#look forward to hopefully seeing some of these in circulation!

[twosheds]

12 DAYS OF MONTYMAS - DAY EIGHT

Monty Python icons! 9 icons from each Monty Python film - to use at your disposal!

[kinglazrus]

The King is Dead, Long Live the King

Phic Phight | AO3 | FFN

Summary: Human criminals aren't so threatening when you're a powerful half-ghost. When Danny gets kidnapped, he decides it could be a fun Friday night experience and goes with the flow. It's not his brightest idea.

Or: Danny gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to sacrifice him to Phantom.

Word count: 4068

Big thanks to @wastefulreverie for helping me beta this fic!

—

Danny considers himself a realist. He and his friends have a rather good balance when it comes to their outlooks on life. Tucker tends to look on the positive side of things. Sam often focuses on the negative. Danny, meanwhile, likes to take a moment in and ponder it. Take his time figuring out if what is happening is truly good or truly bad. There's a balance to these things, you know. His life is all about balance. Hero and civilian. Human and ghost. Kidnappee and... well. He hasn't figured out the opposite of kidnappee, yet. The obvious answer is kidnapper, but he can confidently say he has never done any kidnapping in his life. At least not intentionally

The guys that threw a hood over his head and dragged him into the back of a van, however, can't say the same.

"It's a little dusty in here." They must have used a flour sack or something. Painted it black, since he can't see any light. Some traces of whatever the sack used to hold remain, and Danny finds powder entering his nose every time he breathes. He's trying not to sneeze—doesn't want to get snot all over the bag covering his face—but it's getting harder and harder not to.

Someone grabs his shoulder and shoves him forward. If it weren't for his body's ghostly composition, Danny thinks his spine might have snapped in half.

"Ow," he says, not that it really hurts, but he wants the kidnappers to know that it could have hurt. If they want to get anything out of him, hurting him would be a little counterproductive. They haven't said anything to him yet. He assumes there's more than one since someone has to be driving the van while another is busy tying his hands behind his back.

Two kidnappers, then. At least two. He felt more than one set of hands grabbing him as he was dragged off the street, but he didn't get a good look at anyone before they tossed the bag over his head. He could just phase out of his bindings, and the hood, and the van in its entirety, but Danny has been bored lately. Being a ghost hunter isn't much fun after you've outgrown your usual rogues' gallery. Regardless, they still try to put up a fight. Skulker comes after his hide at least once a week, and the Box Ghost never misses an opportunity to annoy him. But after the enemies Danny has taken on, they're small fry. He could use a little excitement.

Getting kidnapped is definitely a little exciting.

Kidnapper One finishes tying Danny's hands. They must have used some kind of cord. It bites into his flesh and already his fingers are going numb. That could be bad. Limbs can fall off if their circulation is cut off for too long, right? Danny remembers reading that somewhere. He doesn't know how long this little ordeal is going to take. Hopefully not that long. Having his hands fall off doesn't sound pleasant, and it would probably be a pain in the ass to regrow them. He knows it's possible, thanks to that time when Skulker managed to steal his little toe, but it's not a pleasant experience overall.

He would also have a hard time hiding the fact that his hands are gone from his parents. How would he even do that? The toe was easy; he made sure to always wear socks until it had grown back. But hands? He has a few sweaters with long sleeves. Or he could stuff some gloves and sew those onto his sleeves. Or get Tucker to do it since sewing using telekinesis is hard. Taking notes at school would be a pain.

If he's lucky, maybe he'll only lose a finger or two.

"Hey, what would you rather lose: a foot or a hand?" Danny asks.

No one answers.

"I think I would rather lose a foot. You could still run and everything if you get a good prosthetic, although it might take some work. I need my hands, though. Thoughts?"

"What the fuck is wrong with this kid?" Kidnapper Two says. At least Danny assumes it's Kidnapper Two. The voice comes from in front of him rather than behind, but the guy who tied his hands could have moved.

"Wow, that was just—wow. That was just rude. I'm actually really hurt right now. I thought we were bonding."

"Um... sorry?" Kidnapper Two says.

"Thank you. So, hand or foot?"

The silence stretches long enough that Danny thinks he won't get a reply until a voice comes from behind him.

"Hand," Kidnapper One says.

"Are you serious? Foot is clearly the right answer. You lose a lot more when you lose a hand," Kidnapper Two says.

"But I like hiking."

"You can hike with a prosthetic."

"I'm not saying you can't! But it would be harder. It's probably more taxing physically. I don't know, I want to hike. Hand."

"Will you two shut up?" a third voice comes from the front of the van.

Danny decides to call this person Taxi Man. He can call them Kidnapper Three, stick with the theme and all that, but he doesn't think they have earned the title yet. Kidnappers One and Two did all the work, grabbing and binding him. What has Taxi Man done? Nothing. Zero effort. Anyone can drive a van. They aren't even driving frantically. Danny hasn't slid into the wall once the entire time. They should have hired his dad as the driver, to make things extra exciting.

Kidnappers One and Two, thoroughly chastised, fall silent. Too bad. Danny was just starting to like them.

The silence drags on, filled only by the rumbling of the van. He wishes he had a better internal clock, but as it is he can't tell if they have been driving for a few minutes or nearly an hour. Either way, he's starting to get bored again.

"So, is the, like, what you do on the weekends?" he asks. The lack of conversation is more stifling than his hood. Seriously, what kind of hosts are these people? The least they can do is give him a little chit-chat to make things interesting. He has Taxi Man to thank for that, though. "You text your bros like 'Hey, u down 2 kidnap?' That was a real two in there, I hope you heard it. Is there a group chat? I bet there's a group chat."

Danny wants to lean back. Sitting on the metal floor hurts his tailbone a little bit. Too many bad falls during ghost fights.

"If there is a group chat, can I join? I think I've earned it. We're in this together now. We can split the ransom and everything. There's this guy, Vlad. He'd pay big money for you to hand me over to him. He's totally obsessed with me in like an 'I want to kill your father and take his place' kind of way."

More silence. Then, "Do you need help?" Kidnapper Two asks.

Danny flexes his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them. Maybe his hands really will fall off. "Yes."

"You do remember why we're here, don't you?" Kidnapper One asks.

"Well, yeah, but I'm really worried. What if this guy is a pedo or something?"

"Dave. That won't matter after tonight."

Dave. What a lame name for a kidnapper. Totally ruins the vibes. He should go with something scary like Hans. Or Gruber. No, wait. That's just the guy from Die Hard.

"Oh, right," Hans says.

"Wait, what about tonight?" Danny doesn't like the sound of that. He also doesn't like that no one answers him.

The drive lasts a little while longer. They make some turns. Stop at a few lights. Do other typical driving things, Danny doesn't know, he can't see what the hell is happening. But eventually, they come to a stop and the engine cuts off. Someone grabs his shoulder and hauls him up onto his feet. Danny stumbles as he's shoved toward the back of the van. He might have fallen out if it wasn’t for the hand that grabs the back of his shirt.

"Hey, you're stretching it," Danny whines, even as he dangles forward at a precarious angle. This is his favourite shirt. He can fix his face if he breaks it on the concrete, but his shirt? Can't fix that.

Someone grabs Danny's elbow and guides him down to the ground. There is a loud creak—probably the sound of a door opening. Somehow, everything gets darker. Danny didn't think that was possible, what with the hood. Apparently whoever painted it didn't do a very good job of blacking it out and he just didn't notice it until what little light he had left was gone. Now that they're inside—presumably, since the din of the street is gone now—it really is pitch black. In the distance, he hears humming.

Danny hums along. It's a catchy tune, very low and droning. It sounds like the kind of music Jazz plays to help herself fall asleep. He never got why she did that before, but he does now. As he stumbles along in the dark, smothered in the warmth of his hood, with the low murmur of distant voices, he feels rather relaxed. If he's lucky, his kidnappers might let him settle in for a nap.

The humming grows louder, loud enough for Danny to notice it's not humming at all but chanting. A dozen voices moan over each other as they repeat something in Latin. Danny isn't fluent in it, but Pandora has taught him a few phrases, so he's familiar with the sounds of the language. He tries to translate some of it, making out the word "phantasma" a few times.

Hey. That's his name.

A door creaks. The chanting grows louder. It flows over Danny, echoing voices melding into one as whatever space they're in spits the words back at them. It's haunting and beautiful in its own way.

The hand on his back guides him forward until his toes bump against something hard. He lurches, nearly falling flat on his face, but the hand grabs his shoulder and holds him steady. Once he has recovered, Danny feels out the space in front of him with his foot. there's a step, a small one. It's curved, rather than flat, and has a slight overhang at the top. Carefully, Danny steps up. Whatever it is creaks beneath his feet but holds steady.

"Stop here, please." Kidnapper One's voice echoes as they speak.

Danny obeys. Something rustles. The noise is followed by a weight on his head. A sheet, he thinks. But with some fidgeting, whoever is holding the sheet works his head through a hole and the weight settles on his shoulders. Not a sheet, then. Perhaps it’s a shawl. Or a poncho of some kind. The hands leave him once the poncho is settled. Danny focuses on every little noise he can. A clunk. A scraping noise, but not an unpleasant one. It brings back memories of chalk drawings on the sidewalk.

"Did I do it right?" Hans mutters.

"That looks like the book," Taxi Man says.

"Alright, cool. Marcel, continue."

Again, with the boring names. Marcel at least sounds unique, but Dave? Dave? They couldn’t even come up with fake names? Unless those are the fake names. That would be a stroke of genius. Danny still prefers Hans and Kidnapper One, though. They have a better ring to them.

"There's a table in front of you. Lie down on it," Hans says. At first, Danny wonders how on Earth he is going to manage that without his hands, but Hans has apparently thought of that. They turn him until he can feel the table. From there, it's a bit of an awkward scramble—with Hans' help—getting onto it and laying down, but he finds a pillow under his head once he's flat.

This is the nicest kidnapping Danny has ever experienced, even if Taxi Man is an ass. They gave him a warm poncho and a place to lie down. That nap idea is sounding better and better. Hans and Kidnapper One are pretty great guys. If that group chat really doesn't exist, Danny is going to make it happen.

The chanting around him rises to a crescendo, filling the space. Someone snatches the hood off his head and the chanting cuts off.

Danny blinks as his eyes adjust. Three people stand around him, two men and a woman. They are encircled by a small gathering of people. Everyone wears identical black cloaks with white accents on the hems, even Danny.

The woman standing to his left holds a long, vicious-looking knife in her hands.

"Oh," Danny says. "Well. That's not nice."

—

In hindsight, letting himself get kidnapped out of boredom wasn't a great idea. Danny should have gone to the arcade or something. Better yet, if he wanted something exciting to do, he lives above a lab. There are all kinds of fun things to get into down there. Most of those things can also kill him, but that's part of the fun, isn't it? That's what got him into this situation in the first place. The half-ghost situation, not the kidnapping situation.

"You just straight-up want to kill me," Danny says. Now sounds like a good time to start panicking. At least it would if Danny were a normal teenager. Then again, a normal teenager would have started panicking the second they were snatched off the street. Danny is just cool like that.

He takes a moment to get a good look at his kidnappers. The cloaks don't make it easy. They're loose-fitting and flowy, giving them great breathability but also masking their bodies fairly well. From the neck down, the only distinction he can make is breasts or no breasts. He mentally apologizes to all the women in the death circle. There's no delicate way to say it, it's just very obvious who does or does not have breasts. That's the problem with one-size-fits-all unisex clothing.

The three standing next to Danny—the ones who did the actual kidnapping—have their hoods pulled down and their faces exposed. The woman keeps looking between Danny and the knife as if she can't wait to stab him with it. She must be the Taxi Man. She seems like the kind of person who despises fun ice breaker games like Would You Rather.

When it comes to the men, one is significantly taller than the other, with broader shoulders. Catching a glance at the man's feet, Danny sees his ankles exposed by the too-short cloak. One-size-fits-all strikes again.

The shorter one shrugs. "Sorry." Ah, so that one is Hans. Makes sense. He has a kind face.

"If it's any consolation, we put it to a vote first. We really thought about it," Kidnapper One says.

"It was unanimous," Taxi Man supplies.

"Wait, before we go any further, I just have to ask." Danny looks at Taxi Man. "Are you okay being referred to as 'man'?"

She stares at him. "What?"

"Like, in general. Some people don't like being called dude or guy and all that stuff. I just want to make sure, are you cool with that?"

The knife twitches in her hand. She must really want to stab him right now. "Sure, whatever. I don't care."

"Okay, cool. Didn't want to be rude." Danny goes back to his favourite kidnappers. "Can I at least know why?"

