ached.

What was I going to tell our folks?. Nothing. I'd tell them that's what happens in jail. Maybe angel would see and straighten up. I didn't want my baby sister in the reformatory. Tim started the car and drove the rest of the way home. I didn't want to ever get there but I couldn't go anywhere else. The car turned into a driveway. Our driveway. Gravel underneath the wheels crunched and grinded until the car came to a complete stop. Tim got out and slammed the door loudly behind him. Great. get mom and dad's attention, Why don't ya. I thought.

He swung the door closest to my head open and shook me a bit.

“wake up we're here” He demanded

“o-ka-y” I choked

I tried to sit upright but was dragged back down by the overpowering stabbing in my sides and chest. The more I moved the more my head hurt.

“What's the matter? Get on your feet”

“I-i ca-n't”

“What?”

“I C-can't move Tim”

The swelling in my face had gone down good enough that I could see. Tim covered his mouth and stepped back from the car a little ways. Then he came back, composed.

“Then I guess you're sleepin in the car tonight”

That was fine by me. I didn't want to go inside that house anyway. He slammed the door shut and I could hear his footsteps get further away.

He never cared about me so why did he cry? He beat the life outta me then I understood. He did care. He didn't want me caught again. It was the worst way he could show it but that's how our folks brought him up. He cared about me but that night I realized I didn't care about him. You just don't do that sort of thing to someone you care about. I wanted him to know that. Only problem was I was too scared of him. After that I couldn't even be in the same room with him. It felt like his cat-like eyes were always on me. I would never do something stupid in his presence ever again. He solved that problem at least.

After that night I wasn't much of a talker. If Tim spoke I stayed silent and only talked when told I could. Like a puppet. Following his rules gave him no reason to clobber me. So I did. What he doesn't know is i got my hands on a heater. I will never let something like that happen to me again. That's a promise.

[linnielovesellie]

winter romance part 1

warnings: cussing? i think that’s all idk reader is bi? (she flirts w a guy and isn’t very sure of her sexuality yet!)

random: i’ve never done one of these before so be nice probably a bunch of grammar and spelling errors sorry!*also this part is mainly background explaining stuff*

your in college living your life it’s almost winter break and you can’t help to be excited but all of a sudden you get the worst news of your life..well according to you.

SORRY FOR ANY ERRORS!! anyway..!!

you decide to post about it..your bestfriend lena immediately comments on it and then texts you.

*one notification*

lena: your going to jackson?! since when!

“trust me not by choice i’m leaving in a few days probably”

you immediately respond with

*buzz buzz*

lena: but what about all our fun winter plans?! this sucks y/n.

“i know im sorry but we still have a few days..let’s hang while we can linnie”

lena: oh don’t “linnie” me i’m so bummed but you’re right let’s hang soon with the whole group!!

linnie is a nickname you gave your bestfriend lena when in class the teacher couldn’t pronounce her name and you both found it extremely funny and silly and you’ve randomly called her that ever since

you post on your spam account some pictures of you and your friends hang out already missing them.. the next day you hit the road your already going to the airport your a bit nervous you haven’t seen your dad in so long your lost in thoughts until..

*buzz buzz*

ethan winston commented: miss you already pretty lady

you immediately groan at the notification you and ethan had been flirty for a bit but you both always never took it too seriously plus you weren’t sure if you even really did like him or if you just thought he was cute either way you both didn’t wanna ruin the friend group by causing unnecessary drama by dating. your thoughts break as your mom speaks.

“y/n i want you on your best behavior when your at your dads okay?”

“yea..okay i don’t even understand why i have to go?”

“look i know it’s never been easy for you ever since me and you dad split honey..but your father is finally ready to reconnect with you and i’ve told him that door has always been open for him.”

“he never tried to connect with me when i was younger.” you say your voice laced with attitude

“y/n.” your mom says sternly before her voice softens.

