#when they don't recognise their surroundings and panic sets in

[oddsconvert]

I've fallen down the YouTube rabbit hole of watching kidnappings for ransom in British TV shows/soaps......I must write something on this now......has occupied all my brain space

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Breathe

Pairings: James Potter x disabled!reader (Part of my poly!marauders x disabled!reader universe) Summary: You have another atonic seizure. Warnings: Chronic illness, seizures Series Masterlist

The common room is hushed, the usual bustle replaced with a late-night tranquillity that settles over the space like a blanket. Curfew has long since passed, and those Gryffindors who aren't already asleep have found their own corners of quiet, leaving you and James almost alone. You lie on your stomach by the crackling fire, textbooks open yet mostly ignored as the conversation between you flows more freely than the ink from your quills.

James sits across from you, his body folded into an easy cross-legged position. His knee brushes against yours every so often, an unconscious motion that sends warmth spreading through your veins. He's intent on the parchment before him, scribbling down last-minute thoughts for a Transfiguration essay due the next day. You watch the way his brow furrows in concentration, the soft glow of the fire catching in his tousled hair as it falls forward to shield his eyes.

You've been here for nearly an hour now—but while James continues with his work, you abandoned your own essay after the first ten minutes. The lure of the plush rug beneath you was too inviting, the heat of the fire too comforting to resist. You let out a contented sigh, closing your eyes as you sink further into the rug, the tension in your shoulders unravelling with every breath.

His gaze lifts from the pages, meeting your eyes. A shadow of a smile plays on his lips, recognising your silent admiration. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asks, setting aside the papers.

"Nothing much," you reply, a familiar warmth spreading through your chest. "Just enjoying the view."

James chuckles, a low rumble that sends vibrations through the bed. He stretches out beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. His body is a solid presence, grounding and comforting, and you fit against him as if moulded from the same clay.

"Can't blame you," he teases, confidence lacing his words. "I am pretty amazing."

You nudge him playfully, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. But it dies in your throat, replaced by a sudden tightness.

Your body goes slack, a marionette with its strings cut. You slump against James, your world tilting dangerously. The seizure lasts only a few seconds—five, maybe ten—but when it ends, you're still pressed against James, his arm now a vice around your waist. He's looking down at you, his expression unreadable. But when he speaks, his voice is calm, steady.

"Are you with me?" His voice is a steady anchor, drawing you back from the edge of panic. His thumb brushes your shoulder in a soothing rhythm. "You're safe. Just breathe."

Your eyes flutter open, taking in the familiar surroundings. The scent of wood smoke and worn leather fills the air as you listen to the crackle of fire nearby. Everything's as it should be, yet a knot of unease tightens in your chest—embarrassment, frustration, both.

You nod, swallowing against the dryness in your throat. "I'm fine," you manage to say, but the words are barely a whisper, a frail protest against the tremors still coursing through your body.

James doesn't let go. If anything, his hold on you strengthens, pulling you closer. The arm around your waist shifts so that he cradles you, a silent promise to guard against whatever unseen danger has shaken you so.

"You don't have to be fine," he murmurs, his breath warm against your hair. "Just be here. That's enough for now."

You want to argue, to insist it's nothing, that these episodes are a part of you, as familiar as the lines etched in your palms. They've been happening for years—brief, disorienting, but rarely dangerous. Yet every time they occur in the presence of another, it's like peeling back a layer of skin, revealing a raw vulnerability you'd rather keep hidden.

But James doesn’t let you hide. He doesn't look away or pretend it didn't happen, and something about his steady gaze makes it harder to hold back the swell of emotion in your chest.

"I hate this," you admit, the words a hushed confession. "I hate that you have to see it."

James's touch is gentle as he lifts your chin, insisting on eye contact. His gaze holds none of the pity you've seen in others' eyes—only understanding, and a quiet kind of resilience. "You know I don't care about that, right?" His voice is soft, a balm against the raw edges of your fear. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me. Not ever."

You bite down on your lower lip, fighting back the sting of unshed tears. "I don't want you to worry."

"Sweetheart," he says, voice gentle as a lullaby, "I'm always going to worry about you." The words are simple, straightforward, but they carry the weight of the world with them.

"Not because I think you're weak or because of your seizures. It's because I love you."

The sentiment is so unexpected, so sincere, that your breath catches in your throat. Your heart swells, threatening to burst from the sheer force of emotion that sweeps through you. You've heard those words before, but never like this—never without a hidden agenda or an unspoken expectation. His love isn't a burden; it's a lifeline, a promise.

James leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. His breath is warm, steady—a lighthouse guiding you back to reality. You draw on its rhythm, letting it ground you, anchoring you in the here and now.

"You don't have to do this alone," he whispers, close enough that you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your skin. "I'm here. We all are."

You draw in a tremulous breath, and before you can stop yourself, you're leaning towards him, your forehead coming to rest against the solid warmth of his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum beneath your ear, a grounding rhythm in a world that's suddenly spinning out of control.

James's arm curls around your shoulders, drawing you closer. His touch is light, almost tentative, as if he's afraid you'll shatter at a stronger contact. But there's an undeniable strength there—a promise of protection—that makes you want to trust him, to believe in the safety he offers.

"I-I'm sorry," you stutter, though why you apologise, you don't know.

"For what?" His voice is soft but laced with confusion. "You've done nothing wrong."

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. He's right. You haven't done anything to apologise for. You're not some broken thing, damaged beyond repair. You're just... you. And for some reason, that seems to be enough for James.

The two of you remain like this for what feels like hours, your body curled against his, the steady rhythm of his breathing a comforting lullaby. The fire crackles softly in the background, casting a warm glow over the room, but it can't compare to the warmth emanating from James—the man who sees you, really sees you, and still chooses to stay.

Eventually, your breathing evens out, matching the cadence of his heartbeat. Your voice is barely a whisper when you finally speak again, the walls around your heart crumbling piece by piece. "Thank you."

James' response is almost immediate, his fingers brushing tenderly against your skin as he places a soft kiss on your temple. "Always, love."

You don't need to say anything else—no apologies, no justifications. For now, this is enough: the silence between you filled with unspoken understanding, the strength of his arms around you promising to hold you together when you can't do it yourself.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

FUGITIVE

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing(s): Rafe x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Gun play, Injury, Cuddling, Kiss

Summary: Ward informs the authorities that Y/N is the one who shot the sheriff.

MASTERLIST

Tuesday 12:07 pm

**Attention all units, the fugitive has been spotted heading southbound towards the ferry. Any available units, please respond**

As I sprint through the tall grass, I sense my legs beginning to tremble from exhaustion. I spot the ferry in the distance and push myself to run even faster. Just as I'm on the verge of reaching it, I witness the ferry pulling away, and in that moment, it becomes clear—I am officially trapped on the island. My breath comes out in heavy gasps as I watch the ferry shrink into the horizon. 

Panic sets in, realising that my escape route has slipped away. The realisation dawns on me—I'm stranded, surrounded by the familiar landscape of the island. With every passing second, the weight of the situation becomes more apparent, and I'm left to contemplate my next move in this unexpected predicament. Suddenly hearing sirens and seeing flashing blue and red lights, the distant sounds draw closer, and a wave of apprehension washes over me. I realise that the authorities have caught up, and my chances of evading capture are rapidly diminishing. 

The once serene island now feels like a labyrinth closing in, amplifying the urgency of finding a hiding place or an alternate escape route. My thoughts run wild, “How did I get here?” I ask myself, a few tears spilling from my eyes.

Yesterday

Entering the back door of the Cameron Estate, I out pull out my phone and send a text to Sarah, inquiring about her whereabouts. However, there's no immediate response.

Deciding to find her myself, I make my way through the maze-like corridors. The house seems almost empty, with only distant sounds echoing through the hallways. Eventually, I reach Sarah's room and gently knock on the door. "Sarah? It's me. Are you in there?" I call out, hoping for a response. I walk back downstairs ready to leave when I hear people talking in the living room. I quietly walk forward, trying to hear them talk, I recognise Wards voice. 

My heart starts to race as I eavesdrop on the intense conversation unfolding in the living room. The revelation of a potentially serious situation involving Ward and a lawyer raises my concern. I discreetly inch closer to the source of the conversation, careful not to make any noise.

The lawyer's response echoes in the room, emphasising the severity of the situation. 

"Ward, it's not as easy as just waving your hand over it. This is murder, you get that right. I'm doing my best to not have you arrested for this," he asserts, making it clear that the matter at hand is grave.

Ward's frustration becomes evident as he raises his voice, "I'm paying 2 million to make this go away, why is it taking so long?" He angrily throws papers off the table, revealing his impatience and perhaps a lack of understanding of the gravity of the situation.

The lawyer, undeterred, warns Ward about the consequences. "Your my lawyer; I expect you to do something soon, or I'll have to take care of you like I did the sheriff," Ward threatens, revealing a darker side to his character and actions.

Panic sets in as you realise that my attempt to discreetly eavesdrop has been foiled by a notification. The sudden turn of events escalates when Ward, reacting swiftly, grabs my wrist and pulls me into the room. The tension in the room is palpable, especially with a gun now in play.

Ward, seemingly caught in a difficult situation, points the gun at my head. The lawyer protests, "Ward, don't do this!" The man appears to have a different plan, whispering something into Ward's ear.

Ward seems to consider the suggestion and, after a moment, holds his head and pulls me forward against him. He places the gun in my hand and then takes it back letting go, instructing me to leave. The situation is bewildering, and it's unclear what the man whispered to Ward or what their motivations might be.

Breathing heavily, I run to a safe distance from the Cameron Estate and quickly retrieve my phone. As the cool night air chills my skin, I dial Sarah's number, desperation evident in my voice as I leave a voicemail.

"Sarah, please pick up. It's urgent, and I really need to talk to you. Please call me back as soon as you get this."

Tuesday 9:00am

The night passes with uneasy quietness, my mind racing at the though of seeing Ward again. I turn on the Tv to watch Netflix when a breaking news story catches my eye. 

“One of our most beloved Sheriff’s has been shot and left for dead on the side of the road. Authorities are looking for Y/N Y/L/N who we believe ended the life of Sheriff Peterkin. We had a witness come forward this morning saying the saw her running late last night, where she was found dead. An offical manhunt is underway and we are bringing in the FBI for the investigation.”

The world around me seems to crumble, and I’m left grappling with the enormity of the accusations. The mention of an official manhunt and the involvement of the FBI add a layer of urgency and severity to the situation.

I grab a bag, throwing some clothes and water in, fuelled by a mix of fear, desperation, and the need to evade the mounting accusations, I make the gut-wrenching decision to flee as a fugitive. With the bag slung over my shoulder, I slip out of my home, leaving behind the life I once knew.

Tuesday 12:30 pm

Heart pounding, I make a split-second decision to run back through the bush. The adrenaline fuels my legs as I sprint, weaving through the trees desperately trying to put as much distance between myself and the approaching sirens. The crunch of leaves beneath my hurried footsteps echoes in my ears.

With every stride, I can sense the pursuit closing in. I risk a glance behind and catch glimpses of flashing lights through the trees. Panic intensifies, urging me to push my limits. As I navigate the uneven terrain, branches claw at me, and thorns snag my clothes, but the urgency to escape propels me forward. 

I reach the road and quickly scan the parked cars for a potential means of escape. Spotting a rock nearby, I grab it with a determined grip. With a surge of adrenaline, I make a swift move toward a car, my breath hitching as I swing the rock into a side window. The shattering glass reverberates through the quiet surroundings, and my heart races with the audacity of my actions.

As I settle into the stolen car, the realiSation hits that my desperate escape requires more than just smashing a window. Glancing around the driver's seat, I spot the exposed wires beneath the steering column. Drawing on every bit of knowledge I've gathered from movies and the unpredictability of the moment, I hesitantly reach for the wires.

Heart pounding, I strip the ends and connect them, praying that the makeshift hot-wiring will breathe life into the stolen vehicle. The distant wail of sirens intensifies, urging me to work faster. The engine responds with a hesitant sputter, then roars to life, a symphony of rebellion against the encroaching authorities.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I race through the streets, the sound of sirens blaring behind me. With the cops hot on my tail, every second counts. Frustration builds as I try to reach Sarah for help, but once again, there's no response.

I make a split-second to try contacting Rafe, hoping he might have some insight into Sarah's whereabouts. “Hey Siri, call Rafe on speaker,” with the phone now on speaker, I could hear Rafe's voice crackle through the line.

"What's up, Y/n, long time no see," Rafe greets you, his voice tinged with surprise at my sudden call.

"Rafe, have you seen Sarah? I really need to talk to her," I shout urgently into the phone, I voice strained with worry.

There's a moment of silence on the other end, broken only by the sound of the rushing wind and the distant wail of sirens. I hold my breath, hoping for a response.

Then, finally, Rafe's voice comes through, filled with concern. "I haven't seen her recently. Y/n, Is everything okay? What's going on?"

I quickly fill Rafe in on the events that have unfolded and the accusations against me. As I speak, I look into the rearview mirror, and in my moment of distraction, I fail to notice the vehicle abruptly slowing down in front of me.

I crash up the back of the car in front, the windshield smashing into pieces. The airbags deployed hitting me straight in the face. Trying to get out of the car my leg comes into to contact with a piece of hot metal and burns my calf. Pain shoots through my body, causing me to cry out in pain. 

"Y/n! Are you okay? What happened?” Rafe's voice echoes in your ears, filled with urgency and worry. With the pain coursing through my leg, I struggle to respond. Summoning all my strength, I manage to speak a response, “No, I’m not, I need to go. I’ll….I’ll call you back” I say ending the call. Staggering away from the car wreck, I hide behind a fence with overgrown bushes hanging down, just covering me from the cops only a few feet away. 

“Spread out, she can’t be far” I heard one of the cops say. More police arrive to start a search, the only option I had was to run to that alley I see about 500 metres away. I begin to crawl through the long grass, staying low enough to not be seen. The burn on my leg stings as I drag it along the dry grass. 

“Freeze, don’t move!” The cop says, pointing the gun at me, I muster up the last of my energy, lifting my body and running for the alleyway. Just as I reach the buildings, my worst nightmare unfolds before my eyes. The alley is a dead end with no escape route in sight. Panic courses through me as I realise that I've been cornered, trapped like a cornered animal with nowhere left to run.

Tuesday 4:27pm

As the officers draw closer, their authoritative commands ringing in my ears, I reluctantly raise my hands in a gesture of surrender. My heart sinks as I watch their determined advance, their expressions betraying little emotion beyond their duty to enforce the law.

Just as the officers prepare to take me into custody, the sudden cacophony of screeching tires and a roaring engine pierces the tense atmosphere. My eyes widen in astonishment as a white BMW hurtles down the street, barreling towards me at breakneck speed. The car screeches to a sudden halt, and my attention snaps to the passenger door as it swings open. “Y/n, get in!” 

Without hesitation, I seize the opportunity, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I sprint towards the car. I slide into the passenger seat, the door slamming shut behind me as the engine roars back to life.

As I glance over at the driver, a flood of relief washes over me when I see Rafe behind the wheel. With the flick of his wrist we puts the car into gear and hits the gas pedal, I grip onto the door handle tightly as we lurch into motion. 

"Thank you Rafe," I say, my voice filled with gratitude as I turn to him, "I don't know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up." Rafe offers me a reassuring smile, his eyes look at me and then back at the road. "I'm sorry this has happened to you, Y/n," Rafe's voice cuts through the tension, filled with genuine remorse. "When you called me, I was at home, and when I heard you say Ward was framing you for murder, I confronted him. He admitted it, but he threatened to implicate me as an accessory to murder if I got involved."