"For centuries, a battle has been waging beyond the comprehension of mortals. A Tyrant and a King caught in an eternal battle. The founder of our order witnessed the first recorded battle over a thousand years ago, in the times of Ancient Greece. The Tyrant had seized control of a powerful city-state meant to expand his power by taking others as well. But before he could, the King came, vanquished him, and left. He did not even stay to receive thanks for his great deed.

"Our founder witnessed this battle and claimed they were gods. Many people did not believe him, but others had also seen the great battle and together, they formed our order Two centuries later, the Tyrant appeared again. And, again the King came and defeated him. For centuries, the Tyrant and King have waged war against one another. Their battles are great and many. Until recently, it had been some time since the King and Tyrant were last seen. Some believed them to be dead, but those faithless few have been proven wrong, for our King has returned! All hail Lord Phantom!" Kidnapper One cries out.

"Hail! Hail!" The chant echoes around them.

Danny doesn’t like the sound of that. They’re talking about him, or his ghost half, but he doesn’t understand. The Tyrant? He gets the king bit, a little. He is the Ghost King, but he certainly wasn’t a thousand years ago. He wasn’t alive a thousand years ago. Except for that one time he and Vlad went gallivanting through time, fighting over the Infi-Map. The Tyrant thing suddenly makes a whole lot more sense. And here Danny was hoping that jaunt through history could be a fun adventure with zero consequences. With his luck, he should have known better.

"But the battle has drawn on, far longer than it should. Neither the King nor the Tyrant has prevailed. Today, however, we fix that."

"Cool, cool." Danny hums in disinterest and examines the room instead.

Beyond the questionably fashionable cult people, there's not much to the room. It's big, empty. Some kind of old warehouse with windows high up on the walls. There's a catwalk overhead that leads to an office overlooking the room. Whatever used to be here is all cleared out now, but he notices marks on the floor where machinery used to be. Deep scratches and pits from things being bolted down.

He lies on a wooden table. It's finely crafted and painted a vivid purple. Leaning over the side of the table, he notes that the table is placed on a raised platform. Rounded, like he thought, also wood and also painted purple.

"Nice craftsmanship," Danny says.

"Thank you." Kidnapper One preens. "I'm a carpenter." That explains the stocky build.

Around the platform is some kind of chalk drawing. It circles the entire thing, strange symbols etched over the concrete.

Perhaps now would be a good time to run. It was silly fun before, but there are knives and an altar now. Danny doesn't remember signing up for a cult and he isn't interested in joining one now. From the corner of his eye, he catches Hans bending down and picking something up from the floor. Danny ignores him, though.

"So, this has been fun, but I think I need to get going." He sits up and swings his legs off the table. Kidnapper One and Taxi Man back away, stepping off the platform. Danny cracks his neck and readies himself. They have put so much effort into bringing him here, he may as well put on a little show. Who's going to believe some crazy cultists if he pulls a few ghost moves on them, anyway?

He goes intangible.

The cultists murmur with excitement. Danny barely pays them any mind, though, more focused on the fact that the cloak and restraints didn't fall off.

"What the hell?" Danny lets the intangibility drop, then pulls it up again. Still, nothing happens. "Hey, what's going on? What kind of—"

Danny is yanked backwards. His head bounces off the wooden table. While the warehouse spins and black spots dance in his eyes, an arm curls around his head and pins him in place, bent over backward. A hand, Hans' hand, forces his mouth open. Something slowly tips over Danny's face.

A drop of liquid touches his lips, blistering the instant it makes contact. Danny thrashes, trying to escape Hans' grip. He twists and jerks his head, but all that does is put his eyes under the stream as it drops. Danny screams as liquid blood blossom hits his face. The mixture is cold but it burns, hot and cold, freezing and melting his skin at the same time.

"Shit," Hans mumbles. The stream redirects. It splashes across his nose and cheeks before finally entering his mouth. Danny has to swallow it. If he doesn't, he might drown in the middle of a dusty warehouse. He doesn't want to, though. Everything burns. His lungs, his throat, his tongue. His screams turn to gurgles as the liquid fills his mouth. Hans forces his jaw shut. Danny can't see it, but it must be Hans.

Left with no other choice, Danny swallows. Every second is agony. He feels the mixture flow down his throat, searing him from the inside out. It settles heavily in his stomach.

Finally, Hans backs away. Danny collapses onto the floor, sobbing and gasping for breath. He can't see. He can't speak. He can barely breathe.

"Lord Phantom!" Kidnapper One shouts. His voice booms throughout the warehouse. "You have fought long and hard, but you have been weakened, bound against your will."

The chanting picks up again. Danny's name echoes all around him.

"We offer this boy, your mortal prison, as a sacrifice in your name! We have seen his feats of power and know him to be the one who enslaves you!"

Danny crawls forward, feeling for the edge of the platform. He must be close. Through the grey haze that his vision has become, he can just make out the edge of the wooden stage. He launches himself at it. The air before him sparks.

Danny screams again as electricity courses through him. The runes on the floor glow with power.

"Hail! Hail!"

"Hail! Hail!" The cultists cry.

Someone crouches in front of Danny, reaching over the runes. He raises his head, blood and tears dripping from his eyes. Taxi Man lifts him with a hand to his throat.

"As he breathes his last breath, so may you breathe life again! Hail the King, Lord Phantom!"

The knife comes down.

—

The room is dark. It's still daytime, but the sky outside is black. The only illumination comes from the circle of runs. The glow is dim. The pale light reflects off the sacrificial blade. A drop of blood falls from the tip onto the runes. They pulse.

The cultists all stand back and watch their sacrifice. A deep wound carves the inside of his arm, a remnant of his futile attempt to escape his fate. The knife still found a home in his chest. Now he lays splayed out on the dais, one arm outstretched. Blood drips from his fingers, falling onto the runes. With every drop, the runes brighten, until the growing pool of blood beneath him spills over the edge of the dais.

The runes flare, blinding everyone. The room rumbles.

"It's happening." Marcel steps back in awe.

An arc of light bursts off the body. It happens again, and again, until waves of silver light drown out the runes. They explode from the boy's bloody chest and burst into starlight. The light lashes against the barrier, pushing and pushing until the runes burst into dust. The next wave of light washes over the cultists and they drop to their knees screaming.

A chill fills the room.

Marcel struggles to lift his head. The runes have gone out. The body lays still, motionless, a shadow against the dais. A figure hovers above the altar, wreathed in silver light and wearing a black crown around his throat. Otherworldly green eyes look down on Marcel.

"You wanted the King." Phantom speaks with a hundred voices. His mouth doesn't move, but the noise fills Marcel's head. Every word rumbles with power. It feels as if his skull will crack open at the next syllable.

"So here I am." Phantom's arm stretches out. The worshippers drop to the floor, ectoplasm spilling from their mouths. It burns as it bubbles up through their throats, searing their tongues and lips. The only sound they can make is guttural screams. Marcel chokes, waiting for death. It doesn't come, though. Between one blink and the next, Phantom disappears.

When Marcel looks down, the body on the dais is gone.

—

Prompt by @five-rivers: For centuries, the cult has anticipated the glorious rise and return of Lord Phantom. That time is at hand. All they need to bring him fully into the mortal world is the perfect sacrifice: Danny Fenton.

[mossfrogpress]

Mossfrog Blog #1 - It Begins

Who would have thought I’d be so nervous to make a post on the blogging platform I’ve called home since 2013. The Mossfrog Press tumblr is not that old but I, Brooke, have thoroughly enjoyed many years formed by my relationship with Tumblr. I of course would not say that to even a therapist much less anyone outside tumblr, but it’s true. I love tumblr, but truthfully I have only ever made inconsistent, halting attempts at contributing to the massive pool of creativity and consciousness that has grown here. 

In recent years, I have to keep my blogging brief--there’s a dopamine addicted ghoul in my brain that will let me waste away looking at funny images if I let them. But I do want to use this platform more thoughtfully and actively than I have ever before.

It’s gonna be a little rocky on these first few entries I’m not gonna lie, but I hope to have fun with the experimentation!

🐸🍀 Below the read more are the details of plans going forward with this blog, but tl;dr is: I plan to share more art, sketches, and behind-the-scenes content with you, as well as engage more directly and share information on events and deals!

- Sharing sketch journal entries This is perhaps what I am excited about most at this time, even though it’s a ways off. I hope to share most if not all journal entries of the development of my personal style and brand direction. I’ve always wanted to share more behind the scenes processes, and my sketch journal is the primordial soup of Mossfrog development. I’ve always been a fan of artists who share the intimacy of their sketchbook, and I look forward to doing the same. In 6 months to a year I should have a more solid backlog of content to begin sharing!

- Sharing weekly/monthly inspiration Knowing a work contextualized by the framework of its inspirations can add so much richness to it. I hope to collect the various works that are inspiring me in the moment and share them in some sort of retrospective newsletter format. Theoretically, once my journal posts begin circulation, one would be able to follow the dates and see the trends of inspiration to execution, which I always love to see from other artists. 

If I'm feeling spicy we may just see reviews or essays on things I'm interested in. I can only keep the infodumping in for so long, so I don’t think I foresee a way out of becoming a blogger without letting my media analysis freak flag fly. I have so much to say about Dune

- Regular art posting As I currently do, I will be posting the art I create as well. I’ll work on formatting my Instagram cross-posts not to have the tags and shit lol - Community Engagement Replies, asks, fanart, customer photos, sharing cute, funny moments or additional behind the scenes. Lifestyle blogging if I have anything to share. and things of that nature

- Marketing/News Of course this is also where I will notify you of sales, deals coming up, live events, and anything else time-sensitive/salesy. (Or notifications for twitch streams, Tiktok/IG Lives, and other engaging activities I don’t actually do yet but really want to start!)

And most importantly, I hope to see this blog become whatever it’s supposed to be. These are guideposts towards a grand goal and intuition and time will ultimately determine the path  ✨

🎨 If you’ve made it this far, great! I’m shocked. Hopefully the text-dense posting will be infrequent lol. I gotta get back to feeding the ghoul that likes to look at funny images.

[theinfinitedivides]

hi hello there!! i saw that you followed me and i assume it's in regards to the ravn situation.

oneus is one of my ults (albeit hwanwoong has always been my bias), and only a few months before all of this i saw them in person for the first time. i am in absolute shock that all of this has happened - what ravn's been accused with is absolutely, completely terrible and there is no excuse if he has done it. i did read what's happened and the results of this, and there is no doubt that this will have a massive impact on oneus + their relations to the industry - even if it is true or not. hell, even cya, member of oneus's literal brother group, has unfollowed ravn on soundcloud. however, cya is still following leedo

right now i'm just waiting for answers from rbw. hopefully this situation is revealed very soon and we can have some sort of answer as to whether ravn really did commit those horrendous crimes or not.

wishing everyone the best. thank you

hello there! honestly everything you've said are almost word for word the points i've been trying to make to other people in the fandom—never got to see oneus live before all of this broke out, although i was considering trying to get a ticket to one of their recent stops here in the US. (Hwanwoong is my ult bias as well, btw, followed by Xion, but i did always tend to lean more towards the rap heavy members in boy groups and R*vn was no exception.) decided against it bc of personal reasons and now there's a bit of a relief that i did? i don't think i would have been able to appreciate and look back on my memories of seeing them if i found out about this almost immediately after, tbh, and i understand why you're in shock.

on the topic of CyA—i might have said this elsewhere (maybe in one of my DMs with another user) but from what i've seen during my time with onewe (who i have been following since before they made the move to RBW and redebuted) he is a very kind individual. he is close with several of the oneus members, and to see him do what he did and take it upon himself to remove all traces of their collaborations (while still, like you said, following Leedo, which proves that his issue is not with oneus but with R*vn specifically) was definitely a catalyst to me realizing that the group is on the edge of a precipice at this point.

someone pointed out to me that the wording in RBW's official statement is the kind you usually get among agencies when they've found something to back up the claims, want to gather additional evidence but don't want to alarm the rest of the public—iirc Dawn and Hyuna's first agency, CUBE, put out a similarly constructed statement when rumors of them dating first started to circulate among netizens, and so did Wonho's agency, although his charges were later proven to be false.

i really, really hate to say this, but this is panning out to be oneus' Try Guys moment (sans an actual statement from the members themselves, so far) and that f*cking sucks. i'm not too hopeful of him being proven innocent, simply bc there's so much evidence suggesting otherwise, but TO MOONS deserve closure and so does the victim, who, i believe, is so incredibly brave for coming forward and speaking out about she went through in order that other women/4th generation female idols wouldn't have to experience the same—keeping the rest of the members in my thoughts and prayers over the next few days, bc they're going to need it.

[mrsmaybank]

Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me. 

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing 

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all.  Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak. 

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame. 

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie. 

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true. 

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along. 

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it. 

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted. 

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.” 