“your dad was busy when you were little always working on his business sweetie he loves you and now that he’s all settled down in jackson he’s ready for you to see his life okay?”

you just hum and nod at her not wanting to continue this conversation. you knew the real reason why he wanted you over there just so he could please your mom and make her happy and make her think he’s changed when in reality he hasn’t you’ve always known he misses your mom but his pride holds him back plus your mom definitely doesn’t miss him after he never payed attention to her for years and only focused on his work. all he cared about was money and growing his business but now your getting of the car saying your goodbyes to your mom dragging your suitcases into the airport.

*buzz buzz*

your phone buzzes as you sit down and wait for your plane to arrive.

new messages from: lena, kenna, bre.

*are we there yet?*

a gc made which your 3 best friends made on a long car ride which taking forever and your friends brother mark was driving and you all couldn’t talk out loud since your friends brother would hear the conversation which none of you wanted.. since the conversation was very silly and private you all were bored out of your minds hence the gc name no one has bothered to change it since then.

bre:“day 1 without y/n i feel myself going blind”

lena: literally i miss her so much RIP Y/N!

i’m literally right here?

you text.

kenna: it’s like she’s still here..

you can’t help but let out a small giggle at that..you and your friends text until it’s time to board the plane..it takes some long hours until your finally off the plane. once your off and go get your bags outside waiting for you is your dad claiming he couldn’t go inside since it was “too confusing” as if he hasn’t been to millions of businesses meeting that involved him traveling.

“no it’s okay dad i don’t mind..” you say to his excuse on why he didn’t meet you but still you give him a warm smile.

“alright then let’s go you’ll love it sweetie.”

your dad wasn’t a bad person..he’s just money obsessed which confused you since he lived in jackson. as your dad described it jackson was a warm nice town where most everyone knew eachother. your dad had loved working in nyc he loved the business in jackson he was a boss of a important business there.. you really didn’t know much you just knew he was the boss around there.

your looking out the window appreciating the view it was very pretty it was late night and you were exhausted after tour 7 hour flight you decided to text your mom.

“hey with dad now. miss you love you mom.”

*buzz buzz*

“happy to hear sweetie love you.”

you close your phone and smile sweetly and your moms “i love you” text soon your off youe dads car and into his house it was a nice house the neighborhood was nice..your dad shows you your room it looks nice you immediately get into bed not bothering to unpack yet your dad chuckles at you

“ready to hit the hay?” he says

“yea im all jet lagged. so sleepy.”

“alright night sweetie..nice having you here..maybe..uh tomorrow morning we can get some coffee? if you even like that sort of thing.”

“coffee sounds great dad..thanks..night.”

he shuts your room door and you cuddle into the sheets. has he really changed? is he really trying to bond? your not sure but decide to sleep it off.

next morning you wake up at 9 in the morning sleepy only to find out your dad is up and awake you linger around the house you eventually find him typing away in his office making calls too he soon realized you and turns to you and smiles as he’s on the phone quickly putting it on mute

“i’m almost done here you can go and change and then we’ll head out for breakfast okay?”

“okay..” you rub your eyes and head back upstairs into your room unpacking most of your important stuff like makeup and outfits and your brush just to get ready and soon you’re all ready.

you and your dad head out and go to a local breakfast place you walk there and talk about how life’s been and things like that sook your there and you both sit

“what can i get you?”

a girl with a slicked back pony tail asks.

“just 2 coffees for now dina thanks”

“oh! mark! it’s you! sorry been so busy haven’t even payed attention..who’s this?”

“that’s my daughter..y/n she’s probably around your age she’s in college aswell..”

“hi..” you say and smile shyly

“hi im dina! so nice to finally meet you your dad has talked about you before he comes in here a lot so i’d know.”

“mhm dina i was wondering if you could show y/n the town maybe? just so you know she has a friend”

“oh-“

you get interrupted you didn’t need anyone to keep you busy while he was off at work you didn’t wanna be a inconvenience.

“i’d love to! that would be so great..plus id love to make a new friend aswell.”

you smile warmly at her

“are you sure i don’t wanna be a bother..”