“So what are you doing here than?” I questioned. "I couldn't just stand by and let you face this alone," Rafe responds, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

"You're not just a friend, Y/n. I love you and...........and I wouldn’t want anything to bad to happen to you.” There's a quiet resolve in his words, a testament to the depth of our bond and the lengths he's willing to go to ensure my safety. As I meet his gaze, I grasp Rafe’s hand and lace my fingers between his.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Rafe's lips as he continues, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "Plus, I got his confession on my phone."

“What? How?” I asked manoeuvring my body to face him. Rafe's smirk widens at my incredulous reaction. "Let's just say I've learned a thing or two from you about being one step ahead," he replies cryptically, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I lean in closer, my curiosity piqued. "Seriously, how did you manage to get his confession?" Rafe's expression shifts, his smirk softening into a knowing grin. "Let's just say I have my ways," he replies, his tone teasing yet reassuring. "But trust me, Y/n, we've got everything we need to take him down."

The sound of sirens blares in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment as the police close in on our location. Rafe grits his teeth in determination, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigates tight corners and narrow alleys with expert precision. With the police closing in from all sides, Rafe's knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the road ahead for any possible escape route.

Y/n, put your seatbelt on," he instructs, his gaze unwavering as he watches me comply. I nod in acknowledgment, grateful for his concern amidst the chaos, with a quick click I fasten my seat belt.

In a split-second decision born of desperation and quick thinking, Rafe spots an opportunity—a narrow alleyway to the right, barely wide enough for the car to squeeze through. With unwavering resolve, he wrenches the wheel sharply, sending the car careening into the alley with breathtaking speed.

The sudden manoeuvre takes my breath away as the car lurches to the side, narrowly avoiding collision with the surrounding buildings. The police cars, caught off guard by the audacious move, screech to a halt, their pursuit momentarily stalled as they struggle to navigate the tight streets.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as Rafe expertly navigates the twisting alleyway, the walls closing in on either side as if threatening to swallow you whole. The sound of scraping metal and the frantic shouts of the pursuing officers fill the air, As the alleyway opens up into a wider street, I steal a glance behind and see the police cars in disarray, their pursuit thwarted by Rafe's daring manoeuvre. With a sense of exhilaration and relief washing over me, I realise that for now, at least, we’ve managed to get away.

Rafe spots a small, overgrown patch of bushes at the edge of a nearby park. Without hesitation, he veers off the road and drives the car into the cover of the foliage, the branches scratching against the car's exterior as it comes to a halt. With the engine silenced and the car hidden from view, me and Rafe exchange a tense glance. Breathless and on edge, we listen intently for any sign of the police cars, my heart pounding in my chest.

Tuesday 6:15pm

Eventually the sirens started to fade into the night I finally allow myself a moment to catch my breath. With trembling hands, I reach down to unlace my shoes, but as my fingers brush past the burn on my calf, a sharp jolt of pain shoots through my, causing me to inhale sharply.

Concern flickers across Rafe's face as he notices your distress. "Y/n, are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine worry. I force a weak smile, trying to downplay the pain coursing through me. "I'll be fine," I reassure him, though the strain in my voice betrays my words.

Without hesitation, he reaches into the backseat, rummaging through the contents until he retrieves a small first aid kit.

"Here, let's get that taken care of," Rafe says gently. I offer him a grateful nod, feeling a rush of relief at his calming presence. Rafe carefully cleans the burn, his touch gentle yet efficient as he tends to my injury. The sting of antiseptic is sharp, but it's a welcome sensation.

As Rafe wraps the bandage snugly around my calf, I feel a sense of comfort wash over me, knowing that I’m in good hands. Despite the pain and uncertainty of the night, there's a flicker of hope in your heart, buoyed by the unwavering support of my friend.

"Thank you, Rafe," you say softly, my voice filled with gratitude as I meet his gaze.

He offers me a warm smile in return, his eyes reflecting the depth of his concern. "Anytime, Y/n. We're in this together."

“We should stay here the night and then figure out what to do in the morning.” Rafe says packing up the first aid box. I nod in agreement with Rafe's suggestion, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in my bones. The events of the night have taken their toll, both physically and emotionally, and the prospect of a few hours of rest is a welcome one.

"Sounds like a plan," I reply, my voice heavy with fatigue. "I could definitely use some sleep."

“You can take the backseat, it’s comfier.” I offer Rafe a grateful smile, "Thanks, Rafe. I appreciate it." With a nod, I settle into the backseat, finding the cushions surprisingly plush beneath me.

As I settle into the backseat, I can't shake the chill that seems to seep into my bones, the night air creeping in through the cracks in the car's windows. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on my eyelids, the cold lingers, gnawing at my skin and leaving me shivering.

With a soft sigh, I glance over at Rafe, who's busy making himself comfortable in the front seat. A sudden impulse grips me, and I find myself reaching out to him, my voice small against the backdrop of the night.

"Rafe," I call softly, my breath misting in the chilly air. "It's so cold back here. Do you think... maybe you could come back and... keep me warm?"

There's a moment of hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty in Rafe's eyes, before he nods, understanding dawning on his features. Without a word, he unbuckles his seatbelt and slips into the backseat beside me, his warmth a welcome contrast to the icy air.

As he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close against his chest, I feel a rush of comfort wash over me. The cold seems to melt away in the embrace of his arms, replaced by a sense of safety and security that's all too rare in these uncertain times.

“Rafe?” as I whisper his name, his gaze meets mine with a tender intensity, his eyes reflecting the depth of emotion that mirrors my own “Yeah?” With a steady breath, I voice the words that have been lingering in my heart, knowing that in this moment, amidst the turmoil, there's no room for doubt.

“I love you too!”

With a gentle touch, Rafe tilts my chin upward, closing the distance between us until our lips meet in a tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as we melt into each-other, the world fading away until there's only the warmth of his lips against mine, the rhythm of our breaths intertwining in a silent symphony of love.

In that fleeting moment, every worry, every fear is forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that in each other's arms, we've found our sanctuary.

As we pull away, breathless and hearts racing, the echo of our kiss lingers in the air, a promise of the love that binds us together, as we hold each other close, lost in the embrace of our love, I'm reminded that no matter what challenges lie ahead, as long as we face them together, we'll emerge stronger, united by the unshakeable power of our love.

🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️

[some-beans]

Hello Author-nim! If you don't mind could you please do my request about GN!MC as Lapis from Steven Universe?

(sorry if i have grammatical mistake)

Have a good day/night Author-nim ♡

ugh i love steven universe

and i'm going to assume this is for twst, so i'll just do the overblot gang

also sorry for the long wait, some personal stuff, yk?? also this lowkey sucks

I'M NOT GONNA INCLUDE MALLUES CUZ OF SPOILERS

✎...pairing: overblot gang x lapis lazuli!reader

✎...themes: trauma, claustrophobia, mentions of past toxic

relationships, panic attacks

✎...notes: reader being a lowkey mood, can you tell

which characters are easier to write, reader is

gn with they/them in mind

✎...enjoy !!

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄

you had a feeling of what had caused his overblot

and seeing his memories and him crying like a child that only wanted his mother's love hit something deep within you

you comforted riddle ー somewhat awkwardly, mind you ー which prompted him to ask how you knew what this was

a toxic relationship

you simply just said, "i know what it's like. . . to be shackled. . ."

and riddle left it at that

he wouldn't the school to be encased by the water

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀

his roars and aggression made you remember them

just as loud and prideful

it set you off

panic filled your senses and water surrounded everyone

leona grew angry at the fact his unique magic was being washed away

but that anger was swept away like the changing tides

when he awoke from his overblot, he noticed you, back facing him but he could smell both panic and rage coming from you

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋

water

both his and your element

yet he still lost

after all, you weren't even human, to begin with, so no underwater breathing potion was needed

you could easily see through his confident facade, quickly breaking him down with your sharp words

this allowed someone to knock him out, allowing you to see his memories

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋

being controlled was something you despised

and you sort to end jamil's overblot quickly as it came

you locked him in water chains, swiftly caging him

he panicked and tried to use his unique magic on you, but you simply closed your eyes and allowed to see through the flow of water

god, why did this also remind you of them??

pushing the memories aside, you quickly made jamil unconscious and brought him back

𝐕𝐈𝐋

seeing him being obsessed with that mirror, made you reject any and all advances he made to converse with you

well, any mirror ー especially, a hand mirror ー brought back so many bad memories

countless wars and loneliness you have seen

claustrophobic and trapped, all alone

which leads you to quickly break any mirrors that vil owned, especially after his overblot

obviously, vil became upset, but seeing the look on your face whenever you looked a mirror made it click

something had happened to you in your past to make you fearful of mirrors

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀

seeing his crazy technology made you afraid

who knows what weird shit he could use to trap you once more when he was in his overblot state

this lead to you quickly lashing out and trapping him in water, effectively bringing him back down to earth

the fear was something idia recognise easily ー after all, he was filled with it

he slowly made sure not have anything that you deemed claustrophobic and trappable was nowhere in sight

[herzzgeist]

Prologue

Pairing: Law x fem!reader | Word count: 1.1k | Warnings: none

Dividers by cafekitsune

Safe to say you got his attention. The last few weeks made the surgeon of death realise things he never thought of getting into his head. Sitting at the desk of his compartment inside the Polar Tang, he tries on finishing the latest reports that began to tower over him, yet in vain.

Tired, Law's steel colored orbs shift over the papers. In annoyance he lets out a weary groan and cups his face in his hands.

There she is again. That adorable smile, that sometimes deaf inducing yet charming laughter. Oh, how you piss him off. You out of all people were on his mind. Frequently. Why? Sure you had the looks that made men's heads turn and the best part is, you didn’t even notice what effect you had on their filthy and ambiguous minds.

Heat rises into his cheeks, making him take off his white fluffy hat and set it onto the table. The dim light of an already half burnt down candle dances around the man's face. Attentively he gazes upon the little flame's unrhythmic flickering.

In a swift move his fingers wrap around the handle of the plate where the pile of wax starts to melt into, lifting it to his level. The cold steel of the submarine sends shivers down his spine. Since the heating system failed the heart pirates decided to dock at the nearest island. To their misfortune they crossed cold northern waters, arctic temperatures chilling the crew to the bone.

Law turns to the with books overflowing shelf. Literature of either medical history, anatomy, biology and even some stray book novels, all neatly stacked into the furniture, for the doctor is quite known for his tidiness. To his chagrin, there is a book sticking out like a thorn in his eye. Perplexed he flips it over to the cover: "Love for dummies.." he reads out aloud, sneering in a snort" What the-", Just when he was about to speak out a mockery, a loud thud interrupts his train of thought. Assuming it came from the corridors, Law curses under his breath and carefully sets the candle back to it's previous position, making his way outside his tank.

The heavy metal door creaks open and the raven haired man pokes out his head, cautiously stepping over the frame.

In a low voice Law calls out considering his crew is fast asleep at this hour: "Anybody here?". He figured, hearing those droning snores and steady huffs coming from the neighbour compartments, that his subordinates are completely nackered from today's work. Especially under these freezing conditions.

The hallway is badly lit by only a single faintly flickering halogen lamp, directly above the doctor's entrance. "This really should be fixed some time soon. Shachi...", he murmurs to himself, taking a mental note.

Brooms, buckets and transport boxes lie scattered on the iron floor. This must have been the source of noise that got crashed into.

Observing his surroundings, Law hears footsteps fading into the distance. A silhouette melting into the darkness: "Oi, wait! Are you alright?"

He follows down the corridor, his eyes adjusting to the blackness engulfing him. Just when he is about to recognise the person in front of him, a quickly torn open cold steel door impacts with his face.

"Captain Help! There's a spider in my quarters and-" a big white and fluffy polar bear mink storms out, his paws thrown into the air and screaming in panic. Bepo, Law’s Vice Commander, wearing blue pyjamas with snowflakes on it, stops in his tracks as he sees his Captain staggering in place holding his face. One could clearly tell the man is counting stars, disoriented by the impact. The mink gasps and grabs the doctor by his shoulders: "Captain! Stay with me! Don't go into the ligh-" - „How many times do I have to tell you to open that door carefully, Bepo!"

Taken aback by the harsh voice confronting him, his whole body sacks in and his round ears droop meekly, mumbling a deep: "I'm sorry".

The sudden vibe change in the bear‘s behaviour has always been a curious phenomenon, Law can't fully put a finger on it. Nevertheless, he thinks it is quite a quirky and amusing display of character.

Slowly coming back to his senses, the doctor shakes off the disorientation and gives his companion a salty look: "Bepo, I‘ll get a concussion if this keeps on..."'A soft sigh leaves his lips seeing the polar bear show casing his biggest puppy eyes he can muster. Tension grits around Laws jaw, leaving him annoyed yet slighty flustered. "Stop being a baby! It's fine! Did you hear a loud thud too a few minutes ago?" - " Aye Captain! It woke me up, but when I was about to check it out a spider crawled onto my bed! I hate spiders!" How can such a strong and intimidating creature be afraid of eight legged insects?

It leaves Law rather dumbfounded, but he waves it off nonchalantly: "So I suppose you didn’t see anyone walking by this corridor either?" Bepo shakes his head.

Curious. Law could‘ve sworn he saw a silhouette wandering down the hall. Confused he exhales loudly and turns back to his fluffy Vice Commander: "Go back and take some rest the last few hours before dawn. We’ll need you fit and healthy by tomorrow!" - "Aye aye Captain! You can count on me..." Not sure how this is biologically possible, but the bear just fell asleep standing on the spot.

A snot bubble coming out of his stubby nose, expanding and receiding to the rhythm of his calmed breathing.

It makes Law smile softly, snorting at this sight: "Not here Bepo"'-"I'm sorry“.

The mink answered in his sleep with that uncharacteristically deep voice again, for the man guiding him back to his bed only shakes his head to his amusement.

When heading back to his own compartment, the doctor couldn’t help but wonder who that person practically running away from his own Captain was. Was it a hallucination? Impossible, otherwise Bepo wouldn’t have heard that sound too. Perhaps an intruder? That wouldn’t make any sense, the shadow went the wrong way for it to escape. Besides, the Polar Tang is locked from the in- and outside.

No matter, he’ll find out soon enough. And even after that little adventure, at this point, the surgeon af death takes some well deserved rest aswell . Hissing after his hand touched his buzzing forehead he mumbles in a sigh: "That's gonna leave a big bump.“

[bluewavesofchange]

The guardians of the Pharaoh

The rise of a new darkness

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters

Chapter 13

 

Back in Egypt…

 

Clarity loved watching her sweet little host grow into a fine and kind young man. Despite a few harsh encounters from some of the other servants he still carried his beautiful smile and tried his best to help others. She adored him; he was everything she would want in a successor and an heir. But she would not take him away from this world, this was his home and she wouldn’t rob the humans of Heba’s light. She believed he could bring peace and prosperity to this world and guide it into a new millennia of light.

 

The other person she watched was the prince Atem, he was courageous and strong, he had a kind heart and firm will…everything a great leader should be. However she recognised her sister’s influence in the boy, the magic she taught him and the darkness he could control. She would admit it was…impressive…sort of. She wasn’t a fan of how he would use it to intimidate others…even if it was to protect Heba…the prince was obsessed with his look alike and that could be a dangerous thing.

 

However she couldn’t deny the joy on the boy’s faces when they spent time together. They brought the best out of each other and she could see the love they had for each other even if they were not ready to admit it to each other yet. Love was something Clarity never had the chance of knowing. She had spent her life with her people and the creatures she protected and gave life to. She loved them and never felt the need for a companion…but watching Heba and Atem made her realise what she was missing out of…the small moments that was reserved just for the two of them, the night that they would read poetry to each other, spending their nights in their little garden just watching the stars, the days that Atem would sneak away to watch his little servant bake in the kitchen (going so far as to steal some of the sweet treats Heba was known for making) and the small gifts they would leave each other.