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles. 

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-” 

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.  

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.”  Spencer heard you say. 

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.” 

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?” 

He smiled, “Yes.” 

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.” 

“You went to Columbia?” he asked. 

“I just graduated.” 

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself,  “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.” 

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.” 

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.” 

Your eyes went wide, “12?” 

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.” 

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.” 

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare. 

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

  “Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did. 

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.” 

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said. 

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier. 

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.” 

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

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team. 

In the bullpen: 

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato. 

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear. 

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk. 

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back. 

On the jet: 

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board. 

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.”  He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book. 

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances. 

Even in front of you: 

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring. 

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on  heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!” 

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…” 

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer. 

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid.  She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?” 

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.” 

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

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

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name. 

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth. 

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile. 

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?” 

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.” 

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him. 

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.” 

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.” 

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

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

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music,  and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated. 

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it. 

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves. 

“It feels great.” You nodded. 

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.” 

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--” 

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

You and Spencer just understood each other. 

[alpacaparkaseok]

Spooked

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! Thanks for sending it in, I had so much fun with it! :)

Pairing: best friend!BTS, maybe some secret crushes going on? 👀

Premise: You + all 7 members of BTS visiting a haunted house. What could go wrong?

So, so much.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: they are touring a haunted house, so there’s gonna be some scary story/spooky things going on. hopefully there’s enough fun things/fluff to counter it? 

a/n: this was longer than I expected it to be...but I was having fun with ot7. hopefully nobody minds lol

It wasn't your fault that Hobi had never seen "A Quiet Place". He had mentioned it as you scrolled through the options on his TV while lounging on his couch like an overgrown cat. Everyone else was in the process of scarfing down their dinner, popping popcorn, and laughing over whatever Jimin and Yoongi were bickering about.

Obviously you had to watch it.

Naturally, the conversation had drifted to a bit more spooky topics. You'd come back from grabbing more popcorn surprised to find Jin talking about his friend that wanted to open up a house they'd inherited for ghost tours.

After nudging Jimin out of the way, you took up your usual spot next to Taehyung. They all watch you with amused eyes, knowing full well that Taehyung is the only one that willingly scratches your back on movie nights.

"Really, like is it the kind of haunted house where people dress up and scare you?" Jungkook asked, his interest piqued.

Jin shook his head. "No, not really. It sounds like they just walk you through the house and tell stories and stuff."

You and Jungkook share a look, already thinking the same thing. A glance at Hobi shows him clutching a blanket to his chest, caught between the events of the film and the conversation taking place.

"We should go," you ventured, immediately earning a startled stare from both Jin and Hobi. The others chuckle in response, Namjoon swatting Jungkook's hand half-heartedly as he tries to steal more popcorn from him.

"...noooo," Jin began. "It's not like it's up and running yet, they're just working on getting it ready for the fall-"

Jungkook picks up where you left off. "Perfect! We can be their test group. That way they'll know what they can do for the general public, get an idea of what works and what doesn't."

You jump in again before Jin can protest more. "C'mon! And besides, this may be your only chance just to go for fun! Otherwise you'd have to find a way to go without running into all of those people, and have to contact management about it..."

Jin sighs, looking at Hobi who stares back at him with an expression of defeat. You grin, Taehyung chuckling beside you.

"Fine."

It was all too easy. Standing here now, you can see just why they want to open this up for ghost tours. Of course you won't admit it, but you already have chills running down your spine.

Or maybe that's just because Jung Hoseok is currently breathing down your neck.

"Alright," Jin's friend, Gina stands at the top of the steps, smiling down at you all. "Everybody ready?"

Jungkook and Taehyung, completely riled up, let out whoops and cheers while everyone else grunts in acknowledgement. Hobi clings to the back of your jacket, whimpering like a lost puppy.

This should be fun.

Jungkook doesn't bother to wait for everyone else, heading straight inside after Gina. Taehyung and Jimin are hot on his heels, joking about something back and forth. You follow after them, glancing back at Hobi with an amused grin.

"Oh," he realizes that he's still clinging to you. "Right." Extracting his hand from your jacket, he lets you move forward. He remains close behind you, Jin at his side.

Namjoon and Yoongi bring up the rear, hardly paying attention to anything that's going on as they chat about a business they saw not far from here.

"We'll begin in the front study here," Gina adopts a spooky tone as she stands in the candlelight. Shadows dance along the walls, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Suddenly you wish that Hobi was still holding onto you.

Slowly, so as to not draw the attention (and teasing) of the maknae line, you step back until you're between Namjoon and Yoongi.

The two of them smirk down at you, knowing full well that you're already spooked.

"What are you doing?" Jin whispers back to you, eyes wide while he rubs his arms as though he's cold. "Trying to abandon us to the ghosts?"

You shake your head fervently, hoping that they don't notice the way you're sneaking your hand into the pocket of Yoongi's jacket.

"No, the middle is the safest place," you argue. Yoongi gives a breathy chuckle beside you, his hand finding yours in the warmth of his pocket and giving it a squeeze. Thankfully the house is dark enough that the blush on your cheeks shouldn't be visible.

Absentmindedly you link your other arm through Namjoon's, hardly able to breathe properly when he instinctively moves closer.

What were you even saying?

"A-and now you've got three in front and three in back. You're totally safe."

Hobi and Jin look at each other like they know exactly what you’re up to, but don't push it as they suddenly begin walking again. Gina leads the way toward the dining room, weaving a tale of how the estranged wife of the owner of the house swore she would never leave the property.

"Did she?" Jungkook asks from the front, peeking in closed off rooms along the way. You can't help but marvel at his fearlessness.

Gina's eyes glow with excitement, almost as though she were waiting for someone to ask that. "No. Years later, when the owner sold the house, the new occupants said they found a sealed off room in the basement." You gasp, the sound echoing through the hallway. You miss the look Jimin gives you, too attached to the story.

"What..." you clutch Namjoon's arm, the fabric of his jacket bunching in your hand. "Did they ever open up the room?"

Gina grins. "They did. They hired someone to come and open the sealed door. However, the man they hired only got about halfway before quitting. He was terrified."

Yoongi leans down to whisper in your ear. "Are you trying to cut off my circulation?"

It's only then that you notice you've been squeezing his hand with startling strength. "Whoops." Going to remove your hand from his, he frowns, holding it tighter before you can move.

Well, if this isn't a rollercoaster of emotions.

"Why was he so scared?" Namjoon pipes up beside you, a hint of a smile gracing his features as he reads the expression on your face. Oh, you're so screwed. "Did he find something?"

"It's not so much what he found as what he didn't," Gina replies. "But we'll have to save that for last. For now, the dining room. Come on in, everyone."

Hobi looks back at you, a mixture of horror and overall curiosity on his face. “Oh, she’s good.”

Indeed, Gina definitely seems to have a way with words. You’re just having a hard time understanding them as your heart beats loudly enough to drown out any other noises. Yoongi has taken to tracing circles on the back of your hand, which you think are meant to be soothing. 

It only serves to send your heart rate skyrocketing. You stare at the portrait on the far end of the dining room, practically boring holes into the painting of the young woman. 

Breathe, don’t do anything stupid.

“...alright?”

You blink, finding yourself to be the sudden center of attention. Jungkook grins widely at you. 

“What?”

Jungkook repeats his question. “Are you doing alright?”

“Oh.”

Jimin bursts out laughing. “That’s not an answer, jagiya. Need us to protect you from the ghosts?”

Your wide eyes immediately give you away, and even Gina is offering you a look of pity before deciding to continue on with the tour. Before you embarrass yourself even more, you slip out of Yoongi and Namjoon’s grasp, sneaking up behind Jin and Hobi.

“Hello boys,” you drawl, making Hobi nearly jump out of his skin. You earn a laugh from the group, Jin chuckling at his scared friend. Hobi just glares at you. 

“This sucks,” he whispers to you, pulling you up to stand between him and Jin. Immediately they stick to your sides like magnets and you realize that you have indeed done something stupid as Jin’s breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as he goes to whisper something to you.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it would seem. Your heart certainly agrees. 

“I’m not scared, you know,” Jin whispers. You take a deep breath, reminded yourself that these idiots are your best friends, not menu items. 

You shoot him an incredulous look. “I doubt that.”

He grins at you, eyes lingering a bit longer than usual. “You’ll see.”

Tearing your eyes away from his and hearing his deep chuckle, you wonder if it’s too late to ask Gina where the nearest exit is. 

Don’t do anything stupid.

“Shall we head up to the attic?” Gina asks. “It’s a small space, we can only go three at a time. However, there are some really interesting old photographs up there that we should look at.”

In the blink of an eye everyone is paired off, and you find yourself face to face with Jimin. He grins at you like the Cheshire Cat, making you wonder if he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this house. 

Jin and Hobi have the glorious opportunity to go up together while Gina leads the way, and several screams accompany their little trip. In the middle of the candlelight in the hallway, you chuckle with the rest of your friends. 

“It’s been interesting so far,” Jungkook muses. “I really want to know what they found in that sealed off basement room.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “Mmm. Or rather, what they didn’t find.”

“What does that even mean?”

Nobody is given a chance to answer Jungkook’s question as Hobi and Jin come scrambling down the ladder, faces pale even as they laugh. Gina chuckles from above, beckoning the next pair to come up.

Jimin looks at you with an arched brow. “Wanna go next?”

“Sure.” You follow him up the ladder, laughing as Jin recounts how he swore the woman in the photograph blinked. 

The attic is filled with moonlight, and under other circumstances it might be pretty. However, amongst the old heirlooms sits an ominous scrapbook, filled with black and white photos of less-than-happy people. 

Jimin reaches down, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet as you look around. When he lets go you aren’t sure whether or not to be disappointed. 

You’ve hardly made up your mind when he leads you to where Gina stands beside the scrapbook and slips behind you. A moment later his arms encircle your waist, chin propped up on your shoulder. 

So there’s that. 

Gina points to the first photo, a grim-looking man standing behind a chair where a young woman sits smiling. “This is the estranged wife, before she was estranged, of course. And this is the owner of the house. From what we’ve been able to dig up about his past - no pun intended - he was always deathly serious.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations going straight into your spine. Unsure of what to do with your arms, you gently place them atop his arms around your middle. 

You swear he smiles for a moment before turning pensive again. “Why did they separate?” You manage to ask, applauding yourself for getting a complete sentence out while Park Jimin hugs you from behind. 

“Rumor has it she cheated on him with his best friend,” Gina whispers, pointing to another photo where the solemn owner stands beside a smiling man. “He was driven mad with jealousy. Terrible, isn’t it?”

Gina gives you a long look, and suddenly you straighten your spine. “I-uh, yeah. Horrible.”

She shows us another photo, explaining something about it while Jimin mumbles out a couple of questions. You hardly process any of it, staring at Gina and wondering if she thinks that you are somehow cheating.

But on who? Jin, maybe? Since that’s her friend?

“Alright, send up the next pair,” Gina croons. Jimin detaches himself from you, suddenly leaving you cold. You turn to follow him, but stop as Gina places a hand on your arm. 

“Yes?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone even. Gina motions for Jimin to keep going, pulling you back to the scrapbook. She tilts her head to one side. 

“Forgive me for maybe overstepping a boundary but...” she motions toward the ladder, where everyone waits below. “Don’t tell me you’re flirting with all of them.”

Your eyes widen, and a breathy laugh comes out. “Me? What? N-no. They’re my best friends, why would I-”

Gina laughs, the sound too loud for the small attic. “Well, they’re flirting with you.” She playfully elbows me. “Speaking from girl to girl...enjoy it. For the rest of us.”

Nearly choking, you frown but nod all the same. “...ok?” When she makes no move to say anything else, you head down the ladder. The boys look up at me with confused looks, Jimin waiting at the bottom to make sure you get down safely. 

“What was that about?” Jin asks, looking a little nervous. “She didn’t say anything to make you uncomfortable, did she?”

You blink at him, wondering for a moment if the boys have always been like this around you. Surely not. It’s just the haunted house bringing out this protective side, right?

Right?

“No, she just wanted to show me something else. She’s actually really nice.” You think.

The other groups go up, and nothing else happens to pique your interest. Gina comes down last of all, giving you a wink before walking down the hallway. 

“I think we’re ready to go down to the basement, everyone!”

Somehow you end up at the front, surrounded on all sides by the maknae line. You crane your neck, looking back to see the older boys all lost in a heated discussion. Hobi catches your eye after a moment, elbowing Namjoon who looks up at you with fake innocence. 

You frown, Gina’s words coming back to you. “They’re flirting with you.”

You must have lost your mind. Was the haunted house really that traumatizing as to make you start coming up with such ridiculous things? How silly of you. 