“no don’t worry! you won’t”

“well..i have to get to work soon..”

“but our drinks dad-“

“well you woke up late sweets..sorry.”

you get up to leave with him but dina stops you

“wait! stay! you can meet my friends..they’ll be by soon and i’ll sit too and we could all talk..? and get to know eachother “

you look at your dad hurrying already to work and you agree and quickly tell your father you’ll stay you curse yourself feeling like your dad hadn’t changed one bit now..your lost in thought upset but the door of the dinner opens a girl walks in with green eyes her face scattered with freckles she was very pretty she immediately caught your attention you barley noticed the guy next to her

“ellie! jesse! your here come sit!”

dina immediately abandones her cleaning tables and comes to me

“this is my new friend y/n she’s very nice she’s new around here wait..how long are you here for y/n?”

“just for the winter break so like for 3 weeks because then my college classes start up again”

“ahh..nice okay! this is ellie..and jesse”

they both sit down at the table

“hey..nice to meet you”

the guy says you greet him aswell he obviously has a thing for dina not being able to take his eyes off her as she gets their drinks.

“nice to meet you too”

the freckled girl says looking at you

“so..what are you doing in jackson?”

“oh visiting my dad..for the holidays”

“nice wait so where do you live?”

immediately you both hit it off asking eachother question with dina’s friend jesse being too busy just waiting for dina to come back soon i leave to the restroom excusing myself while im gone dina comes with the drinks and sits down

“woah? ellie’s actually talking that’s surprising”

“how’s that-“

“because you never talk to new people ellie.” dina teases

“mmh yea this is the most talkative she’s been in awhile” jesse chuckles ellie just gets embarrassed

“shut up! i’m just being nice plus jesse was just gawking over you the whole time so i had to say something!”

“ellie since when are you fucking nice??”

you finally come back and sit down noticing it goes a bit quiet when you come back and just smile awkwardly

“soo..why’s ellie red?”

dina bursts out laughing

“yea can you explain that one ellie?”

“probably because dina’s pissing me off”. ellie smirks a bit

“interesting..”

(ahh in ending it right here bc i need to sleep and i don’t wanna make into a draft bc last time i did that it didn’t upload anyway this is part 1!! ill make part 2 tmr maybe!)

[obey-my-twisted-logic]

Truth Spilled : Prefect is not the perfect extrovert they're assumed to be - not at all. Idia Shroud x GN!Reader (may be slightly fem leaning, apologies in advance if I missed anything like that)

Synopsis : post book 6, after Idia shows his skills, Prefect decides to take him aside when he seems overwhelmed by the people, leaving Ortho to entertain those who remain. As they reassure and comfort him, the cracks show and the shell reveals a close guarded secret.

Warnings : crying, mental health confessions, ptsd and beyond. Occasional cursing on both ends. Basic proof reading, potentially missed grammatical or spelling errors is higher than you think. Angst is real, but there's some playful fluff in the end. Only platonic in this blurb.

Authors Note : very self indulgent. How I personally have been feeling as the game progresses as someone with severe PTSD and anxiety. Had I been in a dorm, definitely would have been Ignihyde 100%.

---

After the impressive amount of prowess and just cocky amount of game play by the usually introverted dorm leader, you decided to rescue him when the nervous sweating kicked in. The initial adrenaline had worn off, and you knew the only reason he hadn't bolted was because Ortho had never looked happier, getting to interact and be normal with a group of friends, and making sure his big brother got to join in the fun.

Big brother was all "fun"d out, and as a good host, and just sympathetic anxiety riddled bean, you take him upstairs with the excuse of needing assistance with some older technology you had been relying on.

After gently steering him up the stairs and to the furthest guest room, you hold on lightly to the sleeve of his jacket to guide him. Nothing too invasive, but still a comfort, despite his initial flinch, he seemed to accept the action and looked almost grateful for the escape.