 

With each passing day they grew closer and closer together, a beautiful unbreakable bond blooming between them…a bond that was nearly lost to the cruelty of human greed.

 

Clarity tried to do something, anything to save her host from being dragged away by the cruel guards but the fear Heba was feeling was putting up a block between them. She could only watch as he was chained and whipped for trying to defend himself against a vixen of a woman…she could only watch as they held him down and tried to cut out his tongue…the light of his soul dying out…and the release of darkness that exploded from Atem’s broken heart when he discovered his beloveds mutilated body…

 

There was only one thing that Clarity could do as the kingdom was enveloped in shadows…

 

She slowly merged her soul with the humans, wrapping herself around the last fading lights of his life…

 

Heba found himself floating amongst a sea of white clouds and an endless blue sky. He doesn’t understand as he looks around, he was just chained in the basement surrounded by cruel guards that were finding pleasure in his suffering. He remembered they tried to take out his tongue, the excruciating pain and blood running down his throat threatening to choke him. But now he felt…nothing…just weightlessness…

 

He looked down and saw a dark cloud enveloping the kingdom, screams of fear and panic fills his ears but also something else…

 

“Hello little one.”

 

Heba turned and saw a woman with long golden hair dressed in a flowing off the shoulder white dress, a set of large white feathered wings behind extruded from her back, moving gracefully in the wind and her amethyst eyes shone like brilliant gems. She had a soft kind smile on her face, “We finally meet my sweet Heba.” He looked at her confused as he floated towards her, “Who…who are you? Where…are we?” she reached over and took his hand in hers, “My name is of no importance anymore…but know that I have been by your side since the day you first took breath. I have watched you grow and turn into the beautiful soul I knew you would always become. But as for where we are…” she turned her attention to the shadows below, “We are miles away from your body…for you are dying my precious boy.” a tear runs down her cheek as she moves a few of the boys bangs out of his face.

 

Heba’s eyes grow wide as he shakes his head, “N…no…no…I can’t be…” he tears up as he looks down at the kingdom, his thoughts instantly going to his father who would be alone now…and what about Atem? He couldn’t leave him alone…he needed him…He needed to go back but…how?

 

Clarity pulled him into her arms and held him, “Do not worry little one. I do not plan on letting you leave this world…” he looked up at her, his cheeks wet with tears as she smiled at him, “You Heba are something truly special. Your kindness…your heart…your spirit…all of you is a beautiful and unique. You are a light that can heal this world…you can bring so much peace and joy to this place…” the white feathers start to float off her wings.

 

“There isn’t much time to explain everything but I am willing to give you my life so that you can live…and continue to live for eons to come…to become a beacon of hope and light for the generations to come…but I must warn you, this gift comes with a price…” she caressed his cheek softly as she wipes away the boys tears.

 

Heba didn’t understand. He didn’t know why this was having or what was going on but she was offering him another chance at life…however what was this price she was talking about? He wanted to ask but heard a wail of agony coming from below…he knew that voice…she could feel the pain and sorrow vibrating through his very soul…it was his prince, the other half of his heart…he could leave him alone, he didn’t want to leave him behind…not without telling him he loved him…

 

He looked at the woman who held him and nodded. She smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the boys forehead, “Then I will give my life to you, may you live it with happiness and pride…may my light always be a guiding beacon in darkest times and may you always wear that precious smile on your face.” She a single tear runs down her cheek before the space is engulfed in light…

 

Heba doesn’t remember much after he woke up several days later with Atem by his side…his eyes forever a different colour and a power that ran through his veins that he had yet to unlock until 5000 years later…

 

Back to the present.

 

Seto had eventually gotten out of bed and got dressed, heading to his room for a quick shower, leaving Lillian to sleep for a little while before the start of the finals. He would’ve insisted that she remain in her room and rest even longer but he knew she would want to be there to support himself and her brother and her friends too of course. He still needed to figure out how to deal with Marik…maybe he would get lucky and end up duelling him in the finals…and he could throw him off the aircraft when he beats the weasel.

 

He got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and stood in front of the mirror for a moment, wiping the steam from the glass revealing his reflection. He noticed the mark Lillian had left on his skin, running his fingers over his throat before smirking to himself before going to get dressed.

 

He pulled on his spare white coat and grabbed a spare black shirt from the closet, it would be a bit too big for Lillian but there was nothing else for her to wear since her shirt was ruined. He pushed back the images of her wounded flesh in his mind, not wanting to think about it now.

 

He made his way back to her room, slowly opening the door and peering inside. The lights were off but the full moon was shining in through the window, its pale glow dancing over Lillian’s skin…the tattoos on her arms glowing softly, reminding Seto of the creatures you find at the bottom of the sea with their bioluminescence colours. It was the most unusual and yet beautiful thing Kaiba gad ever seen.

 

He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. Walking over to the girls behind before sitting beside her, watching her while she slept. She had such a look of peace on her face despite the day she had had. He ran his fingertips over her cheek as soft mumble leaving her lips as her eyes slowly started to open. He didn’t mean to wake her up but it was time to get going anyways, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, “About time you woke up sleeping beauty.”

 

She groaned as she rolled over to hide her face in the pillow making him chuckle, “You really aren’t a morning person aren’t you?” Lillian turned her head slightly and glared at him, “That comment would only make sense if it was morning.” She gave him a weak shove as she tried to sit up. He shook his head as he helped her, his hands lingering on her glowing arm admiring the intricate designs on her skin.

 

“Are you ever going to tell me how or why you got these?” he asks softly as he runs his finger over one of the images, his nail ever so lightly scraping the lines. She looked down at her arms and raised a brow when she noticed they were glowing, “That’s weird…but then again everything about them is weird.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He tilted his head as his gaze met hers, “Because right now you look like glowing jelly fish.” Lillian glared at him and grabbed her pillow, smacking him with it. Seto smirks as he takes the pillow from the girl, “I’m being serious…you never really talk about them…it’s like you hate them…” she sighed softly, “You won’t believe me if I told you…”

 

“Hey…” he rested his hand on her cheek, “…Give me a little more credit.” She leaned into his touch, looking deep into his eyes, “They just…appeared one day…”

 

She explained what happened the day the markings appeared on her arms, the strangeness with the water that burst from the ground and enveloped her, how it felt like her skin was being sliced open by millions of tiny blades, how she passed out and then woke up with her arms hurting and coated in these tattoos that she never wanted…

 

“…and that’s about it. And ever since then these weird things that have been happening around me just keeps getting worse…”

 

He listened to her story and she sounded…crazy…just more of this magic mumbo jumbo nonsense that everyone is trying to shove down his throat. However looking at the soft glow on his girlfriend’s skin…and the miraculous way she ended up at the platform and stayed under the water for so long…

 

“We back on the water story again?” he asks as he stands up. Lillian frowns as she raises her hand, the water in the jug that stood on the nightstand floats out of the glass container and floats up into the air, hovering over the brunets head, “What does this look like to you?” he glances up at the water floating over his head.

 

Ok…what the heck? There’s not hologram machines in the room, he was sure he wasn’t hallucinating…so what was this? Lillian moved her hand slowly, guiding the water around in a few swirls, spending it float around Seto before taking the shape of a dolphin, swimming around in the air, doing tricks and little flips. The tall teen’s face turned to wonder as he watches, holding out his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the creature before it jumped over his head and dived back into the jug.

 

He turns to look at Lillian, a soft expression on her face, “I know you don’t believe in magic and I understand why you don’t believe in the supernatural or other world things but…there are just some things in this world that can’t be explained through science and logic…and unfortunately I’m one of those things…” she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs, “…I wish I understood why this is happening or what is going on with me but I can’t…and I know it’s hard for you but—“

 

“Enough…” Seto speaks softly as he sits beside her again, resting his hand over hers and staring deep into her blue eyes, “…Whatever is going on…we’ll work through this…together.” A soft smile forms on his face, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing but then again he always found a way to surprise her. She leaned forward and kissed him softly, “You are beyond words Seto Kaiba.” He smirks as he returned the kiss, “I know I am.” Lillian rolled her eyes and shoved him away, “Dick.” He laughs as he pulls her into his arms and kissed her forehead, “I am but I’m your dick.” She rolls her eyes but can’t help but smile up at him, “Since when were you so corny?” she shook her head as she stroked his cheek, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” He said softly as he rested his forehead against hers…wishing that they could stay like this for a while longer…not knowing the tragedy that was about to unfold that night…

 

It all started with the first duel of the night…Yami vs Bakura or rather the spirit of the Millennium ring.

 

Everyone was led to the top of the zeppelin where the dual area had been built…who ever designed this thing was a mad man (obviously it was Seto). Lillian even went as far as to making a comment about the impractical design of the aircraft to which he just gave her an eye roll.

 

The watched the duel between Yami and spirit of the ring commence and it seemed like the white haired boy had the upper hand…until Yami was able to summon Slifer…the large red serpent like dragon wrapped around the aircraft. It was incredible to witness, everyone could feel the power radiating it…reaching deep within Lillian’s mind and rousing Rozu from her slumber…coming out as a shadow to gaze at the magnificent beast…and seeing a familiar face standing the opposite of the pharaoh.

 

It was in that moment that Marik had arrived, Seto automatically pulled Lillian and Mokuba behind him while Joey, Tristian and Duke were on guard. The cloaked man put on some kind of show, making it seem like he was releasing Bakura from whatever spell he was under…Rozu watched this and knew something didn’t seem right…she knew he man claiming to be Marik wasn’t the one in charge, he reeked of servitude. So she decided to investigate…

 

 The spirit of the Millennium ring was listening to Marik in his mind, watching as his host was beginning for help. He could feel how weak Bakura’s soul was…he could lose the boy and have his body all to himself...it would solve all his problems but…he had to admit he had grown…attached to the boy…

 

Marik was laughing in his mind when he suddenly disappeared, another figure appearing behind him, one made of shadows and glowing golden eyes, “Well well…it’s been a long time…thief.” She smirked, exposing her elongated fangs. The spirit snarled as he turned to her, “Who are you?! How did you get in here?” she laughs as she swirls around him, “We may have never been formally introduced but I know you very well…after all…I was there every encounter you had with the pharaoh…ever instance you fought against his dark powers…”

 

She licked her lips as she whispered in his ears, making him growl as he tried to swing at her but she quickly dissipated between his fingers, traveling over to Ryou and resting her hands on the trembling boys shoulders. The spirit narrows his eyes, “What do you want?”

 

“You are up to something aren’t you thief?” she purrs as she runs her fingers through Ryou’s hair, before gripping it tightly making him whimper loudly. “You have a vendetta against the pharaoh…but I can’t let you get near him until my own plans come to be…” the spirit laughs as his from turns to a smirk, “Not a chance! I’ve waited 5000 years for my revenge and no one’s getting in my way.”

 

Rozu smirked as she yanks the poor weak white haired oy to his feet, grabbing hold of his throat, her claws digging into his flesh, drawing blood, “Then allow me to get rid of this little obstacle.” She sneered at the spirit as she whispered against her victims cheek, her forked tongue sticking out and licking over his skin, “It’s been eons since a soul so sweet and innocent past my lips.”

 

The spirit clenches his fists and growls, “Let him go!”

 

“But why? If he’s gone then you have body of your own…” she tightens her grip on Ryou’s throat as the boy gasps for air. The poor boy looked at the spirit, weakly raising a hand and tries to reach for his other half, “Pl…please…” he tears up.

 

The spirit hated this, he could easily let the boy die and he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing a body with anyone again…however…he didn’t want to lose Ryou…even if he didn’t understand why, “Fine! I will back off! Just let him go.” Rozu chuckles as she drops the boy, the spirit rushing over to him and holding him close as he lose consciousness.

 

“Good boy. If all goes well I’ll give you what’s left of the pharaoh once I’m through with him.” Rozu laughs as she leaves Bakura’s mind…watching from the shadows as the spirit protects his host from Silfer’s attack…

 

Once Yami was declared the winner, Bakura was rushed to med bay where the doctors try to treat him…

 

The next duel was between Marik and Joey…or as it turned out Odion and Joey. Yep, as Joey was nearly going to lose Odion, the scar faced man tried to summon a fake version of the Egyptian god card of the Winged Dragon of Ra…but the card went haywire and someone created an electrical storm that threatened the safety of the people on board the zeppelin…both Joey and Odion were struck by lightning but Joey was the only one who managed to stand up…Odion ended up in a coma…

 

And unfortunately Marik’s dark half came to the surface…threatening the lives of everyone on the aircraft as he was unhinged and completely psychotic…unlike Marik, this thing was out for blood and unfortunately somebody paid that blood in full a few hours later…

 

 

Seto was standing in front of the med bay doors, listening to the doctors and nurses rushing about inside…the world felt like it had slowed down…looking down at the blood coating his hands…the thick red liquid staining his trembling fingers…he didn’t hear the people approaching him as all he could hear was his heart beat in his ears…someone speaks up…”Kaiba?”…he looks up seeing Yugi and his group of friends…the short teens face expressing nothing but fear and confusion, his body shaking as there were tears forming in his eyes…

 

“Wh…where’s Lillian?”

[qsmp-a1-updates]

For egg event, ending is rushed sorry.

Angharad might be lost. Just a little! 

They’d been with one of their many parents; simply watching ce fixing one of the machines around outside cir house. It’s not their fault they had got bored.

It had been easy, really, to leave the garden. They only have to scale one of the trees, one that their Mama had said was really old. It was droopy and did the job though. They dropped to the floor, and looked around. 

They know that the entire house was surrounded by forest, they could see it from their bedroom window. Still, they don't know how dangerous it is. Their Mama had never told them it was dangerous, only warned them about the few animals that were no different from the ones that they had encountered with their other parents. But just because ce had never told them about the dangerous, doesn't mean there aren't any.

It seems safe though; the grass is soft under their feet, and they can hear the birds chirping slightly in the background. But Angharad isn't foolish, is anything but foolish, so they stay wary.

It's fun to adventure by themself for once; not having a worried adult to control where they can go. They understand of course, and there's no bitter feelings for the things their parents have to do to keep them safe. In fact, Angharad thinks that the amount of times that their parents have saved them from danger has only increased the amount of love that they hold for them.

They start walking, away from the fence and into the trees; they walk in the same direction as the sun, so that when they have to go back, it’s as easy as walking in a straight line away from the sun.

They're not sure how they managed it then. One moment they had been surrounded by flowers; they didn’t know the name, but they didn't recognise it as one of the poisonous ones that inhabited the island. The petals were soft under their touch as well, blue shinning in the sunlight that peaked through the trees. They decide then that the blue flowers are their favourite. They start to pick a few, bunching the stems into their hands so that they can take them home and show them to their parents. 

It happens quickly. They blink, flowers still grasped tightly and it’s night. Not the kind of night that their parents point out stars in, but a kind of black that devours colours and light and makes Angharad’s blood freeze. It’s the same feeling that they get when they see the white box, the cramped space where their heart beat fills the walls and a heat that seeks to destroy every bit of them. 

They need to leave. Now.

The birds have left, set flight in a panic and escaped into the sky. Angharad wishes they could do the same, set flight like the birds or burrow into the ground like the worms of turn and face the danger like their parents would. Angharad is scared. They want their parents, any of them. Want them to find them and pull them into a hug and be disappointed at them for running off on their own. They don’t even know what the danger is and yet they are terrified.

They pull a sword out of their inventory, shiny and slightly dull from dragging in the ground and covered in stickers. Angharad knows how to fight, but their hands shake and they can feel unnecessary tears starting to blur in their eyes. There’s no way that they are going to win this fight, an unperfect parasite that sucks resources and time out of their parents and can’t even defend itself. They wipe at the tears that have started to leak out of their eyes and pushes the thoughts away. 