The feeling of a hand resting on the small of your back has you yelping, jumping to face forward again. Taehyung gives you a sheepish grin. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, gently pushing you forward to stand in front of him. “Are you really that spooked?”

“I...no.” You fail to come up with a complete sentence, but shrug it off. Taehyung smiles brightly at you, gesturing for you to head down the stairs. 

“You seem distracted tonight, are you alright?” 

The way your heart had begun palpitating calms down as you notice the obvious concern on Taehyung’s face. You give him a small smile, allowing yourself to relish the feeling of his fingers splayed against your back as you move down the stairs. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Just distracted by the story.”

Taehyung looks at you for a moment longer, not quite believing you but shrugging it off. He brings both hands to your shoulders as you enter the basement, an obvious chill in the air. 

You fight off a shiver, Taehyung noticing and beginning to rub at your arms in an attempt to warm you up. Gina immediately notices the action, hiding a smile as she pretends to cough. 

“Well,” she says once her ‘coughing fit’ subsides. “We’ve made it to the final leg of the tour. How’s it been so far?”

This time everyone cheers with renewed vigor, although a part of you has a hunch that it’s because Hobi knows he’s nearing the end of this scary experience. The thought makes you grin. 

“Earlier, you guys asked me what was found in the sealed off room. It’s easier to show you, rather than explain.” Gina walks backward, motioning for everyone to follow her. It’s darker down here, only a few candles light the way. Despite being surrounded by people you trust, you can’t fight the fear that sneaks inside of you. 

Rounding a corner, you see a small hallway with a half-open door. Jin curses behind you, clearly feeling just as freaked out as you.

“Remember how the estranged wife said she’d never leave this place?” Gina nods toward the door and dark entryway. “In that room there’s evidence that she may have had an...extended stay here. It’s very small, and the door only opens to a certain point. Almost as though whoever designed it didn’t want to have an easy escape point.”

Chills run down your spine, and even Taehyung’s ministrations pause for a moment as he takes in this new information. 

Jungkook speaks up, ever the curious one. “Wait...her body isn’t still here, right?”

Gina shakes her head. “No, although we think that she may have been buried somewhere on the property. We have yet to find her, though.”

“That...” you shake your head, shuffling from foot to foot. “That sounds so ominous. Like she still walks the property or something.”

The smile Gina sends you is enough to make your blood run cold. “We haven’t ruled anything out.” She gestures toward the door. “Due to fire hazards, we can only have two people at a time in the hallway and in the room. Do I have any volunteers?”

Jungkook’s hand immediately shoots up in the air, and he looks at his hyungs pleadingly. You remain still as a statue, refusing to look up for fear of being called on. 

You swear you can almost hear Taehyung sigh before he speaks. “Well, obviously you have to go.” He nudges you forward, and you whirl on him in absolute horror. 

“What?!” You shout. “How could you betray me like this?! I- no way!”

The boys can’t help but laugh at you, Namjoon clapping Taehyung on the shoulder. Taehyung gives you an apologetic look, shrugging. 

“C’mon, I’ll keep you safe,” Jungkook promises, his big pleading eyes on yours.

You hate how you can never say no to him. 

Gina pats your shoulder as you walk past, laughing lightly. “Have fun,” she croons. “Ok everyone, let’s go into the open area just around the corner-”

“You’re leaving us?!” You shout again, stopping in your tracks. “Noooo, no no. Not happening.”

“Jungkook will take care of you,” Yoongi says over his shoulder. “Or do you not trust him?”

Jungkook pauses, looking at you with those big brown eyes. “You don’t trust me?”

Yoongi chuckles darkly before leaving the hallway, and you know he’s aware of what he did. You’ll have to make him pay for it later. 

Possibly in the form of food.

“No, I do Kook,” you sigh. He extends his hand out to you, waiting patiently. 

You take it a little too quickly.

Gina was right, the door only opens to a certain point, leaving you no choice but to shimmy through. Jungkook inspects the entire area, pointing out what looks to be scratches on the doorframe. You shiver. 

“It’s not real,” he reassures you, keeping his hand in yours as he shimmies into the room. You hesitate for a moment, daring to glance at where your hands are connected before following after him. 

It’s nearly pitch black in the room, hardly allowing for you to see anything. “Can you even see anything?”

Jungkook laughs, squeezing your hand. “Nope. I think we’ll have to wait for our eyes to adjust. You good?”

You squeeze back. “Yeah, I think-”

The door is shut.

The door is shut. 

Suddenly delved into complete darkness, your breath hitches in your throat. “Jungkook,” you whimper. “Jungkook, I’m scared-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook hushes you, pulling you closer until you bump into his chest. “You’re fine. They’re just pulling a prank on us.” 

Without thinking anything other than, I’m too young to die, you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist, burrowing your head against his chest as he chuckles. 

“I can’t die, Jungkook,” you mumble into his chest. “I’m too young. I have so much to do. I have a test this week to take, and I’ve studied so hard for it, I have to take it. That’d be so stupid to die before taking that dumb test. And I have to yell at Yoongi or something, I don’t know-”

Jungkook’s giddy laughter pulls you out of your daze, and if you weren’t so scared you would be glaring at him. He laces his fingers behind your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers into the dark, making every last thought eddy out of your brain. “Have I ever told you that before?”

Finding just enough willpower to move, you shake your head. Jungkook harrumphs above you, the sound almost pulling a giggle from you. Then you remember the situation you’re currently in. 

Jungkook sighs. “Well, you are. That, and a lot of other things. Would you like me to tell you what else I think you are?”

Hands bunching in the fabric of his clothes, you find your voice. “...yes.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Scary smart. It’s horrifying.” A chuckle bubbles up from your chest. “And inclusive. That’s so underrated these days, you know? But you’re always making sure everyone is involved and enjoying themselves.”

You can tell that he’s holding his breath from the way his chest has stopped moving, and you’re about to ask him if he’s alright when he hesitantly runs his fingers through your hair. 

If that wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, he lets out a shaky breath before continuing on. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you those things before.”

You manage a laugh. “I’m sorry that it took us going on a haunted house tour for you to say it.”

Jungkook smiles down at you, your eyes finally adjusted to the dim room. He stares at you for a long moment, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

You wonder if you’d let him.

He must see the question in your eyes, but he gives you a knowing look before heading toward the door, making sure your hand is in his. 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, testing the door and giggling at your sigh of relief when the door is unlocked. 

“Worry about what?” You feign ignorance. Jungkook sees right through your, tugging you along as you head out the door. 

He shrugs, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes as pink no doubt paints his cheeks. “You know...overstepping any boundaries.” He looks down at his feet. “Making a move.”

“Why?” The question comes out before you can stop it, and you inwardly curse yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at your inquiry. 

The sound of everyone chatting makes you almost want to cry with relief. They must be just around the corner, waiting for you to return. 

Jungkook leans over, whispering to you. “Because we have a pact.”

You turn to question him further, eyes wide. He anticipates this, taking long strides until you find yourselves back in the open area with everyone else. 

“We’re back!” Jungkook announces, shooting you a smirk. You can’t help but stare at him, mouth slightly agape. 

A pact?

Gina smiles broadly. “How was the room? Did you find anything interesting?”

You shake your head, trying and failing to stop yourself from overanalyzing every glance the boys give you. “...no. I was too freaked out to even look around after the door closed on us.”

“Yeah, who did that? We didn’t even hear you guys,” Jungkook asks. 

Everyone looks at the two of you before looking at Gina, clearly just as confused. 

Gina, on the other hand, looks absolutely terrified. 

“Ummm...” she begins, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself up. “Remember how I said that we haven’t ever found the body of the estranged wife?”

You nod your head but stop, the words sinking in. The hairs on the back of your neck rise up, and you find yourself shuffling over to stand next to Jin, clinging to his arm. 

“Yeah...” Namjoon says, eyes darting around the room.

Gina sighs. “Alright, everyone, single file line. Head out as quickly and quietly as possible.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

masterlist

this has been turned into a series!

 series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

oooh so spooky ;) 

[arrantsnowdrop]

To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien​

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match. 

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Spooky Stories to Hold Them Close

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Reader Modern AU

A/N:  I’ve got camping on the brain so I wrote a camp AU. There is a manga character mentioned in here but I morph them a bit to fit what I’m going for so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Please enjoy!  Shinobu: If there are any spirits out here tonight tell me, does this sound like Shakira? lolay lolay lo- 

Word Count: 4,821

It was summer again, and (Y/n) groaned as they removed their camp issued baseball cap to swipe at the sweat that had accumulated over their brow. Not even the cheap material could save them from the intense heat of the day. God, they would kill to be back at the counselor’s cabin to enjoy just a smidge of AC but no, instead they were out with the unruly boys of Cabin K, making sure that they carried out their punishment of hard labor after causing a food fight in the mess hall.

“Come on boys, those canoes better be sparkling if you’re going to be taking your sweet time like this.” (Y/n) called, fanning themself with their hat.

“There’s a spider in this one!” Zenitsu cried. “This is so gross, there’s no way anyone’s ever cleaned these before!”

“Don’t worry Zenitsu, I’ll get it.” Tanjirou smiled earnestly.

(Y/n) felt bad for that kid. He was such an enabler though. The others looked up to him and respected him a lot. Who knows how much better it be if he knocked their heads more often. But because of his soft and nurturing demeanor, Tanjirou was always getting caught up in his cabin mates’ shenanigans. Speaking of which...

“Inosuke! If so much as a toe goes in that water you’ll be at the craft table with the junior kids making macaroni art until the only color you know yellow!” (Y/n) warned.

A strangled wail mixed with a roar left the boy’s mouth, the sound didn’t even sound like it could come from a human being. It was like that boy was a feral boar. Given how he’s kept coming back year after year, he may as well be just that.

“It’s hot! I’ll wash the boat in the lake!” He yelled, pulling the canoe closer to the sandy beach.

“Inosuke I’m serious! Macaroni art! That, and I’ll call your mother!” (Y/n) yelled back.

“Damn you and your sick threats!”

“My, still at it are we?”

(Y/n) sighed, turning with a tight smile towards Shinobu as their fellow counselor came up beside them. They tried not to let their eyes wander too long over the expanse of soft looking skin Shinobu’s shorts left exposed.

“Yeah, and as you can see, Tomioka ditched me to go help Sabito with something.” (Y/n) huffed, returning a watchful eye over Inosuke as he dragged the canoe back up to the others.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Shinobu tutted, stepping closer to rub (Y/n)’s back as a sign of sympathy. The proximity brought the scent of sunscreen and damp earth to (Y/n)’s nose. It was an intoxicating scent that (Y/n) had grown to associate with Shinobu always.

“Yeah, are you getting ready for swim lessons right now? Tradesies?” They asked hopefully, mustering up the best puppy dog eyes they could make. They only succeeded in making Shinobu laugh though, which honestly, wasn’t a bad constellation prize.

“Mm, no, sorry. You’re not the only one wanting to get relief from this heatwave.” Shinobu pinched the front of her shirt pulling at it to circulate some airflow. A motion (Y/n) definitely did not follow with their eyes.

“I did grab you and the boys some water though.” Shinobu said, digging into the drawstring bag that was slung over her shoulder and presenting (Y/n) with four bottles of cold water. “And to think I purposfully didn’t get one for Tomioka and he isn’t even here to stare off into the middle distance. Such a waste.”

“You’re such a bully sometimes, you know that?” (Y/n) chuckled, placing all bottles at their feet except for one, “remind me to stay on your good side.”

“You’d really be on my good side if you came to the counselor fire after the kids turn in. The theme is Fright Night, sponsored by yours truly,” Shinobu winked playfully.

Immediately (Y/n) felt a tad ill. “Fright Night?”

“Yes!” Shinobu nodded, a small, yet very excited grin on her face, “it’ll be held at Hangman’s Clearing, of course, a full night of frightening tales and games by the fire... and delicious treats! Provided Mitsuri doesn’t eat them all on the way. You’ll come, right?”

(Y/n) wasn’t particularly fond of the supernatural or chilling tales of murder or other dark themes. In fact, it would be fair to say they loathed them. They hated being scared and this themed get together should have had (Y/n) running in the opposite direction. ‘Should have’ being the key in this situation.

Shinobu looked so hopeful, waiting expectantly for (Y/n)’s reply. It would be impossible to say no to that face. A face that (Y/n) looked forward to seeing every summer and was always desperately looking for an excuse to see as often as possible. It couldn’t be that bad, right? (Y/n) could handle a few spooks in exchange for hanging out with Shinobu all night. Yeah, they could do this.

“It’s not a trick question, (Y/n). A simple yes or no would suffice.” Shinobu teased. “Though if it helps sway your decision at all, it would make me really happy if you would come.”

And with that, (Y/n)’s fate was sealed.