"Here we are. Furthest back and best insulation, trust me." You say leading him in and closing the door quietly. "Sorry for the white lie, but you looked like you needed the break, so I thought-" immediately your cut short by a nasty look and a huff as he dropped onto the bed and fell back.

"What would you even know about how I feel? What was I not cheerful enough for your liking? Perfect Prefect, of course you'd notice. Why'd you bring attention to it?" Idia snapped giving you a dirty look. Now Ortho would be upset and think he hadn't had any fun.

Sigh escaping your lips you take a seat on the floor and lean against the closed door. Eyes closed you steady your breathing the best that you can. Despite your best, tears streak gently and slowly from each eye. You can hear him shift panicked on the bed, assuming he was sitting upright and staring. You decide to keep your eyes closed, more amused by the expression in your mind and not wanting to embarrass yourself further.

"Idia, I know you're smart, I know you think you know all that there is to know about everything." Slowly you open your eyes, ignoring the tears, allowing yourself this moment. He wanted to know why you did it, why you interfered, well he'd certainly find out today. "You're not near as smart when it comes to any information you think you know about me."

"I grew up in constant survival mode. As soon as I begin to heal from the nightmare my life has been, I'm ripped into a world that I've never known. Most memories have been ripped from me of my old world, and I was dumped here with only my survival instincts keeping me from truly breaking down." You wipe some tears away, just to clear your vision to catch his gaze. He looked guilty and chewed at his lower lip.

"I've been nearly killed by half the damn people I call my "friends" and honestly, I do love them all, but the only reason it's even been possible is my desperation for survival." You laugh coldly and stand, the rant and your breathing becoming more erratic as it all comes tumbling out.

"Perfect Prefect? I don't have any other way to protect myself. Idia I didn't even have a phone until the THIRD overblot. THREE of the most powerful students on this campus had to try killing me for the fool of a headmaster to give me this... technological piece of shit." You toss your phone next to him on the bed. "I may not know much about this world, but I know about technology. It's different but very similar to what I used to work with in my old world..." Catching the surprised look on his pale face you can't help but laugh. "Yes yes, pitiful, magicless human knows how technology works. There's a reason that my grades keep Grimm an honor student, I'm far from stupid."

The crying resumes and laughter is mixed in as you give him a pathetic look. "Even he's attacked me, and Grimm's the closest I even have to a family in this hellscape. Idia I'm so tired." You choked up a sob and sank to your knees, back pressed against the wall now.

Unable to, refusing to look weak, you dry the tears beat you can as you answer his initial question. "What do I know about how you feel or why I interfered?" You let out a low and sad chuckle and look up to him. "Because I so desperately have needed to be saved, to be rescued and taken somewhere quiet so I could breathe that I couldn't just leave you like that. I couldn't just ignore the panic you were in." You let out a sigh and hug you knees unable to stable your breathing as much as you'd like.

"Feel free to leave or stay, do what's best for you. I'm just going to be here." You say after one minute stretches out into several. "I'd appreciate if-" Once again the Idia interrupts you, but in a much more surprising and soft way.

He embraces your trembling form, kneeling to be on the floor with you and just embraces you. He mumbled a genuine and quiet apology, stroking the back of your head. His hair provided a soft and safe warmth and glow.

You look up nearly sobbing again, and question him "Idia, will you be the friend I can be myself with? Will you give me the space to be pathetic and cry my anxiety away?" The sobs came out choked and desperate, pleading for him to be your safe space.

"Of course." He replied gently, never breaking the embrace. He gave the bed a dirty look. "First things first, we're getting you a new phone. Immediately." He grumbled unlocking his own to put in a rushed order. "There's no way you're going to be able to play games with me on that thing." He growled clicking his tongue, distaste for the headmaster evident on his face.

You burst into laughter and hugged him back, burying your face against his neck. You ignored his embarrassed noises, he didn't pull away or push you away, so he must be fine with it. "Sounds good to me." You mumble out, feeling a genuine sense of comfort from someone who finally could understand at least some of what you've been feeling for the entirety of your life.