They hear it, a low groan thats in their ear and also behind them and is everywhere. Theres a vibrant green in the corner of their eye, and any hope that they had is dragged out of their bones. The code has spotted them, and all they can do is run.

The code is behind them. Each hit it lands forces the air out of their lungs and the blood out of their viens. They are going to die. They are going to die and it’s going to be all their fault. Their parents will cry and it’s going to be their fault. Their parents. They’d give anything to be able to see all of them one last time. To be able to hug them and be happy. That’ll never happen now, all thanks to them. The code is behind them, and they can feel the sword slash at their back as they tumble to the ground. 

There’s yellign, and for a moment, a dreaded moment, they believe that the code has stolen their parents voices. A mocking comfort in their last few seconds that only brings tears into their eyes. But no, from behind the code, the sickly green illuminating the forest, they can see blurs of colour, and their parents voices calling out to them. They can only mange a weak cry before their parents are on them and the code, tearing away at it and pulling them into a hug. They scared. So scared. But they know that their parents are there. They fall asleep bleeding and safe.

Ohhhh oh gosh :( the child

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Buggy - The Balerina in the Circus

warning : some dark themes, minors don't read, kissing, Buggy could be seen as a yandere, obsession, implied falling in love, touching without consent, blood, flirting, no use of Y/n

masterlist

Info : So finally it's done it took longer then I had planned but so is life unfortunately I don't like it that much but maybe you dear reader. As always have fun reading :)

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

In the small village, the small, quiet, beautiful, friendly village, everything was just fine. There were no quarrels about territory, no one simply subjugated the other out of greed, and for a long time there were no pirates on the island. It was normal and happy, the inhabitants had a friendly and helpful community.

There were schools, shops, greengrocers, bars and small workshops. There was also a small dance school in the village, a dance school for all those who wanted to learn ballet. A dance art that quickly caught on, especially with the children, who overran the young teacher's studio every weekend.

Under the direction of a young woman who came to the island a few years ago in search of a home and was happily accepted by the kind mayor. She helped where she could and the village was a solid community.

A community that exuberantly enjoyed the performances of the ballet group and always had an annual festival. They welcomed everyone and were happy when someone stayed. It was a colourful and above all peaceful community.

A community that was to break up any day when the first shots were fired on their island. Fear and panic broke out faster than expected and the mayor tried to get everyone to safety.

But the ways of escape were already limited, the boats and ships to which they all fled were set on fire and destroyed. ,,It-It can't be," she heard the mayor mutter as the people watched in horror as the group of freaks climbed off the big ship. Just destroying one house after another and turning everything into chaos - chaos that hurt all the more.

As if the life they had built for themselves, the happiness and joy, was nothing to these brutals.

That the homeland was destroyed before their eyes. This piece of peace was destroyed. One house after another was destroyed and the crying sounds of the inhabitants and the sounds of fear increased.

Children cried and held on to their siblings, mothers stood in front of their children and fathers stood in front of their families, but they knew once they saw the flag of the skull there was no escape.

More and more they all tried to retreat but as the circus group surrounded them from behind they all slowly seemed to understand that there was no way out.

They were trapped. ,,Don't take another step" she warned and although fear was running through her body she wanted to show strength. She was among the inhabitants and saw the pure overwhelm and panic in the mayor's eyes as she stood protectively in front of her home, in front of the people who had welcomed her so dearly.

Even if she had no chance, she would at least take the first thing that came and perhaps, perhaps it would help.

The only thing she had taken with her in fear as her thoughts turned to the protection of her home and friends, was her sword. Her hand went down to her belt and grasped the handle of the weapon.

She felt the cold that seemed to coincide with her comfort.The cool leather of the handle, so rarely used and yet the reassurance that she could pull it if she had to.

But as the pirates approached and a large circus tent built up in the background, the villagers sensed that it was far from over. ,,Looks like we have met our audience. People, clear the ring, we've got customers!" one of the pirates with a hat and clown make-up called out, a man she recognised.

A man she knew was dangerous. ,,Buggy the Clown" his name escaped her lips and the strength she had mustered seemed to leave her. The sword that had been light in her hand now seemed as heavy as lead. But she kept it up and stood a metre in front of her new family and tried to protect them. To protect them despite the fear.

Because this grimace, this grin, the red nose and this terrible shrill laughter seemed to demand everything from her body, not to shake.

A grin appeared on the clown's red painted lips as he laughed, ,,I see you know me...always nice to be known by pretty things" he replied and slowly approached her, his eyes never leave her and not a thought about the sword, as if she were so much more attention-grabbing for the clown.

Knowing that the more he advanced in a carefree manner, the closer he would get to her fear, her inner true self. The young woman who had caught his attention. ,,Can you give us a show? As a tribute to a new performance?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, the blue pom-poms on his hat wobbling slightly.

He made an inviting gesture with his fingers in his white gloves, the white fabric slightly stained with blood and dirt, and she looked back into his eyes, which glared at her with amusement. He knew of her fear, knew of her reluctance and that made all this so much better.

His greenish grey eyes were only on her.

He had already seen or at least guessed at some of the residents' “talents”. But something like this surprised even the clown, a balerina on a lonely island in the middle of the sea ,,I won't let you hurt them!" she said to him, hardly realising that her voice was trembling and full of uncertainty.

But it was all the same, she had chosen her show and the show he would get he would enjoy to the full. Whether it was her body position that he only needed to look at, her body longer to know what she could do, or something more intuitive. It didn't matter because she knew that when the walls of the raised circus tent closed, there would be an attraction.

,,Come on, gorgeous, let's see what you can do," said the clown and his crew seemed to enjoy what was happening. When he twisted a strand of her hair between his fingers and she jerked away from him several times as he came close, smelling the mixture of alcohol and blood and the red in his face reminded her of the grey that lay outside the tent. How long would the new show last before she realised there was no escape?

The stories they had heard about him were notorious and dangerous, his flag was infamous and even if they didn't know him personally, they knew what he looked like. His powers...let it be just rumours, she thought as she unsheathed her sword. The blade reflected in the setting midday sun over the tent as she positioned herself with the blade, knowing that he wanted something else from her but you couldn't kill someone with Balett...or at least try to.

The flash of the blade made the clown giggle, a giggle that once again drove her heart forward with fear. She had practised here and there, made friends and saved a few lives on her travels before she realised how dangerous the world was and wanted to settle down in peace. But Devil Fruit user-no, that was something a sword could not kill no matter how long she had travelled, as soon as your opponent got this devilish power you were dead.

It had always been enough until now.

But everyone involved realised that it would be over now. She had no chance. Her gaze wandered from his team, who grinned at her, to her destroyed home, which could be seen from time to time in the open tent flap fluttering in the wind.

Buggy moved a few metres away from her, laughing, ,,Give me all of you, sweetie!" he shouted, seemingly happy to take the village's last honour by defeating her. There was no turning back. Gripping the sword hilt tighter in her hands, she took one last breath before running towards him and lunging.

The blade would hit, she was sure of that, she was sure it would hit. At the angle, if he didn't dodge, which he didn't seem to do, it would slash him from the shoulder up. I just have to make it, she thought as the blade sliced through his body. An excited noise escaped the inhabitants as they thought she had hit him and cheered their friend on.

She herself thought she had hit, a clean cut through the chest. But if she hit him, why wasn't he bleeding? Why didn't he scream? Why didn't he die? Why the hell didn't he go to the ground if she had cut him? A giggle could be heard from the clown's red lips as he suddenly began to float and fear rose up in her.

The sword fell from his body and his upper body simply straightened up again. ,,The rumours are true," she heard the mayor shout, looking at her with concern, rumours that were only ever thought to be whispers, but now she saw the devil before her.

,,No…it can't be,’ she gasped as she was shaken with fear, knowing now that they had lost everything, from her sword lying on the ground, to her home and hope as those stormy eyes looked at her with a hunger that seemed to close around her the longer she was with him.

Everyone now knew that the stories and rumours were true. ,,Oh yes dear…and now it's my turn!" the pirate captain announced cheerfully, separating his hands from his body suddenly and letting one of them fly around while the other gripped his belt.

The knives flashed in the sun and she knew this was not a good sign. ,,Show me how well you can dance," he challenged her, and the hand with the knife shot towards her as if commanded by magic, but missed her by only a few moments if she hadn't jumped to the side, the knives now stuck in her chest.

But she had just dodged the knife, rolled to the ground and had her sword back in her hand as she got to her feet when she remembered his second hand too late.

No sooner had she turned round than she felt a punch right in the face, pain spreading and making her stagger, before she could even raise her sword through her tear-stained eyes she was hit by another blow that knocked her to the ground.

It hurt and her vision blurred as she tried to get up and keep fighting, the hard ground hadn't cushioned her landing and she saw the shadow looming over her too late ,,Good night, my little dancer," the clown chuckled before she fainted with a final blow and became his own next performance.

The fainting was slowly replaced by pain in the darkness, a pain as her body processed the blows she had received from him and as she slowly opened her eyes again.

She hadn't realised how the clown had picked her up from the floor. How he had looked at her unconscious body with that wide excited grin, throwing her over his shoulder, his gloved hands stroking her body, the flesh of her thighs, her well-formed ass and a pinch on her cute nose.

The grin on his face only widened and he amused himself as he initiated the rest of the conquest and takeover. Before his troupe took over the village to afford new spectators, as his circus always seemed to be sold out. They should all consider themselves lucky to have a ticket. Especially as he had prepared a nice new trick with a dancer.

The headache she felt first was more painful than expected and after an initial uncomfortable painful noise she opened her eyes blinking several times. She tried to shake off the tiredness and the stiffness of her body, which hadn't moved for several hours.

,,What the…" she mumbled, touching her throbbing head as she carefully stood up and tried not to land on the floor again. She swayed slightly, but eventually caught herself and realised that luckily it wasn't a bump on her head and her nose wasn't broken after the blow that had brought tears to her eyes.

Above all, the pain almost made her forget that she was no longer outside. That there was no sun, no moon and no stars above her. She was inside the circus tent. Despite the real darkness, she waved her arms around slightly to see if anyone was with her. But wherever she was now, she seemed alone, completely alone.

As if she had lost everything she had built up. As she hastily grabbed her side the next moment, she realised with an inner curse that the clown had probably taken the sword and she had no weapon and no way to help her out.

Trying to look around the large darkened tent proved difficult. But just as she dared to take her first steps, the light suddenly flicked on. Blinking, she realised with an uneasy feeling that she was standing in the middle of the ring, surrounded by spectators who were her fellow dancers, friends, neighbours and the people she called her family,

They were all chained to the benches and with his crew on the other side, escape was impossible. She seemed to belong to him. ,,Welcome to my new show!" she heard the older one call cheerfully, and she turned to the captain.

He seemed to be sitting on his throne almost like a king, his legs draped over one back and his body resting against the other. Buggy rested his head on his fist while his other free hand pointed at her. His white gloves that had been running over her body before, but only he knew that. He alone knew what he was going to do with her.

His ballerina.

Before her friends suddenly started cheering and clapping as one of the crew members held up a sign. But the cheering, the sounds of actual anticipation gave her goosebumps. It seemed more like a sad cautious laugh that made the atmosphere almost creepy.

But in this atmosphere there was one thing she saw and felt clearly. His gaze on her, his eyes that didn't leave her, the grin that grew wider and wider and the feeling inside her when she saw him sitting there that she couldn't seem to get away from him.

Like the clown, he was watched by his audience, she was his very own audience and vice versa, he was hers. Whereby his watching was what seemed to guide her, seemed to instruct her what she was allowed to do and what not…she was his perfect dancer on strings. ,,Shooting dance!" he announced the trick loudly for all to hear, before he suddenly had several daggers in his free hand, which he threw at her.

She reacted too late and jumped to the side as before, but one of the daggers left a cut on her side. He played the same game as before, but with a greater death intention than before, he wanted to show everyone that he made her dance and move and not her. ,,A ballerina, ladies and gentlemen, doesn't she move gracefully?" he asked the crowd, who agreed with him and cheered again as the next knives flew towards her, leaving her unable to catch her breath.

She rolled to the side as she heard the slow, soft music and realised that he really wanted to see her dance. You'll regret it, she thought and took the starting position as she straightened up, watching him giggle and his bright eyes roam over her body, probably satisfied that she was beginning to understand, not caring that her side was stained with blood and the cut hurt.

Before she set her body in motion, she didn't take her eyes off him, but still pulled back in time to avoid the knife as much as possible as he pursued her with it. She had to do her piruettes, side jumps, elegant movements faster and faster in every direction, the music barely a help as her body ached. The more pressure he put on her with his power, the more mistakes she made, the more she was cut and the more she held herself under the light.

What should have been a perfect jump caused her to lean away, because otherwise she would have landed on the tip of the dagger. and she landed hard on the ground ,,She's more agile in private…I'm sure she is, isn't she?" he asked her, continuing to make fun of the fact that he had almost cut off her foot.

The look that lingered briefly on her rapidly rising and falling chest told her that he had other things on his mind. He knew the torture was the perfect mix of fear, anger and pain and he enjoyed it so much more than she did.

The perfect act for him to watch her dance, her body in motion, her will slowly fading away and most of all her clothes slowly but steadily disappearing as more and more of them broke with each cut. She turned and tried to put her arms protectively around herself, but they were covered with more cuts that bleed more and more.

Blood that landed more and more in small streams on the floor through her movements, but her eyes did not leave his, they stayed on him and her fast heartbeat seemed to almost match his excited one.

But the longer they played this game the harder it became for her to deflect the blades. As good as she was, it was her fears and feelings that made her lose. After another throw of the knife, she hissed as she felt the cut on her cheek. Not fatal, but any further movements would open the wound and it seemed to be the end of her role when she saw his disappointed look.

A disappointed shake of the head came from the clown as he placed his hand back on his body. ,,As you can see, my ballerina still needs some private training…preferably with me all alone", giggled the clown and with a flick of his fingers it suddenly went dark again in the tent.

Leaving her seemingly standing while she held her wounds, her rapid heartbeat and the feeling of being watched not abating. But what worried her even more was that the crying of the villagers had stopped. They were no longer crying and the only thing she seemed to hear was her own heartbeat. Her own excited heartbeat.

She was alone with him.

,,Private hours how scandalous don't you think?" she heard his amused but much calmer...almost seductive voice in her ear. She hadn't seen him coming, hadn't heard him and hadn't seen him.

As she tried to turn around, her arms were grabbed by his hands and his warmth spread to hers. Buggy had taken off his gloves and was tracing small circles over her goosebumped arms, as he held her painfully, his body leaning against her tense one, delighting in every reaction he caused in her.

Uncertainly she nodded, not knowing if she should say anything or whether he wanted her to remain silent. She winced as he pressed his finger suddenly into her wound.

Letting more blood escape from the cut, he lightly smeared it on her arm, her trembling with the effort of not wanting to scream, not wanting to give him that satisfaction as he pressed against her again without shame, not letting go of her.

She suddenly felt his lips on the cut on her cheek. Her blood seemed to match his smeared lipstick, the same dark, the same dark love and devotion giving her an even more uncomfortable moment.

,,Let go," she demanded in a whisper as he pressed his cheek against hers, his head resting on her shoulder, seeming to pierce her with his gaze. He placed his tongue on the wound, licking away the blood that threatened to flow from the cut. He savoured her taste and her fear, in her head like a joke that came over and over again, a joke without being funny.

Something the clown found hilarious on his own. ,,Now, in that case, we're ready to start," he grinned, whirling her around the next moment. He grabbed her hands and took over without giving her a choice. The steps he took towards her pushed her backwards and she had to get involved in the unknown dance in order not to fall.

She wouldn't even call it a dance, it was more like a twirl, which the clown took advantage of by running his hands over her body. Taking advantage of her tension, her ignorance of the ‘dance’, he joined his hands with hers, stroking her side and pinching her lightly, giggling at the startled sounds she made as she was overwhelmed by the whole situation.