“Okay, sure, yeah, I’ll come.” (Y/n) bashfully agreed, their heartbeat picking up in pace at Shinobu’s delighted giggle.

“Great! I’ll see you at the clearing at ten. Don’t be late or,” she suddenly latched on to (Y/n)’s arm, startling them, “the ghosts will get you!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” (Y/n) laughed weakly. Their skin tingling from where Shinobu had grabbed them.

“I better get to the beach, the kids are getting antsy.” Shinobu said before proceeding to pull her shirt over her head. She was wearing her swimsuit of course, but still. (Y/n) nearly had an aneurysm because of the casual reveal. “See you later, (Y/n).”

“Sssseee you. Bye. Thanks for the water.” (Y/n) then made themselves busy by taking several sips of said water.

“Anytime,” Shinobu’s eyes traveled past (Y/n)’s body before returning to them with a sympathetic smile, “looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) squinted before their eyes blew wide and they jerked their head back in the direction of the canoes. “Tanjirou, why is there a canoe in that tree! I swear I can’t leave you guys alone for two minutes!” (Y/n) stalked over to the boys and Shinobu watched their back, laughing as (Y/n) ran up to Inosuke and tackled him to the ground before he could scale the tree with another canoe.

***

Night fell much too quickly after a full day of scheduled activities and once all the campers had retired to their cabins for curfew, (Y/n) knew their time to mentally prepare for the counselor fire had run out. At least they hadn’t had to walk to the clearing themself, as they had bumped into Mitsuri and Iguro at the edge of the forest entrance.

Iguro seemed miffed that his alone time with the bubbly counselor had been interrupted but Mitsuri was all too happy to catch up with (Y/n) about their day as they walked to Hangman’s Clearing.

Soon the light of a fire could be seen between the trees and they met up with the other counselors who had decided to join in. Sitting around the fire, (Y/n) saw Kyoujurou and Tengen talking to each other while poking at the fire. (Y/n) frowned, wondering where Shinobu was.

“Boo!”

It took everything in (Y/n)’s power to swallow the scream that threatened to spill from their mouth as arms wrapped around them from behind. Instead it turned into a pitiful and embarrassing squeak. (Y/n) wasn’t sure which would have been better.

“Oh dear, (Y/n). Did I startle you? I’m sorry.” Shinobu released (Y/n) from her hold and patted their shoulder.

“It’s okay!” (Y/n) promised, not wanting Shinobu to feel bad. “Besides, that’s kind of the point of tonight, isn’t it?”

“Right! I’m glad you could come (Y/n). I didn’t know if you liked scary things.” Shinobu said as they followed Mitsuri and Iguro to the fire.

“Yeah...” (Y/n) replied, lying against their better judgment. They just wanted Shinobu to think they were cool, impress her somehow maybe. “Horror is.. great.”

“Is this it?” Tengen asked, leaning his back against a sturdy log.

“Yes. Gyomei is staying behind to keep an ear out for the kids, as are Sabito and Tomioka. Sanemi said the whole thing wasn’t worth his time.” Shinobu explained as she took her own seat at the fire, motioning for (Y/n) to sit next to her.

“Did you even really invite Tomioka?” Tengen snorted.

“Of course I did, but as you all know, Tomioka is a wet blanket so he declined and Sabito decided to stay with him.” Shinobu clapped her hands against her thighs, “Now, enough about them. Let’s get the festivities started, shall we? Mitsuri, you brought the goods?”

“I sure did!” Mitsuri cheered, taking the nearly overflowing backpack she had been toting off of her shoulders. It landed in the dirt with a heavy thud. “I’ve got s’more fixings, jiffy pop, chips, sodas, water, hotdogs...”

“Wow Mitsuri, you really went all out. How did you carry it all?” (Y/n) marveled.

Mitsuri flexed one of her biceps, smacking the muscle with her hand. “Strength, pure will power and an intense love of all things delicious!” She said, her lips curled into an adorable smile.

The counselor fire started out great. For the first hour they all talked and ate, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the twinkle of the stars, laughing with each other as they recalled the memories that they had made over the years.

But like anything else, the conversation dried to a slow trickle and most of the food had been polished off. The once hearty blaze of the fire was now a low flame with glowing embers. Shinobu took it as her cue to begin the main event.

(Y/n) blinked at the sudden brightness that flashed beside them. They squinted against the light and saw that Shinobu was brandishing a flashlight, highlighting her face for a moment before moving the light to cast shadows over the sinister smile growing across her face.

“Anyone have a scary story they’d like to share or are you all content to dive into the main event?” Shinobu asked, placing her free hand confidently over her chest.

“Oo! I got one, Shinobu! Pick me!” Mitsuri called, calling out in her seat beside Iguro.

“Alright, catch!” Shinobu tossed the flashlight to Mitsuri who caught it with an excited squee.

“Okay, so, um.. oh! Once, there was this girl who woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. She decided that she wanted a midnight snack and remembered that there was still a piece of her favorite raspberry cheesecake left. A perfect creamy treat! She could practically taste it already.”

Mitsuri wiggled on the log, leaning forward in her excitement. Light from the fire illuminated the green tips of her hair making them appear to glow.

“So she got out of her warm and comfy bed and crept into the dark, cold hallway, thump thump thump, and down the squeaky stairs, squeak squawk squeak, until she finally made it to the kitchen.

Mitsuri reached out towards the fire with her free hand and made a motion like grabbing a door, slowly pulling it back.

“She opened the refrigerator door and then—“ Mitsuri slapped her hand down upon her thigh with startling force, “to her absolute horror, she remembered that she had eaten the last piece of cheesecake at lunch the previous day! There was no more cheesecake to be had, and she had to settle for confetti cake ice cream when what she was really craving was the cheesecake!”

Mitsuri shook her head sorrowfully, and Iguro rubbed a soothing hand over her back while she collected herself.

“The end.” Mitsuri finished, clicking the flashlight off.

“Haha! Good one Mitsuri. The emotion behind your tale made it feel so real!” Kyoujirou loudly proclaimed. Shinobu giggled from her seat beside (Y/n) who also couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“It was real!” Mitsuri said seriously. “It happened to me just a couple weeks ago!” she shuddered.

“I don’t know, that was hardly scary Kanroji.” Tengen shrugged.

“I’d like to see you do better!” Mitsuri pouted.

“I could, but I’d rather let Kochou get on with her activities. Her knee is bouncing. Impatient, Kochou?”

“Ha ha! That it is!” Kyoujirou laughed.

“I can wait,” Shinobu countered, her leg ceased its bouncing due to being caught. “Does anyone else want to share a story?”

A chorus of head shakes met Shinobu’s question and she shrugged, a sly smiling curling at her lips.

“Very well then, Mitsuri, the flashlight please.”

“You got it!” Mitsuri cheered, tossing the light back to Shinobu.

Shinobu clicked the light back on, her eyes roamed over her audience one by one.

“Have you all heard of the serial killer Douma the Cannibal?” Shinobu asked.

“Of course,” Iguro spoke up. “He killed at least seventy women throughout the 1910s until well into the 1920s. However, their still connecting cold case murders to him even now. Some experts believe he could have killed well over two hundred. A really despicable monster to say the least.”

“Very true.” Shinobu nodded solemnly, “His parents ran a cult, believing he was some kind of messiah or deity. They let him do whatever he wished. It started with the killings of small animals but quickly escalated once that had lost its appeal. We don’t know much of motivations, but it’s believed he killed simply because he enjoyed it. Famously developing a taste for his victims after he ran out of places to store them.”

(Y/n) shivered, clutching themself in a hug as they waited for Shinobu to continue. This was worse than any old ghost story, the girl beside them was talking about an actual person! Well, at least he was dead right? Right?

“He was apprehended right here in this very clearing actually.” Shinobu said, looking around at the dark forest that surrounded them “The mob hung him, strung him up in one of these trees, hence the name Hangman’s Clearing.”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. Why here, he couldn’t be dead someplace else? And they made a fucking summer camp here, what the actual fuck? Suddenly the woods seemed much more sinister.

“He deserved it of course,” Shinobu continued with a sigh, “but just think of what we could have learned if they chained him up instead. There are still many bodies unaccounted for. But perhaps,” Shinobu turned to (Y/n), making them jump a little as her hand slid behind them to pick up a box.

“But perhaps tonight, in the field where he gasped for his last breaths, we can learn something from beyond.”

Oh hell to the fucking no. She was holding a goddamn ouija board and matching planchette.

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the back of their neck rise to attention. There was no way, how could they get themself out of this? Calling upon the spirit of a serial killer was not what they had signed up for. Everyone else however, seemed to lean in and stare with excitement at the prospect, even Mitsuri quickly hopped out of her seat to sit on Shinobu’s other side.

“Oo, oo! Shinobu what a good idea!” she cheered.

A good idea? Mitsuri, honey, what is wrong with you, respectfully. (Y/n) held their face in their hand. That girl had been their only chance of escape, but she seemed just as invested as everyone else!

“Thank you, let’s get this set up then, shall we?” Shinobu grinned.

Tengen and Kyoujirou pushed the logs around into a makeshift table and everyone kneeled around it. Shinobu placed the board and planchette neatly in the middle, beckoning everyone to place a finger on the planchette.

(Y/n) jolted to attention as Shinobu placed her hand over theirs, giving them a questioning glance.

“(Y/n), are you still with us?” She teased.

“Yeah, sorry.” They gulped, watching in dismay as Shinobu smiled at them and pulled their hand up to the board, curling all fingers but one and playfully pushing it against the planchette before placing her own over the wood. There was no getting out of this.

Shinobu then went on about how the board worked and what not, (Y/n) didn’t really listen, too busy trying to find their happy place and pretend they weren’t there.

“Are there any spirits with us tonight?” Shinobu asked, pulling (Y/n) out of their head at the most inopportune moment.

At first there was no movement, for which (Y/n) was thankful, but ever so slowly the planchette did move.

“K-Kyou, you aren’t pushing it are you?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask.

“Not at all my friend!” Kyoujirou heartily replied as the planchette continued moving in (Y/n)’s direction.

The fact that it was moving in their direction wasn’t the issue, but rather the fact that (Y/n)’s corner of the board had ‘yes’ written on it.

“Ah, a yes! This is so exciting!” Mitsuri wiggled.

“Nice, how flamboyant!” Tengen added, pumping his free fist.

“What is your name spirit?” Shinobu continued.

(Y/n) let out a shaky breath as the planchette moved away from them. Watching with dread as it skimmed across the board.

‘D’

‘O’

‘U’

‘M’

‘A’

Fuck.

“Where are the victims you buried in these woods, you worthless, demonic bastard?” Shinobu tensed beside (Y/n), concentrating heavily on the board, her tone was commanding as she demanded an answer.

(Y/n) would have found it extremely attractive if they weren’t already scared out of their mind. The taunting of a serial killer ghost was the last thing they wanted to be a part of. Especially if they were talking demons, (Y/n) was too young to die like this. Well, they’d never be at an age where death by demon possession would seem favorable, but that was not the point!

The planchette moved across several letters and (Y/n) lost track of what was being spelled out. Which was just as well, ignorance is bliss after all, right? They waited for the others to figure it out with bated breath.

“Follow the sounds of the woods and we’ll find the signs, hm?” Iguro muttered. “Sounds like a trap.”

“What does it matter? Not like ghosts exist anyway. This is all a part of the ambiance, right Shinobu?” Tengen laughed, laying back on his forearms.

“I wasn’t pushing the planchette if that’s what you are suggesting, Uzui.” Shinobu answered seriously. “But if anyone else wants to confess to it, by all means don’t waste our time.”

“I didn’t!” Mitsuri denied while Iguro shook his head.

“I didn’t either.” (Y/n) also spoke up, an undetectable tremor pulled at their vocal chords.

“Nor have I!” Kyoujirou boomed.

“Then there is only one way to know for sure that this is all legitimate,” Shinobu said, brandishing the small lantern she had lit to illuminate the board, “we break off and search the surrounding woods.”

“Break off? Like, search in the dark alone?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask for clarification. Couldn’t they all just head back to the cabins together and watch a movie on Tengen’s smuggled DVD player and forget this whole mess?

“No, not alone,” Shinobu smiled, looping her free arm through (Y/n)’s, “that would be too dangerous. Pairs would be better.”

“I’m going with Kanroji.” Iguro immediately declared. Mitsuri wiggled and clapped, happy to go with him.

“Guess that leaves you and me,” Tengen grinned, fist bumping Kyoujirou, “let’s kick some ghost ass!”

“Yes!” Kyoujirou enthusiastically replied.

“Great, then it’s decided!” Shinobu nodded, squeezing (Y/n)’s arm closer to her as she stood up, pulling them up with her. “Meet back here in half an hour?”

A range of approvals sounded and once they synced up their watches (since phones weren’t allowed at camp), the three separate pairs went off in different directions into the dark woods.

(Y/n) used to love these woods, coming back summer after summer, it was one of the things they looked forward to every year. It only took about twenty minutes for them to learn to hate it as Shinobu led them through the bramble and roots by lantern light.

“You’re being awfully quiet, something on your mind?” Shinobu asked after an owl hooted in the distance, startling (Y/n) a bit.

“No, I’m just,” (Y/n) made a vague gesture with their hands, “concentrating, I guess.” They finished lamely.

Shinobu hummed in amusement, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. It is all rather exciting isn’t it? I hope we find something.”

“Mhmm.” (Y/n) forced a smile as Shinobu looked over her shoulder at them. It quickly fell from their face once Shinobu turned to face front again, guiding (Y/n) further down the darkened path.

(Y/n) had never been more tense in their life. They didn’t know if they were thankful for Shinobu’s commentary as they kept walking or if they wanted her to be quiet so they could hear any approaching threat. Whatever the case, they kept their mouth shut. Only answering Shinobu with one word responses, affirming or negative noises or just the shake or nod of their head when Shinobu would look back at them. If Shinobu thought it odd, she didn’t comment on her fellow counselor’s behavior.

After awhile, (Y/n) attempted to pretend they were somewhere else again. Still with Shinobu, but somewhere nice like an amusement park or a beach at sunset... maybe sunrise instead. (Y/n) was jostled from their musings when Shinobu stopped suddenly, causing (Y/n) to bump into her.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered, spiking (Y/n) blood pressure through the roof.

“No.” They squeaked.

“Listen.” Shinobu hushed, pulling (Y/n) down to their knees, they both crouched to the ground, listening so hard their ears were buzzing.

A snapping of a branch in the distance, the rustle of leaves.

“What,” (Y/n) swallowed, “what was that?” They whispered.

“Shhh,” Shinobu exhaled, covering (Y/n)’s lips with her fingers as she continued to listen.

It was quiet again, and as Shinobu gave up on listening and removed her fingers from over (Y/n)’s mouth—

“KYYYYAAAAAHHHH!”

A loud scream could be heard far off in the trees, then everything went quiet again for all of three seconds before (Y/n) absolutely lost it.

“Oh my god!” They gasped, clutching Shinobu’s arm tightly to their chest, their eyes wide and unfocused. “Oh my god, that sounded like Mitsuri! Oh god, oh fuck! Shit!”

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu looked at them, a bewildered expression molding her face as she observed their sudden outburst. She quickly moved to comfort them though, setting the lantern down to hug them, rubbing their back as it shuddered with ragged breaths. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re okay.”

“For now!” (Y/n) frantically retorted. “It’s only a matter of time before whatever got Mitsuri and Iguro come for us!”

“(Y/n), wait—“ Shinobu tried to calm them, but they just kept spiraling.

“Why did I agree to this? I should have left the second you took out that ouija board, but no! I stayed just so I could spend more time with you and now we’re gonna be murdered by a demon serial killer ghost before I could finally work up the courage to ask you out!”

“(Y/n)!” Shinobu tried again, speaking a bit sharper this time, forcing (Y/n) to look at her and hoping to calm them with her attentions. “Hey, we’re going to be alright. You’re alright. Listen to me, okay? I set this all up.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) weakly croaked.

“I messed with the ouija board. We weren’t really communicating with anything. I planned for us to split off into groups. We heard Mitsuri scream because—“

“Who’s ready to die!?” A loud maniacal laugh sounded behind them and a chainsaw roared to life.

(Y/n) screamed, otherwise paralyzed in Shinobu’s embrace. Their head tucked under Shinobu’s with their cheek pressed snugly against her chest as they waited for the chainsaw blade to tear through their skin.

“Sanemi, turn that off right now! Stop, damn you!” Shinobu yelled over the noise.

“Okay, okay!” the false murderer, Sanemi, turned off the whirring blade with a tisk. “I was only following your own instructions, Kochou. Why are you looking at me like I was really gonna... oh damn, are they okay?” Sanemi winced, gesturing at (Y/n) quivering in Shinobu’s arms like a leaf.

“Do they look okay to you?” Shinobu huffed, more angry at herself than Sanemi. She continued rubbing at (Y/n)’s back, trying to coax them out of their tight ball while Sanemi stood by awkwardly at the side, rubbing his neck and looking into the woods.

“I’ll uh, gather everybody up and take ‘em back to camp.” Sanemi eventually spoke up. “You have things all under control here?”

“Yes, please go. Thank you Sanemi.” Shinobu shooed him off, not even looking away from (Y/n) as she did so. As Sanemi lumbered back into the forest Shinobu continued to help (Y/n) calm down.

“It’ll be okay, you’ll be alright. I’m so sorry. It’s all over now. It’s just you and me and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” Shinobu promised. “Can you look at me (Y/n), please?”

Ever so slowly, (Y/n) pulled back. They were still visibly shaken and meek which pulled heavily on Shinobu’s heart.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) shuddered, closing in on themself as they looked away from Shinobu, “I ruined your event.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything.” Shinobu spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “I should have noticed you weren’t having a good time.”

“I was having a good time at first. I just really wanted to spend time with you, I thought I could handle it.”

“You can spend time with me whenever you want; all you need to do is ask.” Shinobu smiled softly. “And if anything makes you uncomfortable I want you to tell me right away, okay?”

“Okay,” (Y/n) sniffed.

“I think we’ve spent enough time in the woods tonight.” Shinobu stood, holding her hand out for (Y/n) to take.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) chuckled weakly, accepting the hand and rising to their feet. Shinobu kept her hold on them as she picked up the lantern and guided (Y/n) back to the cabins.

Once they reached the clearing, the other counselors involved in the night’s festivities surrounded them, making sure everything was alright. Mitsuri gave (Y/n) a long, comforting hug while Kyoujirou squeezed their shoulder warmly. Tengen and Iguro shared a few kind sentiments and Sanemi grumbled out a sincere apology for scaring them so badly.

As everyone was turning in to their bunks for the night, Shinobu stopped in front of (Y/n)’s bunk as they were pulling back the covers, waving Tengen’s contraband DVD player in her hand.

“Hey, so, I figured you might have a hard time sleeping tonight. Would you want to watch a movie with me?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think that would help a lot. As long as it’s not horror anyway.” (Y/n) added.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson,” Shinobu shook her head making herself at home in (Y/n)’s bunk as she untangled the ear buds, “a romantic comedy is just about as far from horror as one can get I think.”

(Y/n) tried to give Shinobu her own space, but the small bunk didn’t leave much room for that and Shinobu didn’t seem interested in preserving her personal space anyway. Instead pulling (Y/n) to rest against her side after she set everything up.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, finger poised over the play button.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) nodded against her shoulder, “thanks.”

“Of course.” Shinobu nodded, pressing play.

As the movie played they quietly made fun of it together and commented on the events as they transpired. Once earning Tengen’s wrath for laughing a little too loud while the rest were trying to sleep.

“You know,” (Y/n) whispered during one of the lulls in the story, “if you wanted to watch a horror movie with me some other time I think I could do it if you stayed by my side like this.” They bashfully admitted.

“Well, there is one coming out that I’d like to see this fall...” Shinobu informed with a teasing smile and (Y/n) scoffed lightly.

“I don’t like how quickly you came up with a plan, but I’ll look forward to it.” They said.

“Hey, it’s still a ways off. I hope to have several tamer dates between now and then.” Shinobu casually dropped.

“You do?” (Y/n)’s face grew warm, “With me?” They added just in case, making Shinobu giggle and nod her head.

“Yes, with you. So think of what you want to do for our next free day.”

(Y/n) grinned and snuggled further into Shinobu’s side.

Eventually they fell asleep while Shinobu’s fingers lightly scratched the back of their neck. She turned off the movie and carefully set the DVD player on the floor below. Then she curled up against (Y/n) and fell asleep as well.

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[stolen-pen-name23]

KATIEEEE THAT PROMPT LIST IS AMAZING YOUR MIND—

ahhh there are so many good ones okay maybe #15 with anakin and ahsoka??

FIONA MY LOVE I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER!!!! //from this prompt list// prompts now closed//

Here ya go!

---

Sickness looms thick in the air like humidity blanketing a coastline.

Refugee camps breed a lot of things – desperation, camaraderie, hunger – but disease is the most ruthless of its spawn. Ahsoka can feel the lives of these poor, tired souls blinking out like so many ancient stars.

Anakin walks beside her, and from the weary set of his shoulders, she knows he senses it too.

They are here to provide relief, but Ahsoka fears they are too late. Hundreds of people lie in sick beds, their emaciated bodies lacking the strength to fend off the virus that has circulated the camp.

The sour scent of bile and death fills Ahsoka’s nostrils and she grimaces. She shifts the heavy backpack full of medicines and vaccines on her shoulders and hears the vials clink against each other.

Anakin falters.

“What is it, Master?”

“Maybe you should go back to the ship,” he says nervously, eagle eyes scanning the hundreds of dead and dying.

“Why?”

“I don’t like the look of this disease.”

“It’s non-transmissible to Togruta. If anything, you should go back to the ship.”

Anakin waves off her protests but does not make her go back to the ship. Instead, he leads the way to a makeshift office area. A woman, haggard but determined, greets them.

“Are you the Jedi?” she asks, hope glinting in her bright eyes.

“Yes. We’ve come with the supplies. There is more on our ship, but we have some here to get started with,” Anakin says.

“Excellent,” the woman says. “We cannot thank you enough. These vaccines will save many lives.”

“Of course. It is the least the Republic can offer.”

Anakin returns to the ship to unload more supplies while Ahsoka stays and begins to help the woman organize the medicines and vaccines.

She pauses and looks around at the desperate scene before her.

These refugees all fled Separatist-controlled planets in search of asylum — in search of hope. Their hopes were dashed when disease broke out in the camp. Now, with every life-saving vial Ahsoka unpacks, she prays to the Force that their hope can be restored.

---

The Resolute has been in hyperspace for two days. Ahsoka knows the journey from the outer rim planet back to Coruscant is a long one, but this knowledge fails to stave off the boredom.

She knocks on the door to Anakin’s quarters impatiently. Ahsoka hasn’t seen him all day and quite frankly, she just needs someone to talk to. She is about to give up and try searching for him in the hangars when he opens the door.

He looks… disheveled.

“Ahsoka? Do you need something?” he asks, voice husky from sleep.

“Did you just wake up?”

“Aren’t you the one always telling me I need to sleep more?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s Obi-Wan and honestly you should listen to him when he tells you to do that.”

“Whatever. Did you need something?” Anakin asks again.

“No, I was just bored. I wanted to see if you wanted to spar. But you look tired so…”

“No, no, I can spar. Just give me a minute to get changed.”

He gestures for her to step inside and she lets the door click closed behind her. His quarters are warm and stuffy and Ahsoka once again finds herself resenting the desert planet he was born on. Ahsoka liked warmth, but having the heater on this high was a tad ridiculous.

��I don’t know how you stand to have it so warm in here.”

“It’s a reasonable temperature,” Anakin says defensively, rifling around in his dresser drawers.

“It’s a reasonable temperature for lizards,” Ahsoka says unimpressed.

She takes a moment to step toward him and give him a closer look. “Are humans supposed to be this pale?”

“I’m not pale,” Anakin says. “Maybe it’s the lighting.”

“The lighting is fine,” Ahsoka says. “But you aren’t.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Anakin says with a conviction so strong Ahsoka would have believed him had he not stumbled forward as he said it. He manages to catch himself and stay upright, but Ahsoka isn’t fooled.

“Are you sure you didn’t pick something up from that refugee camp?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Anakin says. “We’re not as susceptible to contagious diseases, you know that.”

“Not as susceptible, but not immune either,” Ahsoka replies nervously.

It is true that a side-effect of Force sensitivity is heightened stamina and a higher immunity against illness, but that does not mean Jedi are invincible.

Anakin stumbles forward again. This time he puts a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“Master?” Ahsoka asks with concern.

“I’m fine. I’m fine… just a little dizzy,” Anakin says just before sliding down the wall to the floor.

“Anakin!”

Ahsoka rushes forward and grabs his shoulders before his head can hit the ground. “Master?”

“Ahsoka, I’m—”

“Stop saying you’re fine, you’re clearly not fine,” Ahsoka says, a frantic edge creeping into her voice.

“I’m dizzy,” Anakin mumbles. “Was gonna say I’m dizzy.”

This confirmation doesn’t make Ahsoka feel better. She presses her hand to his forehead and winces.