His fingers on her breasts always lingered for too short a moment when he pulled her against him ,,Soft as pillows," he had laughed as if it were the best joke. As she whirled around, she kept hearing his giggles and murmurs, which disappeared into the blurred surroundings.

Before Buggy brought her to a sudden stop, sliding her hand over his torso, letting her feel the muscles underneath and his comment ,,Hard as steel" was probably meant as a joke or a bad pick-up line. But in the face of his strength and where she was, it all seemed more like a threat than anything else.

The suggestive touches jokes and words kept reaching her. Her heartbeat and feelings only became more confused, everything was so wrong and yet that voice, the touches spoke something else. ,,Is that pink make-up or have I captured your heart, sweetheart?" he asked with a grin, spinning her around once more before holding her in front of him.

She shook her head slightly, but more from the dizziness of the many spins she was not used to, at least not in such a situation. ,,No? No what? The make-up or your heart?" he asked, coming closer to her, his unnatural red nose nudging hers and she thought she heard a horn somewhere.

She didn't want to answer, just wanted to know her village was safe, and yet. And yet he seemed to have taken her in. Captured her finally as his.

But when she saw the stands in the background, she seemed to guess what he wanted. ,,It's not the make-up...it's my heart," she murmured, looking back at the clown who couldn't have been happier. He seemed to have finally got what he wanted. Her.

Pulling her to him he gave her a long heartfelt and most of all exuberant kiss that must have been everything to him, the mix of wine and colour hit her lips as she could barely return the kiss. ,,Great! My new crewmember, the beautiful Balerina!" he announced, and with a flick of his fingers, the people of her homeland suddenly reappeared from the darkness in the stands who were forced to cheer and clap.

Which was supported by his crew members who joined their captain. They cheered and screamed with joy because they had probably seen the show in the dark, they had all realised what he had done, all but herself, and she had fallen into his trap like a bird in a cage. The pretty eye candy was now at his side.

Her feelings were still for the others ,,Let them go...please Buggy" she insisted, tugging at his jacket almost sweetly in an attempt at acting. She saw him looking back at her and he had an empathetic look on his face. Knowing, of course, that she was acting but that he was thrilled by her attempt. But to her amazement he let her go and calmly went to his wooden throne.

He sat down demonstratively on it and patted his thigh as he looked at her. ,,Come to your captain," he murmured, but it was so clear to her that it gave her the chills. While a few cheering shouts and murmurs went through the crowd. I have no choice...they must become free she thought and with her heart pounding she made her way slowly to the clown.

Almost flinching at his laughter, his eyes looked at her like a gift, like a picture, a thing that now belonged to him for ever, a beautiful flower, a doll that he could move and use as he pleased. ,,Come here," pointing to his lap again, he knew it bothered her, embarrassed her and yet he wanted to see her break slowly.

Break like he had been hurt in his past.

Sitting down on his lap with hot cheeks and avoiding looking at her friends she tried to make herself comfortable. As comfortable as one could get on the throne of a pirate captain who destroyed the home village. Feeling his hand wrap around her torso, stroking the cut on her cheek, almost making it bleed again, as he increases the pressure slightly only to play apologetically with a strand of her hair again.

He teased her every time he came dangerously close to her trousers or breasts, every time his fingers played with her clothes, pushing them slightly upwards and letting them fall again.

,,Let them go," she said, looking at him, and although he saw the dissatisfaction in her gaze through her façade, he grabbed her by the jaw. He pulled her closer to him, his gaze going from her eyes to her lips but stopping short of a kiss.

Made her wait and only when she gave him a kiss of her own free will did she feel the smirk on his lips. ,,Good doll," he said with satisfaction and with a wave of his hand the chains of his spectators were undone before the residents were shooed out of the ring.

It was clear to both of them that they would never see each other again, that they would never dance together again. She now belonged to the Buggy Pirates and she knew it forever when she put on the colourful balerina costume.

The ship began to move and the waves crashed against the wood. She now belonged at his side, on his lap, in his imagination. She was the pretty accessory the clown only liked to show off with.

But the more she danced, the more she swung her sword, the more she was praised by him. The more he praised her, the more he appreciated her. The more often she found herself laughing and grinning. Laughing soon just as Buggy did.

Even though she came from a small island where she had learned to dance, it was soon her dancing blade that she was recognised for. The madness of piracy and survival, the pain of the past, made her truly one of Buggy's pirates. In an act of unexpected love she became his Queen.

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

@readhead-un , @clownaddict , @today-is-thursday @f-rsaken , @starry-eyed-wild-child

[timetravelingmilkshake]

Okay but like we HAVE to talk about M-Roc and how he had a CHOKEHOLD on the tone of the story. I know we all know he dictated the tone, but I really haven't seen anyone go in depth on it and I haven't been able to stop thinking about this since I finished the show (god it hurt to finish the show). Spoilers for the entirety of Wyndburg High, but particularly the end of season 2 onwards!

Starting off, I think it was genius to not include him in the first two episodes. Apparently on the writing end it was because M-Roc was a late addition to the core cast and they didn't know how to rework the pilot with his inclusion, but I think there's something to be said about WHY he doesn't fit in the first two episodes which makes his absence brilliant. M-Roc is, to his core, a goofy character. I can think of two moments he's a little more serious (with Lux outside the hospital and talking to his sister before the election) but otherwise he's just not at all a serious person or character. In trying to establish everyone else (god, I still daydream about that opening montage), there's no space to show him as he is while also getting an idea of the others' lives.

Like, can you really picture cutting off of Lux getting home from her run to see M-Roc snorting a line of coke before moving onto Citrinus feeding her rats?? It's definitely funny and I think that does happen late in the first season, but it's too in your face, especially for a pilot, it can wait until later. The pilot is trying it best to establish the world as grounded and placed as firmly in reality as a fantasy high type setting can be which is a really important foundation for later. It makes M-Roc feel a little out of place at the beginning, but I can forgive the show for taking a moment to find it's footing.

Then M-Roc is introduced, thrown into the group and he's this over the top caricature of a person that everyone else treats as a totally normal occurrence. The others (particularly Ashbel) treat him like some amusing freak that none of them have glanced at twice. The rampant drug use is implied for almost half a season and when it is confirmed, it's just a joke. It's funny that this little halfling is doing coke in the bathroom before going to an adventure nutrition class, everyone from his classmates to his teachers treat it as a joke. Even Jolene playfully scolds him for being unhealthy, but there's no real concern about it. This continues for the entire time M-Roc is alive. Even when the mayoral corruption is introduced and the whole school watches a man get torn to pieces by a chimera in the middle of an assembly, it's kind of a joke? It's incredibly bloody for something the characters all start joking about soon after. Everything is super dark textually, but the tone is still fairly light. Even Ashbel pushing a woman down the stairs and killing her was treated like no big deal (which we all know very quickly stopped being no big deal in season 3). The literal actions were treated like a silly children's monster-of-the-week activity like it wasn't actively ruining all their lives.

I think the change starts with the street fight with M-Roc, Isaac, and Cecil. Isaac gets shot and hospitalized, Ashbel is hospitalized because of the chimera from the night before, Lux starts her arc of getting worse, Citrinus is being Citrinus, and M-Roc has this very real confrontation with death. I'd argue all the others only begin having the bad time they are because M-Roc has his existential crisis. He's very suddenly disillusioned by his life, the violence that surrounds him is very real and very dangerous and out of nowhere the idea that he might not live to see his graduation is scary rather than a running joke. His panic is the trigger that allows the others the tonal space to realise their own lives are going off the deep end. A few days later it's Milton who comes to school and they almost don't recognise him actually wearing their uniform.

It doesn't last long, but when it's Milton around? Everyone is scrambling and not sure how to react. The first time Lux is ever in a background shot having a cigarette is during this time too, as is Citrinus dissassociating. It's fine though, because M-Roc is back and everything is fine, the tone lightens again and it feels like the show tries to make you ignore the horrors you're watching. This doesn't work though. The show can pretend everything is still fine, but we got a peak behind the curtain and we can't forget the darkness lingering there.

But M-Roc is fine and silly and goofy so don't worry about that, haha, aren't grenades so funny? Look at Cecil yell about Isaac, isn't it funny how they all make quips about him and toss out witty one liners? Isn't it silly how Cecil interrupted what is clearly some sort of moment between Ashbel and Lux? It doesn't work entirely though, there are still hints. I will still die on the hill it looks like Citrinus had been crying when it cut to her and Lux's apartment in the background of the shots there had a good dozen pill bottles on the nightstand before she closes the door.

Then it happens. M-Roc dies. Horrifically, at that. The dead silence with slowly growing sirens as Lux and Ashbel arrive at the park still haunts me a little. He's dead and with him goes the tone of the show, six feet under. His funeral is heartbreaking and things are only treated with the horror they deserve after he's gone. Lux's addictions, Citrinus' mental health, Ashbel's parents, literally everything with Isaac, it's not genuinely bad to any of them until M-Roc dies and their comic relief is gone. No one fills that role, they all just ache with the void he left behind. Suddenly they're all teenagers trying to understand that death is real and could take any of them.

You can argue all you want about who holds the heart of the show, but M-Roc held the tone so tightly he took it to the grave.

[outoftheirdifferences]

Imagine a story where scamp and annette collette and danielle swapped places.

HMMMM...

That would be interesting because it prompts the question of what, exactly, would make them decide to run away, especially if Scamp stayed put? I know Dani can be boisterous sometimes, so I suppose if she was the one to cause serious trouble instead of Scamp and was the one who got put outside as punishment? While Annette and Collette might tut about it behind her back, they'd definitely be more sympathetic to her than they were to Scamp... but even if together they decide that their parents' / Jim Dear's treatment of her is unfair, neither Anne nor Colle have Scamp's rebellious streak, so I don't see either of them willingly suggesting to run off.

Under the cut because, heh, you got me thinking and this ended up getting longer than I expected!

Unless... Dani got away on her own, leaving her two sisters to panic and decide that they have to bring her back before their parents realise she's gone, to save her from getting into further trouble. She's certainly impulsive enough for that, and I'm sure Annette and Collette, between them, would be sure that together they could talk sense into her so would maybe count on the fact that they don't expect her to have got very far...

I guess maybe they do catch up with Dani fairly soon - whether before or after she runs into Angel, I don't know - but she refuses to come back because she feels like the rest of the family is treating her unfairly. I know that if Angel is present she'd subtly throw her weight behind the sisters' side of the argument, but Dani can for sure be stubborn, and if she feels that Annette and Collette aren't giving consideration to her feelings she would for sure blow them off. She'd also find Angel incredibly cool and try to attach herself to her.

If they did make it to the junkyard though, Dani following Angel and her sisters trailing after still trying to make her see sense... well. Buster might not have recognised Scamp as Tramp's son right away, but three prissy spaniel girls who remind him far too much of the woman who Tramp ditched him for, and who so clearly smell of house dog? Oh, there's no way that would go over well. He'd definitely direct the conversation in such a way as to let them make fools of themselves, get the gang making fun of them, maybe even rough them up a little... all the while thinking of ways to use them to get back at Tramp for abandoning him all that time ago.

I wasn't sure at first exactly what strategy he'd settle on. I feel like the one he used in the movie, getting Scamp taken by the dog catcher, only came about because of the specific set of circumstances surrounding it, it wouldn't be something he'd default to automatically. He wouldn't just trap them somewhere, because he doesn't know if they've inherited Tramp's resourcefulness; if they have then he'd have to imagine that not much would hold them for long - plus, Buster wouldn't want to just make Tramp's daughters disappear, he'd want Tramp to know that he was the one behind it, that it was his revenge, and that there was nothing Tramp could do about it.

Maybe... maybe he'd get the pack to take the girls somewhere, then when Tramp shows up looking for them, throw them into some kind of lethal situation that he wouldn't be able to save them all from. He might be able to save one of them, or even two... but Buster knows what Tramp's limits are and would arrange it specifically so that he wouldn't be able to rescue all three, not in time, and he'd then forever have to live with the knowledge that he'd had to make a choice to save one of his daughters over another.

Only... I imagine in the interim, while Buster's plotting and scheming and laying the hints to lead Tramp to that site, he has the rest of the pack keep guard over the girls... and while the others are disinterested, Angel gets talking to them. It starts off with her just subtly asking about their home, in a way that sounds like she doesn't much care, even as she secretly just indulged her longing for that type of life for just a moment... but that kicks off the old ache for a family in her. She's still SUPER guarded, especially with the rest of the pack around, but what they describe speaks to her... and maybe, too, the way that, even though Annette and Collette very much blame Dani for getting them into this, when the need arises both of them still stick their necks out to defend her despite that. There's a loyalty there that Angel hasn't known with the past families who dropped her at a moment's notice, and it sparks off something in her, gets her almost daring to hope again...

So in that confrontation, seeing what Buster's doing, seeing the realisation hit Tramp that he can't save all of his daughters alone (or even with the family members he's brought with him, because the rest of the pack hold them at bay to keep them from interfering)... Angel has made sure to position herself in just the right place that she can leap in and save one of the girls, allowing Tramp and Lady the time to rescue the other two. Buster, furious that his plan has been thwarted, turns viciously on Angel even as he commands the pack to tear Tramp and his family apart - if he can't wreck Tramp emotionally, then physically will have to do. He wounds Angel, then turns on Tramp while the rest of the pack, while horrified, still obey and tangle with Lady, Jock and Trusty...

...meanwhile Scamp, waiting at home for news, just wonders why nothing exciting ever happens to him... xD

As to how we'd bring it to a climax from there... The girls would definitely race to help Angel and take care of her wounds... and I think maybe, when Tramp and Buster prove to be too even a physical match for either to get an upper hand, the four girls put their heads together and come up with a strategy to trip him up somehow. Despite being the cause of the trouble in the beginning, I feel like Dani's impulsive streak would prove to have its uses when she breaks from the plan at a crucial moment, but in such a way that things would have gone wrong if she hadn't and that results in a better outcome than they'd intended.

Ultimately Buster is defeated / trapped, and the rest of the pack, shaken by his brutal attack on Angel, feel no inclination to help him and run off to do their own thing. Buster is found and picked up by the dog catcher, while the family make amends and return home, bringing Angel with them to nurse her back to health... and where she ultimately ends up staying for good, of course.

[imtryingmybeskar]

Day Seven of Steph's Christmas Challenge.

A little Duality ficlet but you don't have to have read it to read this. *SPOILER* This was part of my original idea for the epilogue - a little glimpse of part of their honeymoon - but it fit so well into the Christmas Challenge I couldn't resist. Set just under a year after the last chapter of Duality. If you ever get a chance to go to Bruges, do. It's incredibly beautiful.

Marcus Pike x F! Reader. 18+ only, smutty touching and a little boob play. Word count: 1011.

(Idk why but this look always gave me Marcus vibes)

Christmas Market

As you broke through sleep into wakefulness, there was a moment of brief panic as you didn't recognise the bed or the room you were in. But then you remembered, and a sleepy smile graced your lips as you rolled over to cuddle in to the man you had married just a couple of months prior, your hand groping across the expanse of mattress to find him. Except he wasn't there. A tiny sigh escaped as you sat up, your eyes still half closed in your semi awake state. You scanned the room until you landed on the enormous balcony window that was next to his side of the bed. He was standing in front of it with the curtains drawn back, and even in the gloom of the room and with his back to you, you could appreciate how beautiful he was - those big, strong thighs and his broad back. You shuffled out of the bed and padded across to him, slipping your arms around his waist and kissing over his shoulder blades.