“I don’t think humans are supposed to get this hot,” she says. “I think you did catch something from that camp.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly, his eyes closing. “Just gonna sleep it off.”

“Master…”

“I’ll be fine in the morning,” Anakin insisted. “Just… just need to sleep.”

Anakin’s eyes close right there on the floor. Ahsoka groans. She does not want to drag him all the way to his bed or to the medbay.

“Promise not to get mad,” Ahsoka says as she pulls out her comm.

---

The steady beeping from the heartrate monitor is as comforting as it is annoying. Ahsoka has been listening to it’s rhythmic chimes for hours now, so when the pace changes just slightly Ahsoka shoots up in her seat.

“Master?” Ahsoka asks hopefully.

Anakin groans, his eyes open just a sliver and Ahsoka puts herself in his line of sight.

“Snips?” he asks softly.

“Hey Skyguy. How are you feeling?” Ahsoka asks.

“I feel alright. I told you I just needed to sleep it off.”

“Anakin, you were asleep for 26 hours.”

Anakin’s eyes widen. “Twenty-six?”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says bitterly. “Twenty-six. And no you did not just ‘sleep it off.’ Kix had to put you on an IV. You were lucky we still had some medicine after we gave so much of it to that refugee camp.”

Anakin shrinks back from her ire, but Ahsoka doesn’t have it in her to feel guilty.

“I’m sorry, Snips, I didn’t realize it was—”

“Oh you didn’t realize it was that bad? You passed out in your room and I had to get Kix to send some clones to come and carry you here.”

Anakin looks around like he’s just noticing that he’s not in his quarters.

“Ahsoka, I’m sorry, but you need—”

“If you’re about to tell me to calm down, you can save it.”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin says softly. “Talk to me. What’s going on? I’ve been hurt much worse than this before. Why are you so angry with me now?”

Ahsoka huffs and crosses her arms. She looks away from Anakin.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin says, his voice turning more commanding. “Please tell me.”

Ahsoka sits down on Anakin’s bed, but doesn’t look at him. “At the… at the camp. All those people… they were dying and so many of them were dead and I saw you collapse and you wouldn’t respond to me and I was just…”

“You were scared,” Anakin finishes.

Ahsoka keeps her gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

“It’s alright to be scared, Ahsoka. You just can’t let it control you.”

“I know,” Ahsoka sighs. “But I still don’t like it.”

“I know. I don’t like it either,” Anakin says.

They sit in silence together, tension still hanging in the air.

“You look exhausted,” Anakin says, breaking the still quiet.

“I’ve been here,” Ahsoka says.

“Come on,” Anakin says, gesturing for her to come lay down with him. “Let’s both get some rest.”

Ahsoka offers him a smile and climbs into the small medical bed. Anakin lifts the blankets and she slides in next to him, laying her head on his chest.

“Master?” she asks after getting settled in.

“Yeah, Snips?”

“Don’t do that again.”

Anakin laughs and the deep rumble of it in his chest reverberates through her montrals.

“I’ll do my best, Padawan.”

[cazimagines]

First of all congratulations on 937 followers.

I have a request for a sub!zemo where him and the reader try something new where maybe zemo gets tied up and blindfolded and the reader messes with his senses a bit.

Thanks

Ooo, I actually have a one-shot a bit similar to this here, but it was one of my first times writing smut and I've definitely improved since then so I'm gonna go at it again

Zemo tilted his head as his eyes fixed upon you standing before him, rope in hand.

He was stretched out before you, nothing hiding his modesty from when you had, not so gently tore his clothes off. He had been bratty this evening, attempting to rile you up by teasing you for the way you had screwed up the previous mission the two of you were on.

He wanted to see how far he could push you and to see exactly what you would do to him.

This, however... wasn't expected.

"Sometimes you are a right brat Helmut" you glowed, glaring down at his form before you as he chooses to sit up, smirking.

"Oh but you love it so" he purrs, the grin on his face showing off his cheeky nature.

"Ah, but brats need to be taught a lesson"

"And what lesson, mind I asking, is that?" Zemo instantly responds, the fire igniting in his eyes with excitement and he brushed his tongue over his lips.

You hesitate for just a moment, seeing how the prospect of being punished excited Zemo, but you knew by the end he'd be feeling the full extent of it and hopefully, and least for the next week he wouldn't be as bratty.

"Hold out your hands for me"

He eagerly thrust his hands forward, wanting to feel the way the rope would tighten around his wrists, wanting to be restrained by you. It was a first for the two of you, he didn't even know you had them, but now he felt his heart pound because of it.

You carefully wrapped the red ropes around his wrist, ensuring they were bound together and that he couldn't slip out of them. You wanted to make sure they were tight enough so he felt uncomfortable as they pressed into his skin, but not enough to cut off his circulation.

He looked a sight, sitting before you, hands bound to the end of the rope which you were holding, his chest heaving, hair falling over his forehead. You yanked the rope back, causing him to fall back onto the bed with a yelp of surprise. With the end of the rope in hand, you tied it to the bedpost so that Zemo's arms were pulled above him, making the muscles in his arms strain. He tried to pull his hands, testing to see if it held, secure, which it did.

You weren't done there, however. Quickly you reached into the draw under the bed and pulled out some more rope causing Zemo to frown in confusion. His eyes quickly widened however when your hands grasped his legs, pulling one to each side of the bedpost and tying the rope around his feet and to the bed, leaving him unable to move at all.

Finally, you pulled out one last thing, a blindfold, and walked over to Zemo. He whimpered slightly realising you were going to take away his sight but still he leaned his head forward to allow you to do so.

As he was surrounded by darkness, he felt goosebumps rise up his skin, trying to anticipate where you were. He twisted his hips, the only part of his body he could move when he felt a hand quickly brush up against his thigh. He jolted at the contact, but as soon as it was there it disappeared again, making him moan in frustration.

Next, a hand touched his nipple on his other side, pinching it which caused him to let out an embarrassing moan. He squeezed his eyes shut, not that that mattered, however.

With his eyesight removed, his other senses became heightened, he could hear you walking around the room, your footsteps echoing on the wooden floor yet he couldn't place where you were walking to. His sense of touch drastically heightened, so that every little touch as him twisting in his bonds, groaning from the sensation.

For the next 15 minutes, you left him like this, slowly becoming more and more desperate for your touch to remain on him, for your touch on his aching cock which throbbed from the stimulation.

He was on the verge of crying out from this constant barrage of stimulation when finally your soft, warm hands wrapped around his cock. Instantly he thrust his hips forward, his feet pulling on his restraints as he let out a lewd moan of relief.

Slowly, but steadily you started to pump him, watching the way he squirmed, pulling against the ropes, aching to touch you but alas all he could do was lie back and feel the overwhelming pleasure crash over him in waves, pushing him to the brink, and as your thumb grazed over his sensitive tip, he was pushed over and crashed into his pleasure, his back arching as he came all over your hand.

Cazzy's 900 celebration

[kai-writes-fan-fiction]

In Hiding Part 6

Author’s Announcement: Hey guys! I really appreciate all of the recent feedback and the patience. My life has been pretty hectic these last few weeks, so as a reward for your patience, this is the longest part yet, and I’m really proud of it! I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. Doctors scare me so sorry if the “medical” part of the story is shitty.

Word count: 2567

Warnings: mentions of blood, bodily harm, non-consensual medical treatment, reader is StRaNgLeD, tiny OCD routine, slight language, non-descriptive violence, and grammatical/spelling errors.

The Avengers were everything you hated. They were destructive, they took whatever they wanted without a thought about anyone else, and they loved behind a façade. You’d seen who The Avengers truly were; they were menacing, inhumane, and lacked empathy. They could’ve just left you alone; you weren’t hurting anyone. You may have been doing some illegal things, but they were minor offenses! You’d never killed, and you were against terrorism of any kind. You just wanted to go home, wanted to be left alone. Your freedom had been stripped away after you’d made your final decision. You wouldn’t fight with The Avengers; you’d do everything in your power to get away from them.

You looked up from the floor of your cell, into the eyes of Steve and Bucky, and you could tell they knew what was coming next. You were stronger than them; you could easily overpower them. They’d seen it earlier when you grabbed their wrists, and every second you sat in that godforsaken cell, you became more immune to the effect of the material blocking your powers around you.

You intimidated them, and you knew it. You knew that your time in this compound was running out, and soon you’d be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. You repeated the phrase in your head five times to lock it in.

You felt that you were ready to share your decision. “I’d never fight for you people, never. Never. Never! NEVER! NEVER!! You people are killers; you take everything for yourselves! You’ve destroyed cities, taken the lives of so many innocents. How can you live with yourselves?” You yelled. Your eyes had begun glowing, and your hair was lifted off of your head as your volume increased. “How?!” You questioned, your eyes shining brighter.

Steve and Bucky were backing into corners of your room, staring down at you. A blue aura began to form around you, illuminating the room in a vibrate blue. Your crossed legs began to levitate off of the ground, and a strong wind began to sweep through the room in a circular motion.

You didn’t want to fight, this trick took all of your energy, and the two super soldiers were helpless, so you decided this would be the perfect time to escape.

As soon as you turned to the wall farthest from the room, which you hoped would lead outside, a particularly strong wave of fatigue hit you. The wind and your aura began to dim, but Steve and Bucky knew not to lunge at you yet.

A string of mumbled curses fell from your mouth, and you let your feet descend onto the ground. This might conserve your energy so you could put more into escaping this wretched complex.

Being back on the ground and looking less powerful, Steve decided to go for it. He jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into him; you could only wiggle your hands.

Lifting you off the ground, he tried to make it so you couldn’t use your feet as any leverage.

“Fucking dick!” You yelled, thrashing in his arms.

“Language!” He yelled.

You’d had enough of his bullshit and began thrashing more. His grip only tightened, but you were still stronger. There was a vent located right above you, so you flew out of his arms.

You tucked your legs into your chest after he tried to reach out for them and stretched your arms, reaching for the vent. You swiftly pulled it off its hinges and forced yourself into the circulation system.

The tunnels weren’t dissimilar to a maze, you tried to go in one direction, but after 20 or so corners, you have turned around. The alarms blaring throughout the compound, warning everyone of your escape, were bringing about an awful migraine, and you were becoming more and more fatigued by the minute. You wouldn’t stop, though.

You had heard a few voices in the tunnels with you, as well as footsteps. You made sure to avoid them, and after 10 minutes of wandering through the ventilation, you found an air vent to the outside. You pushed hard, and with the last bit of strength you had left, the vent became dislodged. You tumbled out and plummeted about two stories before hiding the ground with a painful ‘thud.’

You crumpled into a ball on the grass, and you felt blood trickle down your forehead. You could also no longer feel your right foot, meaning it was broken. Everything hurt, but your ribs were also a very obviously damaged part of your body. Every time you moved, you felt a shooting pain.

You slowly sat up and wiped the blood from your face, and the amount of blood on your hand was startling. You looked around other parts of your body to assess the damage and found that your knees and elbows were also bloodied, as well as a few scrapes here and there. You lifter up your blue scrubs to get a better look at your side, where a wide purple and blue patch was starting to form. Hesitantly, you placed two fingers on your side, looking for anything broken. The shooting pain was the response, and you pulled your hand away. It was most likely broken, as was your right ankle. It was also a swelling purple and blue mess, and the pain was begging to hit.

You let your eyes fall away from your body to look at your surroundings. You were greeted by vast green forest on all sides, and behind you stood The Avengers compound. It loomed over you, and you could still hear the alarms blaring from the inside. You struggled to get up, and, to no avail, did you.

So, you lay on the ground, your tribulation had failed, and you were doomed once more. You tucked yourself into a ball and cried.

‘How could you be so weak?’ You thought to yourself. ‘How could you let people like the Avengers-like HYDRA-control you like this?’

It would be best if you found somewhere to hide, and quickly. You wouldn’t let The Avengers control you anymore. You couldn't.

You pushed yourself up, so you were on your hands and knees, but you were weak, and I’m so much agony. You kept pressing on, though. You crawled your way to the forest and let yourself fall behind a tree. You must’ve hit a tripwire or a perimeter alert, as a new set of sirens went off and an automated voice yelled your location. You cursed, but you couldn’t go on much longer. With your injuries and your temporary inability to shift, you had to surrender.

—————Avenger POV—————

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yelled through the team's comms. “Kid’s headed East, and it looks like she’s stopped behind a set of trees. I can see her on cams.”

“Who should we send out there? You saw what she did to Steve and Bucky.” Implored Natasha.

“She looks pretty tired. We could probably take her if we needed to, but I don’t think a fight is in store.” Bucky advised.