"Hey baby," he murmured, his voice deep and thick with his own recent slumber. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nuh-uh," you hummed against him, revelling in the musky, sweet, sleep smell that still clung to his skin. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I guess the time difference must be messing with me, huh?" You could hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh yeah, that hour between London and Bruges. Its a killer." You nuzzled your nose against his back, wanting to get closer even though you were already pressed as far up against him as you could be.

"I just like looking at the view here," he said quietly. "Its so stunning. Come. Look." He pulled gently at your hands to break them apart and then slid behind you in one fluid and graceful motion. You had already both much admired the view when you had first checked in and come up to the room the afternoon before, but it was so much more magical at night. The jutting spire of the cathedral ahead of you was lit with a gorgeous yellow glow, the shadows cast by the gargoyles and grotesques that adorned it making it even more starkly beautiful than during the day. Christmas lights were scattered here and there below, beacons of warmth in the winter chill that occasionally reflected off of the canal in pools of colour that rippled in the wind. The moon was also casting a scattered facsimile across the water, and high in the sky the rainbow frost halo surrounding her spoke of how cold it was outside. But not in here. Here, you felt extra cosy surrounded by the warmth and strength of Marcus's arms.

He kissed your head and then nosed softly at your ear before speaking again. "Do you know why I wanted to come to Bruges as part of our honeymoon?" He nibbled over your lobe, making you shiver at the pleasant feeling of his warm breath and his moustache and beard against you.

"Th-the beer?" you guessed.

You felt his smile against your skin. "Okay, yes," he admitted. "And the chocolate. But mostly it was the idea of visiting the Christmas market here. You know how much I love Christmas. The lights, the food..." He paused before running his hands up and over your breasts, over the silk of the beautiful purple chemise he had given you as an early Christmas present. "...the gifts," he continued in a low voice, pushing himself against you as he began to stiffen in his boxers. You hummed low at the feeling of him against you, arching your back so you ground backward into him while pushing your breasts more firmly against his hands. "But I love Christmas markets, especially. There's just something about all those people gathering together because they all love Christmas too. An anticipation, an excitement in the air that is just so Christmassy and you don't quite get anywhere else. It's so...pure." You let out a moan that was decidedly not pure as Marcus softly rubbed your hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He continued as though he hadn't heard you, though you had definitely felt his cock jump at your back at the sound. "And then of course, there's the entertainment - the carousel, the ice rink, the carol singers. And the beautiful lights, the decorations, the trees. It all just comes together to make it a beautiful experience." You were barely concentrating on Marcus's words anymore, only on the low cadence of his voice, laced with arousal despite his innocent words. "Can we go tomorrow?" he asked, exaggeratedly mouthing the words against the skin of your neck, flicking out his tongue to taste you.

"Yes, Marcus," you whimpered, though whether it was in answer to his question or to encourage him to continue what he was doing, you yourself weren't entirely sure.

"I promise I'll buy you something sweet," he hummed. "And we can drink some mulled cider while we wander and take it all in." By now, you were pressing your thighs together in a desperate quest for some friction between them. The lips of your pussy were wet and sliding over each other as you squirmed, and your arousal began to leak to your upper thighs under the attention of Marcus's hands and mouth. He spoke even lower and more softly now, positively purring into your ear. "I have to say though, I've enjoyed this view even more than what's out there." His fingers ran over the lace edging at your breasts and gently pulled at the fabric, exposing you fully before his hands swiftly covered you over again, alternately massaging your flesh and skating his palms over your nipples.

"Marcus," you sighed again.

"Let me take care of you, baby," he murmured. "Let me take care of my beautiful wife."

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16

And he did, in a gorgeous, dazzling haze of endless, heated pleasure and tender, caressing love. Just like he always had. Just like he promised he always would.

Day Eight

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 1

Info: A devestating carcrash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that,everything you knew was about to change.

(I'm so sorry I'm so bad at blurbs.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes - Y/n

Warnings: PTSD, anxiety, swearing.

W/c : 1.2 k

A/N: This is my first ever fic. I'm not going to say take it easy but, 🥺

The subway rattled as it rushed through the dark underground newyork tunnels, jostling you. You reached out for the beam next to you gaining your balance again. You hated taking the subway. Usually you would hail a cab on your way to the coffee shop but this morning you were running late.

     All night you were kept awake with the same nightmare. The same nightmare that haunted you for almost a year now. As the lights flickered through the subway and you closed your eyes, you saw his face. The face you saw every night when you tried, desperately to sleep.

       A tall man standing on the edge of a bridge. You began to approach him but he paid no mind, his back to you. Heart begins to race, and tears stung your eyes. "NO! Please, stop! Please don't! STOP!!" You would scream so violently you felt your throat begin to burn. That's when he turned to face you. Your breath caught in your throat as you finally saw him.

     A few dark strands of hair fell from his messy bun. He had harsh features, like he was made from clay and the artist left without softening the edges. His eyes were dark and hallow. They seemed sad, broken maybe. As he turned back around you let out one more heart shattering scream as a loud gunshot rung through your ears, causing you to double over. Heaving as tears burned your face. And then you woke up...

      Your eyes sprang open and you gasped for air. A few passengers next to you shot you dirty looks as your tried to calm yourself. A blaring headache throbbed in your temples, as tears threatened your eyes. I am calm. I am okay. Just breathe. You repeat the mantra a doctor once told you to use. Slowly your breathing steadied, but the headache remaind. That was always a fun side effect when you thought about the nightmare.

       As the robotic subway woman announced your stop you rubbed your temples stepping out of the doors. You were so preoccupied trying to bring relief to your brain that you didn't notice the two hooded figures that quickly followed you through the tunnels and out into the city.

         Your coffee shop was only about a block away now. The streets of New York were flooded with people with scowls staring at their phones, pushing through the crowds. You had only been living in New York for two years now and still found it alittle overwhelming. You moved into the city after the the accident. Trying, and failing not to think about that horrific night you began to feel the blood pounding in your ears. No. I am calm. I am okay. Just breathe. You repeated taking a deep, slow breath and yanking the old door to the coffee shop open. The rusty bells that hung on the frame made a pathetic squeaking/chime noise as you entered.

       "Good morning Jannie!" A loud, high-pitched voice called to you which you recognised as Emily, you're overly eager coworker.

         "Morning." You faked a smile as you walked into the back room. Surly Emily was going to talk your ear off again today like she did every day. She was one of those people that went out every night and giggled and said the work 'like' between every other word. You tried to remember a time when you were as outgoing but nothing came to mind. It wasn't that Emily was a bad person, she just didn't seam to notice you barley said, 'like' 6 words to her and she never really stopped spuwing them. But strangely, you found her babbling helped keep your mind distracted. Even if you were never really listening.

        "So, ohmigid! Janie, the craziest thing happened to me yesterday! Like, I mean insane. Okay so like, I was walking to the the club, you know the one..." Emily began to chime as she poured a woman's foam over her latte. You tried to listen, but slowly your mind wandered off. The lights flickered in the coffee shop. You held your breath, feeling your mind begin to spiral again. I am calm... I am okay... Just-

      You opened your eyes and you were in a small damp cement room. The bright florescent lights slizzled down causing you to squint. They buzzed loudly causing your horrible headache to pound harder. Your mouth was dry and tasted like metallic. You were dizzy and your vision was distorted. Your brain finally caught up with your surroundings, realising you were secured to what felt like a hospital bed. Panic began to set in. This was different. You'd never seen this room before in your nightmares. "Welcome back, moy rebenok." The cool words brushed against the back of your neck causing you to shiver.

      "Janie? Jane!? Hey, can you hear me? Ohmigod, like, are you okay?" Emily's panicked words shook you back to the dirty coffee shop floor you were now on. You didn't know how long you had been on the floor, curled into the a fetal position, arms wrapped around your legs. You looked up at her, still in a bit of a daze.

      "Janie, ohmigod, what the hell is going on? Do you like, need me to call someone for you?" She crouched down beside you, placing a comforting had on your shoulder. Her touch was searing hot and make you flinch away.

        "I'm fine. Thank you, Emily. Sorry I- I don't know what happened." You spoke so quiet you didn't know if Emily actually heard. She only nodded reassuringly.  Slowly you rose to your feet, realising everyone in the coffee shop was peering over the counter with annoyance. Your eyes fell on a tall man and his redheaded girlfriend standing in the corner intensely staring at you. You felt nauseous as the reality of your current situation settles in. Thankfully, Emily was there. Now there was something you never thought you'd say.

      "Alright, shows over! You'll get your coffee. Just form a line." She yelled, her jersey accent drawled whenever she raised her voice. She paused and looked at you, now brushing dust off your pants. "Why don't you take a 15 in the back, girl. Drink some water maybe?" You smiled weakly and did as she said. Before you headed to the back room you took one last look over your shoulder. The couple from the corner were still there, but the woman was now saying something to the man who only nodded as his eyes burned holes into your scull. Quicky you spun on your heals and headed to the back room, eager to get the hell out of eye site and calm yourself for the long shift you had ahead of you.

     You didn't know what had just happened, only that it never had before. Not like that. The doctors said, after the car crash that you could experience some PTSD but this... The cement room. The strange voice. The way you could still feel your body aching.  You'd never experienced that. His words sent a shiver down your spine and echoed through your mind. moy rebenok.

..............

Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated 😍 stay tuned for the next chapter!

[one-boring-person]

Six Bodies In An Alley.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: pretty graphic descriptions of gore, death, blood imagery

Context: the reader lives in Santa Carla, and has befriended the boys, but still has no idea what they are, so is in for a surprise when they go looking for their brother one night, only to find them in the middle of business they'd rather the reader didn't see.

A/N: I reckon I'll turn this into a two-part story, seeing as it is a bit inconclusive, and the boys don't play a massive part just yet, so I'd better get down to that😂💛

Masterlist

"Three hours late. How on earth is anyone ever three hours late to anything?" I mutter irritably to myself as I push through the crowd, aiming to get off the Boardwalk as quickly as possible, my confused yet annoyed mood giving me the confidence to actively shove people out of my way, choosing to ignore any protests as I move past them. Two or three of them try to grab my arm, but I don't give them the time of day, pulling myself from their grip without even turning to them, worry starting to creep into me as I glance back down at my watch, knowing how late it now is.

A couple of days ago, my younger brother got in contact, telling me that he'll be in Santa Carla for a few days, and would like to meet up, having taken a couple of weeks off from his job in New York, where he's been holed up for months. Naturally, I'd jumped at the opportunity, glad to finally be able to show him around the little coastal town, and to be able to introduce him to the friends I've made in my time living here, seeing as he has not seen me since we both left our hometown, back when our mother passed away. We arranged to meet up on the Boardwalk around seven, but he never turned up, leaving me to wait in the bustling area with no clue as to his whereabouts. The hours dragged on, three of them passing before I finally had enough of worrying, deciding to go looking for him as my curiosity spiked, which is where I find myself now, a frown etched onto my face as I push through the writhing bodies around me.

After a good ten minutes of wrestling with the crowd, I manage to reach a main road, where the pedestrian traffic is a lot thinner, allowing me to see the surroundings with more ease. Still unable to spot either him or his recognizable car, I start to walk towards the outskirts of the town, where it is likely he may have gotten lost, pulling my jacket tighter around me as the air becomes cooler, the lack of people around me making the cold breeze more noticeable. Biting my lip, I try to suppress the urge to turn back and get somewhere warmer, continuing on into the dimly lit back roads looping around the town, an odd feeling starting to grow in the back of my mind, an inbuilt instinct telling me something is wrong, and that I'm not safe. Ignoring it, I start to observe the few cars parked here and there, struggling to see in the strangely foggy light, aware that the streetlights don't illuminate everything around me, meaning there are a lot of blindspots surrounding me.

At first, I don't recognise any of the vehicles lingering by the side of the road, my hopes briefly flaring up as I see a similar car, only to realise it is the wrong model and is, in fact, not the gaudy crimson colour I thought it was, a realisation that draws a curse from me. It takes another twenty minutes of searching before I finally find the right one, my suspicions having been confirmed when I see the scarlet car parked on the curb, the engine idling in the now-freezing night air. Relieved, I go over to it, knocking on the window of the driver's side, waiting for him to roll it down, or get out of the car. When neither happens, I bend over to look into the interior, my brow furrowing when I find it empty, the keys still in the ignition despite the fact that the driver is clearly missing. Straightening, I look over the exterior of the car, noticing that the back left tyre is flat, my eyes wandering to the back windows, though there is nothing behind them when I check, expecting to see the familiar sight of my brother sleeping on the backseats.

Frowning, I step away from the car, trying to think where he may have gone, going over all the possible places he could've walked to in the area, though I don't know this particular area as well as I'd like, my knowledge of the surrounding streets slightly limited. Chewing my lip, I go back to the car and switch off the engine, taking the keys with me as I decide to check if there are any garages anywhere nearby, knowing my brother is unlikely to leave the car running unless he is going to return to it relatively quickly. Locking the vehicle, I start back up the road, cursing myself for not checking up on him sooner, worry still biting at the back of my mind as I try to focus on finding him again.

I don't go far, expecting him to have stayed in the area, stopping and turning back when I reach another badly lit junction, at which point I finally acknowledge something off about the last half an hour: the streets are deserted, not a living soul passing me as I traipse the dark pavements. At this realisation, the instinctual feeling from before returns, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end as goosebumps appear on my skin, an irrational fear clouding my judgement as I turn and start walking hurriedly back the way I came, intending to reach the car again so that I can at least memorize it's whereabouts and collect it in the morning. My brother must've found his way into town or something, though it is odd that he left his prized car alone, with the engine still idling, something he's never really done. I try to reassure myself of this fact as my mind becomes ever more convinced that I'm not safe, my pace inadvertently picking up at the thought of something happening to me. It's only when I pass close to an alley that I slow, halting in my step as something catches my attention.

Taking a breath, I approach the alley, my instincts telling me to run and get away from here, still fully aware that I can't see every inch of the area around me, due to the bad coverage of the streetlights. Despite this, I still manage to make out the shape that caught my eye, instantly recognising it as human, though it isn't moving, not even to breathe, which is odd. As I move closer to the person, I become aware of the other people lying a little way away, one of them separate from the rest, a putrid stench floating up from them all, making my eyes water slightly at the strength of it. Wrinkling my nose, I crouch down beside the first person, intending to ask them where I am and if they've seen my brother pass them, only to let out a half scream when her head rolls forwards, a thick liquid rushing down her front as it does.

In the dim light, her eyes stare up at me, glassy and unseeing, her face mutilated and caked with dark blood, bone and muscle visible under the torn skin. Her hair hangs in filthy strands over her shoulders, though it moves out of the way to reveal a deep hole in her chest, as if her ribs caved in over her heart, puncturing her lungs and heart, which are just visible under the slick covering of blood, all the skin that would normally cover her torso torn into shreds and peeled away to reveal the musculature beneath. Flies are already gathering around the reeking corpse, a few rats even starting to crawl up her slashed arms, eager to get hold of this new meal, the whole sight making me want to throw up, bile starting to rise in my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as I stand, tearing my gaze away from her.

A quick glance proves to me that the rest are all similarly mangled, their blood black in the dusky lighting, pools of the stuff gathering in the dips in the pavement around their corpses, the stench emanating from these vile puddles. Horror and fear, as well as panic, well up in me, my body starting to shake as I remain rigid, standing there for a good few minutes before I manage to collect my thoughts again, thinking through what could possibly have happened. Was it a freak animal attack? Are there rabid creatures waiting in the shadows to tear me apart, as they have done to these people?

As I think this through, one thought surfaces, a pang of deep fear striking me as I quickly go to each body, frantically checking their faces for a familiar one, gagging and wincing as I see the bloodied scraps that are left of their visages, their blood soon coating my hands and shirt from where I've handled their lifeless cadavers. In total, there are six bodies, and five of them are unfamiliar to me, so I approach the sixth with some hesitation, my steps slow and cautious, as if to delay the inevitable, though it isn't long until the face of the person comes into view, the unmistakable shape of his jaw and bone structure sending an icy bolt of horror through me.

It's my brother.

Gasping, I trace to his side and collapse to the floor, eyes finding the wounds littering his body, widening as they take in the gory mess that is the remains of his throat, as well as the mangled stump where his right arm used to be. A wave of nausea threatens to crash over me as I try to concentrate, unsure of whether this is really happening, my hands reaching out, gingerly, to trace a clean patch of his skin, a strangled sob leaving me at the feeling of his frigid skin beneath mine. Just in time, I turn to the side and allow the contents of my stomach to empty themselves onto the pavement, my stomach unable to hold itself together as I try not to break down completely; I continue to throw up for a good five minutes, a painful cramp setting in as I am reduced to dry-heaving.

I barely register the sounds of a group of people rounding the corner, their voices familiar to me as they joke with each other, laughter accompanying the cynical words of their leader. It's only when they stop a few metres away, voices fading into shocked silence, that I look up, terror filling me as I take in their appearance, identifying them immediately: Paul, Marko, Dwayne and David.

My eyes take their forms, horror and panic building up in me as I take in their bloodied appearances, discomposure filling me as I notice the concentration of the brackish fluid around their chins and mouth, before my eyes lift to their other features. Upon seeing them, I back away, confusion and fear evident on my face as I slowly get to my feet, continuing to edge away from them as they start to come closer - their features are distorted, their brows pulled into longer, grotesque caricatures of their usually handsome faces, blazing yellow eyes ringed with crimson following my every move, razor sharp fangs poking out from under their top lips as they go to speak, each pale tooth stained scarlet.

Without a second thought, I turn and run.

Adrenaline gives me speed, my pulse pounding in my ears as I race back onto the street I was on before, my breathing becoming harsh and ragged as I push myself into my fastest pace. Behind me, I hear a couple of deep chuckles, as well as a maniac laugh as footsteps start to follow me, a horribly familiar voice calling after me. I ignore it, focusing on staying ahead of my pursuers, doing my best to avoid the stones littering the pavement, my hand scrabbling in my pocket for the keys to my brother's car, thinking I could use it to get away, even if the tyre is flat. Finding them, I pull them out and continue sprinting down the road, a relieved gasp escaping me as I catch sight of the vehicle ahead, a new burst of energy exploding in me as I give one final push, reaching it swiftly.

Tremors wrack my hands as I attempt to get the key into the door, aware of the ever-approaching boys behind me, my breath held as I struggle to remain calm, adrenaline still pumping through me, a curse escaping me as I fight with the stuff turning mechanism. It finally opens, allowing me to climb into the car and slam the door behind me, quickly sticking the key into the ignition and turning it, only for the engine to stall. Going to try again, I growl in frustration as the same thing happens, the car refusing to let me put it into drive as I wrestle with the key. Panic starts to resurface within me, my actions becoming more and more frenzied, until I give up, punching the steering wheel in front of me in anger, wincing when my fist smarts afterwards.

A dent suddenly appears in the roof of the car, as if a heavy weight was dropped on it, a blood-curdling screeching noise following, as if someone was tearing through rusted metal, or trying to bend it out of shape. Looking out of the window, I notice a pair of hands digging into the weak spot just above the window, the metal coming away from the base as they continue to pull at it, opening me up to them, whatever they are. Petrified, I remain still for a couple of seconds, before jumping back into action, moving so that I'm forcing myself through the gap between the driver and passenger seats, crushing myself through the space into the backseats, collecting myself before I throw open the back door, stumbling briefly as I try to regain my balance, racing off towards the main road. I must look a sight - wearing a bloodied shirt and sporting similarly stained hands, tears streaking my cheeks, my breath coming out in rasping pants as I try to stay ahead of a group of who I assume to be killers. Hope fills me as I see a brighter light appear at the end of the road, clearly the beginning of the main road leading into Santa Carla, my pace remaining steady as I aim for it, careful not to get too excited, knowing I'm not quite in the clear yet.

A pair of arms suddenly appear around my waist, their owner easily lifting me off the ground and into the air, a scream of terror ripping itself from me as my attacker somehow floats upwards, holding me against a muscular chest, the smell of their black coat very familiar to me. Instantly, I start to writhe in his grip, kicking and wriggling as much as I can in his tight grasp.

"Calm down, (Y/n)! I'm not going to hurt you!" David commands, tightening his arms around me as I pay him no attention, trying to get out using any possible technique, "If you keep this up, I'll have to drop you, and we're a long way from the ground!"

At his words, I look down, freezing up as I see how far away we are from the pavement below, my eyes widening in fear, a pathetic whimper escaping me. I look up to see the other three sort of hovering around David and I, all of them looking serious for once, not just Dwayne, Marko chewing on his thumb as Paul struggles to stay still, somehow managing to fidget in mid air.

"What do you want? What are you?" I ask them, despair lacing my tone as I address them, knowing I'll probably end up like my brother, another corpse my supposed friends have left behind for others to find.

"We'll explain soon enough, but for now, we're going home. Hang on tight." The platinum blonde confirms, shifting me around so that I'm facing him, his icy blue eyes boring into mine as he repositions my arms around his neck, encouraging me to hold on tight. Gritting my teeth, I swallow and hold on, linking my legs around his waist as he starts to move, burying my face into his chest in pure fear, unsure of what will happen.

[smileyoongle]

Masterpiece (A Yandere Park Jimin AU)

Summary: You thought it was just a painting until you bought it. You thought the man in the frame was beautiful until you saw him. You thought it was a masterpiece until you were ruined.

Pairing: Yandere! Jimin×Reader, Taehyung×Reader

Warnings: Contains mentions of smut, deaths, blood, obsessive behaviour and mental health issues. Please read at your own risk.

Dead silence.

The patter of rain was the only thing audible in the big house. All the lights in the humble abode were switched on, illuminating the residence in the middle of the night when you were asleep on the couch in your painting room. The incomplete canvas was sitting on an easel, the wet paint beginning to dry. The big vintage clock in the corridor kept working, it's hour hand pointing at 3. 

Your day had been very eventful, including the drama with Taehyung and your brain making up images of Jimin as if he was real. You had decided that you were going to try sticking to your meds along with enough sleep so that you won't have to visit Namjoon again but so far, nothing was going fine.

You had downed another bottle of Italian Amarone, alcohol buzzing through you as you furiously painted on a canvas. You were suddenly feeling very inspired but the alcohol was making it harder for you to stay awake. And so you passed out, letting your new creation dry on its own pace. 

A shrill noise had you jolting up, your face immediately twisting due to the throbbing pain in your head. Your eyes burned and your body felt numb. Of course, it felt that way. You were in the middle of sleeping. You took a minute to compose yourself, your mind finally registering what was going on. The ear piercing noise was still ringing through your house, red sirens blaring in your head as your eyes widened. 

The security alarm.

With a gasp, you were off the couch and taking off in the direction of the front door, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You didn't even want to think of the consequences incase someone had actually broken into your house. Your feet softly padded against the carpeted floor as you sneaked into the kitchen to grab a knife from the drawers, your eyes frantically darting around to catch anything out of place. Once the shiny weapon was in your hand, you gained more confidence, your posture growing more attentive with every step you took. 

The beeping sound was louder since the security system was now closer to you. You wondered if Nan had left the house or something. But the alarm wouldn't alert you if that happened, would it? 

With a deep inhale, you walked towards the front door, the long dark passageway in the middle, haunting you and stirring up unwanted memories in your mind. 

No, Y/N! Not now.

You pursed your lips, swallowing thickly while keeping a check on your surroundings. There was absolutely no movement in your peripheral, making you think that something was wrong with the system. But once you saw the big wooden door open wide, your blood ran cold and your stomach churned. Your feet were frozen and you lost all sense of reality, the urge to throw up growing stronger with every second wasted. 

There was someone in the house.

Your headache intensified along with the tears in your eyes. You wanted to hide somewhere and never be found. All it took was a word of motivation because the next thing you knew, you were running out the door and into the night, your bare feet slamming against the rocks as you made your way towards Nan's cottage. Rain water poured over you, drenching you from head to toe. Your lungs burned, your skin glistening in the moonlight. The knife was still clutched between your fingers, a trail of tears making their way down your cheek. For a second, you thought you heard another set of footsteps behind you. But you didn't look back. You were too scared and the rush of adrenaline was almost blinding. 

A grateful gasp left your mouth as you stepped onto the concrete in front of Nan's house, your lips quivering before a whimper left your mouth. Your hands banged on the weak wood, your heart in your throat. If this door didn't open and if there really was someone behind you, then this was it. You were gonna die a painful death without telling Taehyung that you were sorry. Without telling Nan that you appreciated her more than your own family. 

"Nan! Are you there?! Please, open the door!" You begged, finally finding the courage to look behind you. And the sight before you was a complete gift. Trees swayed with the wind, rain beating down on the leaves but there was no sign of any other human around. The branches clashed against one another, making you conclude that you were just too shaken up. Nonetheless, you couldn't just forget that fact that there was someone in your house. You still needed help. You turned your attention back to Nan's house, slamming your fists harder and hoping that she was waking up. Your hands were starting to hurt with how hard you were pounding, your fear growing more and more. If the intruder was on his way to find you then you were definitely gonna be taking your last breath. You hissed in frustration, cursing due to the lack of response from inside the dainty house. 

What is Nan doing?

You moved away from the door, staggering towards the glass windows to peek inside. You cupped your hands on either side of your face, your eyes narrowing to focus on the dark room inside. A small candle in the corner lit up the table it sat on, its surroundings barely visible to you.

"Nan?" You called out, frowning when you heard nothing. Negativity pulsed through you, your mind assuming the worst scenarios possible. With a heavy heart, you stood still for a few minutes, the rain lashing at your back while you struggled to make a decision. A sudden idea had you patting the pockets of your shorts, a sliver of hope brewing that maybe you had your phone with you. But you didn't. It was inside your house. With the person who broke in. 

All you have to do is go inside and grab your phone.

You gazed at your house, it's turret looming high in the night and begging you to come back. The plan sounded easy but it was hard to even push yourself back in. You could still hear the alarm ringing in the distance, you had forgotten to shut it off. You bit your lip harshly, the taste of blood tainting your tongue as you began to walk back towards your residence. It had to be done. You needed to call someone.

Maybe Taehyung? 

Your feet ached and you were sure they were bleeding, the thorns and rocks having contributed immensely to the little cuts on your feet. You were trembling, the cold rain and the fear taking over you. You were fighting hard to keep your calm, Cameron's face flashing in your mind again and again. This night was different but not too much. You were alone and helpless with no one around. You took in a shaky breath, stepping inside your house and looking around carefully. Your hands itched to shut off the alarm but you didn't want to tip off the intruder. What if he hadn't figured out that you had left the house yet?

That...made sense.

You slowly walked towards the living room, the house telephone sitting on top of a table and calling out to you. Your phone was upstairs, you couldn't possibly go up there without getting caught. Your fingers clutched the knife tightly, your other hand picking up the phone and quickly dialing in Taehyung's number, probably the only number you remembered like the back of your hand. You placed the phone next to your ear, breathing raggedly and waiting for him to pick up. A sigh of relief left your mouth as soon as a click went off, but it was gone just as it came. Your breath hitched, your ears turning deaf to Taehyung's raspy voice that echoed through the receiver. Goosebumps rose on your skin at the sound of footsteps thudding across the hallway, the sound of the alarm no longer bothering you. Someone had shut it off.

"Hello? Y/N?" 

Taehyung's voice prompted, your chest heaving in panic. The best option you had was to let Taehyung know that you were in trouble and try to stay alive until he came to save you. Otherwise, you probably didn't have too many chances of surviving this. Your knuckles turned white due to how hard you were holding the phone, your breathing turning erratic. You opened your mouth to tell Taehyung whatever you could but it was too late.

"You should put that down. I tipped the alarm off." 

You forgot to breathe upon hearing that voice. This time, you weren't confused. You had heard his voice enough to recognise it without pondering further. The phone fell to the floor with a clash, the knife falling right beside it. There was a trail of blood on the floor behind you, your footsteps decorating the wood in crimson. You swallowed thickly, your feet turning around to show you the man you saw every waking second. His hair was splayed over his forehead, a black t-shirt hugging his torso below a gray cardigan with stars embedded on it. You realized that this was most definitely the same outfit as that in the painting and Park Jimin was a beautiful man up close. Even after having seen him before, you couldn't hide the surprise and shock convulsing through you. Your throat felt constricted and you couldn't utter a word. 

Jimin stood before you, leaning on the couch with an amused smile on his face. Your body was screaming at you to run away but your mind kept telling you that this wasn't real. There was no way someone from a painting can just come out and start talking to you.

"You don't look too happy to see me." He stated, frowning and tilting his head to the side. A mocking pout rested on his lips, the smile disappearing into nothingness. The air was thick with anticipation of what was going to happen next. Your head and feet were killing you, a single drop of water trailing down your cheek. You were uncomfortable in your wet clothes but the problem in front of you was much bigger. It had to be the Amarone you had finished before going to sleep. Jimin stood up straighter, your body going on full alert as you took a step back in fear. 

His lips pursed, his eyes displaying the hurt he felt. What was he expecting? Your hands pressed against the table behind you, your feet coming in contact with the fallen knife and making you wince. You sucked in a sharp breath and looked down, the blood beneath your feet causing your head to spin. No. Absolutely not okay with blood. 

"You're hurt. Let me help." Your head jolted up at his voice, his hand stretched out towards you. His eyes didn't show any wicked emotions, a sheen of sincerity and concern laying over his features. You were in a daze, unable to comprehend what to do. Could you trust him? 

He is not real. There's nothing to be scared of.

As if reading your mind, Jimin chuckled, his eyes compressing into crescents. If you weren't in this situation, then you would have definitely smiled because of how contagious his laugh was. It was a beautiful sound. Unfortunately, you were too scared to do anything.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done that already. Don't be scared." He cooed, taking another step towards you and wriggling his fingers. You glanced at his palm, having an internal battle whether it would be okay to give in. But you weren't stable enough to put up a fight either so you slowly placed your hand in his, his warmth spreading through you and relaxing your muscles. He smiled wider in response, pulling you to sit on the couch. He looked down at you, nudging his head towards the kitchen. "I'll be back." 

You kept your eyes fixated on his back, not trusting him enough. What the hell was happening? Your hands found their way into your hair, pulling at strands in an effort to relieve your headache. You were going to faint out of exhaustion for sure. The phone on the floor was mocking you, letting you know that you still had a chance to call Taehyung. But for all you knew, he was probably already on his way. That thought made you feel a little better, knowing that Taehyung was gonna come soon and tell you that you weren't going crazy at all. He would see Jimin and everything would be okay. Maybe there was some sick and twisted explanation for this but you were all ears. 

You felt a warm cloth on your shoulder, your eyes widening momentarily as you looked up at Jimin. "You'll catch a cold." He voiced, patting your head and kneeling down in front of you. He had brought your first aid box with him and you wondered how he knew where it was. Too lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice his hands placing your foot in his lap, gently holding it like it was a piece of glass. You closed your eyes and clenched the towel around you tighter, the rubbing alcohol coming in contact with your skin. Your eyes watered but you refused to let out a sound, your teeth digging into your lips roughly. You distracted yourself by looking at his face and counting all the flaws he didn't have. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his fingers delicately working through every cut you had. You huffed whenever you felt ticklish but other than that, there was not a sound from you. 

"How did you know where everything was?" You blurted out, halting his actions and making him look up at you. His eyes darkened, his lips stretching into a smile which was far from innocent. His fingers tightened around your ankle, your breathing faltering upon seeing the sudden change in his demeanor.

"I've been watching you, my love."

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[fanficsrusz]

My Collection Part Five- John Wick series

A/n: part five it out and i think there might be one or two more parts left after this im not to sure.

Masterlist

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Slowly awakening, bright lights aggravated y/n's eyes as she tried to lift her hand to her head in an attempt to ease some of the pain that rumbled through her skull but something stopped her actions. ‘What?’ she mumbled to herself unable to understand what was happening. Her arms and legs were not responding as she wanted to them. Gradually she began to get her senses back as Images of john on top of her flooded her mind. She looked down at her form and saw that she was sitting in a chair, her arms bound to the chair armrest and panic set in. Her breathing quickened as she began to tug at the restraints, causing them to dig in and burn against her skin. Her attempts were trivial so she stopped closing her eyes trying to calm herself down. “ok.ok .” she comforted herself before opening her eyes again “get it together.” she began to look around the room she was in trying to see if she could piece together where she was or find a way out.

The room was small, dark grey cement walls were illuminated by a single light that hung overhead and a single door stood in the middle of the far wall. Newspaper snippets covered the wall to her left as well as a small window blocking out any sunlight leaking in. She squinted to see what the newspapers said but could only make out a few pictures of some people. But they weren't just any people, they were the girls who had been missing. Her blood pressure rose as she thought of the situation she was currently in. She knew she had to remain calm if she wanted to find a way out but it was hard. Moving to look at the wall to her right, she couldn't help but let out a cry. Knives, saws and various surgical instruments decorated the drab grey wall and y/n began to squirm in her seat again causing it to scrape against the floor as she tried to loosen the grip the ropes had on her. After what seemed like hours and felt like a waste of time, the ropes began to loosen. She laughed quietly in disbelief that something had actually happened and as a sign of happiness. She slowly was able to free a single hand before turning and untying the other. She tried to keep as quiet as possible as she fixed herself taking the chance to look around. As much as she wanted to run to the nearest police station, she needed to know the truth about John. Why had he taken the other girls? What did he do to them? Why did he take her? But most importantly, why take Tom? He was the anomaly. He didn't fit the pattern.  She walked over to various cupboard pulling them open only to reveal glasses of random liquids and empty boxes. Just as she was about to close the doors ready to move on, a brown wooden box on the top of the cabinet caught her eye. Reaching up on her toes she pulled the box down, revealing its contents. In the box were various I.D badges. One after the other she pulled them out examining each. Chris Webber: IT Technician. Steve Omen: janitor. Paul Roberts: doctor. All of the names and occupations were different but there was one thing that was the same through: John's picture was on each and every single one of the cards. "who is this man?" she thought to herself slowly closing the box and placing it back in its designated spot.

As much as she had tried to be quiet, Her previous struggles were not as quiet as she hoped as heavy footsteps broke the silence in the room. They were coming from the opposite side of the door. She looked around the room frantically trying to find somewhere to run or hide but there was no where she could turn. She didn't know what else to do as the footsteps got closer and soon the noise began to mimic the beating of her heart. She sat in the chair again, moving the ropes to cover her wrists in an attempt to look as if she was still tied down. She closed her eyes, hoping it would cause whoever was there  to think she was still unconscious and leave her alone for a little while longer.

The door swung open and john entered the room calmly carrying a bubbling bucket of unknown liquid. His hair was wild and it didn't match the formal clothes he wore: a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black trousers. He walked further into the room and y/n could sense his presence in front of her as he made his way over and crouched down, placing the bucket next to them. He grabbed her face roughly and y/n tried to hold in a whimper. “I know you’re awake” he growled and y/n knew the gig was up as she slowly opened her eyes and was met with johns powerful glare. She gulped and john snickered “there's my beautiful girl. Making so much noise” he stroked her face and she physically recoiled as if his touch burnt. He stood up and began to walk to a cabinet on the other side of the room pulling random items out of it and placed them on a small table.

“You won't get away with this. I figured you had something to do with tom and those girls within a few days of being here. The police will find me. they will figure it out as well” she cried using the small amount of courage she found in her to knock johns confidence and john just laughed wheeling the table over to her. He placed his hands over the top of hers as he leant down and closed the space between their faces. “It's funny. I've been doing this for years, going from town to town and yet i haven't been caught ” he laughed and stood up placing his hands on his hips “in fact you're the only one who has even become suspicious. Even the police are to thick to see the patterns and piece them together. Strange really isn't it “ he shrugged and turned his back on her beginning to make his way back to the cabinet before rustling around in it. She looked down at the table john had wheeled over and saw a small knife laid on it. Looking up to see John to occupied with whatever he was doing, she saw her chance. slowly she pulled her hand from the rope and grabbed it as quietly as possible and hid it under her arm as john continued to rant. “see the boy Tom, it's a shame really, he's a nice kid. But he was getting too close to you and he would have got in the way of my plan” he paused and turned to face her just as he was inserting a needle into a small jar of anesthetic. Her eyes widened at the sight but she pushed the fear down. “That's the one thing I can't figure out. What is your plan?” she stalled and he put the needle down on the side and he walked over sitting on the floor in front of her. He looked up at her as if he was a child telling his mum about his day. He was so excited “ you're the only one to ever ask me that. I knew you were special” he stated and looked into her eyes deeply before beginning his story “ when I was younger, my mother used to make these dolls and they were all so perfect. However, one day my father walked in on my mother with another man and he went insane  and bludgeoned her to death. I never saw her again. My father sat me down and told me that women are good for nothing, only cause pain and should only be used to look pretty and so i found a way to do that” he looked over to the bucket he had earlier and dragged it closer. “You see if i turn the women into dolls with wax then they will not be able to hurt me the same way my mother hurt my dad and their beauty will be preserved for years to come. They will become part of collection”. A tear slipped down y/n's face as john stood up and began to walk over to the anesthetic again. “Don't worry though, i need to do the embalming process first” he walked closer “I don't want the new member of my collection smelling now do i”. His smile was crazed and he was now Practically hovering over y/n needle in hand.

It was now or never as so she lunged at him with the knife driving it hard into his eye. “AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed falling to the ground as blood pooled out of the wound. y/n ran out of the room and up some stairs. She entered the hallway and stopped momentarily trying to find an escape route, her adrenaline rushing through her veins and she saw a window. Running towards it she looked outside hoping to get the attention of someone passing by but there was no one. She didn't even recognise where she was as woods surrounded the house she was in. she tried to open the locked window but it didn't budge “NOOO” she screamed. she was in the middle of nowhere, no one would hear her. No one would find her. She bashed her elbow against the window to try and smash it but it only hurt her. “YOU LITTLE BITCH” John shouted, his deep voice sending shock waves through her and his heavy steps could be heard coming up the stairs. She looked back towards the basement seeing his shadow coming up the stairs before running of too find the front door. She ran to the end of the hallway and entered the living room where she saw the front door. Running towards it she tried the handle and it didn't open. “Nonononononono” she cried. There was no escape and so she made her way into one of the side rooms in an attempt to hide. She closed the door as quietly as possible and hoped the saying ‘you can run but you can't hide’ was completely wrong.

y/n pressed her back to the door for a second before she propped a chair under the handle so john couldn't get it. She finally looked at the room she was now hid in. At first it was dark but her eyes soon adjusted to the lack of light and she could make out a few pews and the silhouettes of people who occupied them. She waited for them to move but when there was nothing she slowly made her way over to one of the people sat there.

She closed her eyes as a floorboard squeaked under her foot and stopped to see if john had heard. After several seconds of silence she continued her examination. Getting closer she could see the people clearer, except they weren't people. They were dolls. Dolls of women. The dolls john had told her about. Skin smooth and perfect. She touched the face of the doll she was looking at and it cracked and a bit of the face fell off. She didn't know what she expected to see when she looked at the hole on the 'dolls' face, but she was met with the harsh reality of the situation she was in. Rotten skin laid underneath the spot where the wax previously was. Her hand covered her mouth to stifle her cries.

Stepping back she looked at the 'dolls' as they sat there lifelessly, and She realised she could identify a few of them as the missing girls from the news and the others must have been from other towns. This was going to be her fate if she didn't find a way out, all to satisfy the strange delusions of a psycho. She wanted to cry out but couldn't instead turning to walk further into the room hoping to find another exit.

Movement in the corner caught her eyes as she stopped dead in her tracks. Looking towards the dark corner she could see a dark shadow shifting on the floor before strange gurgling noises came from it. She looked round and picked up a large candlestick from the end of one of the pews as a makeshift weapon. She slowly made her way closer ready to defend herself. As she approached, it became clearer what or more like who was on the floor. She gasped and dropped the weapon to her feet rushing over to the shadow.

Tom was proped in the corner, blood and bruises covered his body. . "tom" she whispered placing a shaky hand onto his face as tears ran down her own face. He looked up at her and managed a weak smile, the boy was barely alive from the amount of blood he must have lost.  A huge blood stain on his shirt caught her attention and she looked closer: it was fresh blood. She slowly moved the stained shirt out of the way and y/n saw the extent of his wounds. A knife wound leaked blood and she knew he would need help soon or he was going to bleed out. She pushed as much pressure into the wound to stop the bleeding before looking into his eyes smiling at him. "hey tom. You're going to be ok" he coughed up blood and at that moment she knew there was not much she could do. "i…. I...im sorry i couldn't save you" he weakly pulled his hand up to hold her face "dont be stupid tom" her smile faulted as she felt guilt consume her. If she didn't talk to him, he would be perfectly fine and not bleeding out in some random house. "y/n….. i….. I lov-" tom was interrupted by the sound of john bashing on the door trying to break it down. "OPEN THE DOOR Y/N" john yelled through. Y/n leant down and tried to pick tom up but he pushed her away "just go hide" he barely whispered. she stood up and looked towards a cupboard on the other side of the room. She ran over and hid in it just as john burst through the door. She watched through a small hole in the door as John walked in looking between the pews trying to find her.

"y/n i dont know why you're running for. I will find you. It's your fate. You and all these other girls were broken dolls before I even got my hands on them. Lost souls that just needed guidance and a place in the world. I  gave them that place, a permanent place on my wall as perfect little dolls. You may not have seen it, but I saw how you felt lost. How you practically begged me with your pretty eyes. Begged me to put you in your place and here i am to deliver exactly that" john ranted as he continued to look around soon he was inches away from the door. She closed her eyes in an attempt to wake up from this nightmare and covered her mouth with her hand thinking her breathing was to loud.

Within seconds, John yanked the door open revealing y/n stood there " found you my little doll" he laughed darkly.

TBC

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A/N: dundundun. 😂😂😂 Just ask to be tagged

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[tyrannosauruswrites]

I've been replaying the recent Tomb Raider trilogy and this idea wouldn't leave me alone today. Based on the opening tomb from Rise of the Tomb Raider.

TW: Guns and explosions.

If she was being perfectly honest, Jane wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed to get herself in this situation. She normally stayed at their base of operations and talked one of the others through the field work and provided first aid when things got a little heated. She wasn't physically the strongest or even the fastest but Jane knew however, the reason she'd been picked for this particular mission wasn't for the end goal but for who they might meet on the way. After all, they weren't the only ones after the Divine Source.

Jane scrambled up a bit of crumbling wall, pulling herself onto a stable pillar. She fiddled with a button on her radio to give herself an open mic and looked around her surroundings in awe.

"It's beautiful in here Cathy."

Her earpiece crackled to life.

"What can you see?"

"Lots of skeletons, the Prophet isn't the only one buried here but there's paintings and murals on the walls, all leading up to a big alter, I think that's where we need to look."

"Alright, just be careful and if you cross paths with him... remember I gave you that gun for a reason."

Jane's hand tapped the object strapped to her thigh. "I know, I just hope I don't have to use it."

There was silence between them for a moment as Jane started to climb higher before a thought crossed her mind.

"Any word from Anne and Catherine?"

"Nothing as of yet."

"I still don't understand why you sent them off as a pair"

"They might bicker to the ends of the Earth but they do make a pretty unstoppable team when they put their heads together"

Jane chuckled. "I'll take your word for it."

Cathy laughed too. "Anyway, how are you doing?"

"Pretty good, I think I can see the sarcophag- OW!"

"Jane? Are you alright?"

Jane hissed in pain. "I'm fine, just slipped and cut my palm on the rock."

"I thought I told you to be careful!"

"I was... ugh!... Being... urgh!... Careful!"

With one last heave, Jane pushed her body onto the altar and rolled onto her back, catching her breath. When she was ready, Jane sat up and looked at the sarcophagus.

"It's here, Cathy, we were right."

Jane could hear Cathy sigh with relief on the other end of the line.

"Open it, let's see what we've been looking for."

Placing her hands on the edge of the lid, Jane pushed with all her might... only to find the tomb completely empty.

"What?" she whispered to herself. "This can't be right, we were so sure!"

"What is it Jane? What's the matter?"

"The tomb! It's -"

But Jane didn't have a chance to finish her sentence. Closing in on her location, she could hear voices, distinctively male voices.

"They're here!" Jane hissed down the radio. "Going silent."

"No! Jane wait!"

But it was too late. Jane had already turned it off.

Not even a minute later, footsteps approached the sarcophagus. Jane did her best to listen. Three people maybe?

"Set the charges!"

She recognised that voice immediately, so he was here after all. Their suspicions had been well justified. There was rustling, a few clicks and then everything was still until he spoke again.

"Open it."

Jane held her breath. In her rush of panic to hide, she'd chosen the one spot with no escape route.

Inside the empty tomb.

She drew her gun and held it close... waited for the second she saw the lid beginning to move... and jumped up, pointing the barrel of her weapon directly at her brother.

The two men who'd been pushing the lid recoiled immediately. So she'd been right, there were three of them, but Jane kept her eyes on the man in front of her. He smirked in return.

"Hello, Jane."

"What are you doing here, Thomas?"

"Same thing as you I'd imagine. I was hoping you'd send my good for nothing wife but you'll do I suppose, didn't think you had it in you to be honest. You were always so... dull."

Jane tightened her grip. He was messing with her, trying to make her angry. Well, Jane wouldn't let him.

"Cathy is your wife on paper only, nothing more, I'll die before I let you touch her again."

Thomas chuckled. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

Quick as a flash, Thomas lunged at Jane, grabbing her by the front of her t shirt and pressed a gun to her temple.

"You really think I won't kill you? Once I get Henry the Divine Source, he'll bring you back from the dead and then you'll belong to him for all eternity, would you like that Jane?"

"You wouldn't dare," Jane growled back at him, her face quickly turning into a smirk of her own. "Not when I have this."

In the split second it took Thomas to check his belt, Jane had kicked him away from her, dived back behind the sarcophagus and pressed the trigger of Thomas's remote detonator. The blasts overhead rocked the entire tomb and it wasn't long until large slabs of rock started raining down and the woosh of running water could be heard behind her. Jane turned just in time to see a huge wave heading straight for her. She had to get out of there and she had to do it now.

Running as fast as she could, Jane took off in the opposite direction, vaulting over low ledges and scrambling up growing evermore unstable walls. She ran and ran and ran until finally, daylight. Jane flung herself behind a pillar as water rushed passed her, finally safe. She sat down, got her breath back and turned her radio back on.

"Jane?! JANE?!?!"

"I'm here, Cathy, I'm here."

"Oh thank goodness, I was thinking the worst... what did you find?"

"Nothing, it was empty. My brother showed up though."

Jane could feel Cathy tense, even through the radio.

"What did he say?"

"He let slip that he's working for Henry."

She ran her hand absentmindedly over the ground by her feet until her fingers met a groove in the stone. Jane looked more closely. It was a carving of a symbol. She'd seen that symbol before, she was sure of it but where however, she couldn't quite remember. It was as good a lead as any though.

"Cathy, I think I might have just found our next clue."