“How about we all just go out there?” Steve added sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Good idea, capsicle.” Tony agreed. “Everyone grab your things and meet me in the common room; we’ll all go out and surround her. Bucky, Steve, you go from the East. Natasha and Clint, you guys, take the North. Strange got here a few hours ago, so he and I will take the West. Loki, you’re just going to ignore me, so Thor, go with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. And Bruce? You stay inside; we don’t want a code green, big guy.”

‘Okay’s and ‘mhm’s sounded through the Comms, and three minutes later, everyone was gathered in the common room, looking at one another surreptitiously, not knowing what would greet them on the other side of the doors. They didn’t know whether or not you’d be putting up a fight, but they were about to find out.

“We’re all here? Let’s go then.” Tony commanded. His suit's helmet fell over his face, and he strode forward, everyone else in close pursuit.

—————Your POV—————

You were weaving in and out of consciousness, and you still lay crumpled on the ground in your ball. You felt weak, and you couldn’t think straight. The world was a spinning vortex, and you almost thought you heard voices and feet. You opened your eyes and were met with the face of Tony once more.

SNAP! SNAP! In your face again, but with metal fingers instead of flesh. Tony likes snapping, it seems. You, however, did not. You attempted to growl to ward him off, but you couldn’t produce any kind of sound.

You turned your head slightly to face the rest of the team. They towered over you, weapons drawn and aimed at your face. Typically, you wouldn’t fear them, but in your fragile state, they were pretty threatening.

This wasn't very pleasant. You, one of the most powerful enhanced humans ever, were lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, at the will of The Avengers. They stared down at you, pity written all over their faces. Pity, not a feeling you wanted to be affiliated with.

Two metal arms reached out and wrapped around you, hoisting you up. A sudden rush of adrenaline caused your limbs to begin thrashing about, and the pain from your ankle and ribs subsided. Your sudden movement caused the metal arms encasing your body to pull you closer to the body they attached to. You felt the metal chest and put two and two together. You were in the mostly impenetrable arms of the Iron Man.

Tony picked you up carefully and began walking back into the compound, and the team followed suit. You tried to summon the adrenaline once more, but it didn’t want to come.

Feeling completely vulnerable, you decided to surrender. Yes, it was the cowards’ way out, but did you have another option? Your body was giving up on you, you couldn’t use your powers, and your opponents happened to be the killers of Thanos, another very powerful being.

There was no hope, so you just closed your eyes and allowed the sleep that had been creeping up on you to take over. Your vision faded into black, and the last thing you remembered was the mechanical hum of the Iron Man's suit.

——————————

You awoke to quiet chatter, and a beeping machine you could only assume was a pulse monitor.

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your senses were flooded with a bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol.

You looked up from your supine position to find yourself strapped to a table once more, but stronger and additional restraints were added this time. You still felt weak, and your side and ankle were aching, as well as your head.

An IV was embedded in your forearm, and as your eyes traveled the length of the tube up to the bag supplying it, you found it contained a thick blue substance. It must’ve been combating your powers because you couldn’t shift.

You took in your surroundings and found various members of The Avengers watching you. Creepy.

“Welcome back to the land of the living (Y/N).” Chuckled Tony, “You gave us quite a scare.”

The rest of the team went silent, and Bruce, dressed in a white lab coat, whipped around to face you and ran to your bedside. He whipped out a flashlight and shoved it in your face, his fingers following to hold your eye open while the flashlight shined in.

“Pupils are dilating, so no concussion.” He hummed, moving to your other eye.

He moved to pull a stethoscope from his neck and pressed the bell to your chest. You bit your tongue to stop from yelling out when the cold metal touched your bare skin. You must’ve bitten it when you fell because you sensed a metallic taste in your mouth. Bruce was in spitting distance, so you let the blood and saliva pool in your mouth, and you prepared to launch it towards him.

As soon as he lifted his head, you released your spit bomb. Bruce recoiled and began incessantly wiping his face with gloved hands. A hand flew around your neck, preventing you from spitting again.

Blood dribbled down your chin, and you looked up to the face the hand belonged to. It happened to be the winter soldier, and you grinned up at him, blood coating your teeth. He stared you down, and you did the same. The rest of the team just stood by, wearing “What The Fuck Just Happened” expressions.

Bucky finally released your neck, and Banner walked back over, blood-free and with duct tape.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Tony mocked from behind Bruce as he and Bucky taped your mouth shut.

You tried to shake him off, but your movements were no use. Barnes had a firm grip on your head that prevented you from thrashing about, and Bruce was wrapping your face.

‘Duct tape is the best they can do?’ You thought to yourself. ‘Do they know that duct tape loses its stick when wet?’

You laughed to yourself, and Bruce and Bucky ceased their actions and looked up at you, as did the rest of the team.

“What’re you laughing about?” Bucky snarled.

You only shook your head and rolled your eyes. If they didn’t know, why tell them?

Banner ripped the tape and stepped back. Bucky released your head, and you stared up at the ceiling, hoping they’d all leave.

“The rest of you can go. Bucky, you stay here. I need help controlling her.”

“You got it, Banner.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left, leaving you, Bucky, and Bruce. You looked over to them and stared them down with undeniable murderous intent.

“So, uh, what’re we doing next?” Bucky turned to Bruce, who was still staring you down.

Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked over to Bucky. “She’s still got some injuries from her fall; I need to check those out. Do you have any medical training?”

Bucky nodded. “A little bit, from when I served. Just basic stuff.”

“We can work with that.” Bruce crossed his arms and walked in the direction of your injured ankle.

You tried to get away, but the power suppressors and restraints prevented you from doing anything, so you just wriggled around uselessly.

Banner pressed two fingers to your swollen and bruised ankle, and you bit your tongue to stifle a muffled scream. He moved his fingers to another part of your ankle, and you hit your head against the table to suppress another outcry.

“Bucky, can you grab some Ace bandage? I think the Talus is fractured. We’ll need an X-Ray to make sure, but I doubt she’ll cooperate.”

“I can make her, or we could try sedation.” Bucky offered.

Bruce seemed to rather like that idea, as his brows raised, and he procured a metal syringe.

Forcing it into your arm, you let out a muffled, yet surprised yelp. Immediately after the syringe was removed from your arm, your world began to darken, and you became dizzy.

You tried and failed to resist, but your body gave in, and the last thing you saw was Bucky and Bruce watching you.

To be continued…

Taglist: @oldtrashbin @fleurlovesbucky @hopefuloperaangelnerd @sevenmorningstars @dev-loves-siri @cinematicfanatic123 @sweetpeaflower01 @kinny-away @mangobangi @cumulonimbus34 @oakiedokie @coollemonsaresour @screechingshepherddeputygoth @trinity-1002107 @padmoonyfeorge @laurenced1l @vaaalexandra @big-galaxy-chaos @thoughtsdrought-blog @the-nonsenseblog @inlovewithjohnmulaney

@play-morezeppelin @hi-i-1 @ohashley101 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @marvelfansworld

[whumperscorner]

Ahh your "Strapped to a bomb" fic was so good, thank you for using my request! Would it be alright if I request another? I really enjoy your writing, it really hits the whumpy spot hehe! If it's okay can I request "Rope Burns" with Prompto and dad Cor and/or PromptoxNoctis.

aaah thank you anon! I'm so glad you enjoyed :D Now, I don't actually have "Rope Burns" on my bingo card, maybe it's possible you've looked at a different card before requesting? That's no biggie though, and I do love the prompt, so I've decided to try to combine it a bit with whumptober :3

Hope this one's still enjoyable <3

Whumptober 2021 day 1.- Bound

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 2444

Warnings: restraints and manhandling, slight descriptions of injury

Prompto doesn't really mind working late shifts. Sure, it can be a bit spooky sometimes, especially closing up alone like today. The gas station he works at isn't exactly in the city's most reputable neighbourhood, so the late shifts always bring with them their fair share of 'eccentric' customers. On the other hand, they're also never as busy as the day shifts, and Prompto has never experienced anything actually threatening or dangerous in his time working here. So really, the biggest problem with the closing shifts is the effect they have on his sleep schedule.

This evening's shift goes about as usual. There are a few regular customers early in the evening who Prompto chats with for a bit, then he restocks some shelves and does some cleaning up in the back. At one point there's an odd-looking man in the store who doesn't end up buying anything, just walks around the between the shelves and mutters to himself. Prompto leaves it be, he knows better than to ask or intervene unless he has to. The night rolls by with few notable occurrences, and with just over an hour left before closing time now Prompto doesn't have a lot to do. He texts back and forth with Noctis in the downtime, and the two makes plans to meet up after Prom's shift is done and hang out. It's Friday after all, and Noct has gotten a welcome break from his duties as Prince, so they deserve to have some fun now. Prompto smiles at his screen, having just sent a thumb's up to Noct's suggestion to go watch a late night showing of a movie, when the sound of the door opening and closing catches his attention. He quickly puts the phone away and begins talking entirely from habit as he looks up to meet the customer.

"Welcome, what can I-" then he stops. What meets him when he looks towards the entrance, only a few feet away, is the barrel of a gun trained directly at him. Prompto's words get stuck in his throat, and he makes a small, choked gasp instead as his eyes widen. The first thing he notices is the gun and it takes him a second to take in the men standing there too. There are two of them, the one holding the gun and one other, both wearing masks and both carrying big duffel bags. Prompto's eyes flicker between the men for one terrifying moment where nothing happens, then it's as if his body is on autopilot. He rushes to the side of the counter where he knows the emergency button is located, no thoughts in his head except that he needs to alert someone. A gunshot rings out, and Prompto feels something whizz by in front of him. One of the shelves on the wall behind the counter crumbles, sending various snacks flying everywhere. Prompto stops dead in his tracks. The adrenaline previously coursing through him is gone now.

"Do as I say if you want to live." says the man holding the gun. His voice is somewhat muffled by the mask, but it still sends shivers run down Prompto's spine. He manages a slight nod and stands as still as he can as the two men approach. "Step out here." is the next order, accompanied by a quick gesture with the gun. "Hands up. No sudden movements."

Prompto obeys. What other choice does he have? His hands are trembling when he brings them up, and he has to force himself to move out from behind the counter and closer to the men. It's like his body doesn't want to move and blood rushes in his ears, making the whole situation feel surreal. When he finally stops the man with the gun nods quickly towards his accomplice, who rushes forward and closes the remaining distance between Prompto and the assailants. He throws the duffel bag onto the ground, where it lands with a heavy *thud*. Prompto gets no time to wonder what's in it though, as the man quickly grabs one of his wrists in an iron hold and wrestles him down to the floor. Prompto groans at the rough handling, and desperately tries to squirm into a more comfortable position. However, that only results in the man grabbing his hair harshly and tugging his head back.

"Stay fucking quiet." He hisses through Prompto's pained cry. Prompto whimpers out a weak apology, and when the man lets go of his hair he doesn't struggle anymore. Not even when the masked assailant reaches for the duffel bag and begins rummaging in it, pinning Prom down with a knee uncomfortably placed between his shoulder blades. It would be easier to wriggle free now, but one look up at the other man and then gun still trained on him makes Prompto quickly abandon that thought. The man holding him seems to have found what he's looking for in the bag and before Prompto can even begin to wonder about it he feels his hands being tugged in place behind his back and coarse rope tied around them. Prompto yelps at the feeling but doesn't dare struggle too much. There's laughter from behind him, though he can't tell which of the men it's from, possibly both. In any case he can feel the bindings on his hands being tightened maybe just a little too much, and he winces. This time it's definitely the one holding him the laughter comes from.

"Oh, did that hurt doll? Sorry, I'll make it better." He says, in a sort of mocking polite tone. Another strip of the rope is added just above the one already around his wrists and this one, to Prompto's horror, is tightened even harder. It forces Prompto's shoulders into a slightly weird position and comes dangerously close to cutting off circulation in his hands. Then the man turns him over, so he lies on his back on the floor instead of on his stomach. Prompto can't hold back the pained noises when the new position pulls on his bound hands.

"Don't overdo it now." says the other man, but he too chuckles at Prompto's hopeless expression. He turns back to what he was doing before, which Prompto now sees is seemingly emptying the cash register of anything and everything in it. Prompto's heart sinks, and he's just beginning to think this evening has reached it's all time low when the man pauses. "But gag him too, just to be sure." He adds, and Prompto can almost hear the wicked smile behind the mask.

He sends the man sitting over him a pleading look, though he knows it will be futile. And soon enough a filthy rag from the duffel bag has been balled up and forced into his mouth. The smell from it alone makes Prompto want to gag. He tries a couple times to spit it out, only for that to earn him a harsh slap and an order not to do that. Then the man stands up, leaving Prompto bound on the floor as he himself joins the other man in looting whatever items of even marginal value may be in the store. Prompto stays still in his uncomfortable position as they move about around him, not daring to move. All through this some small part of Prompto has been hoping that someone would appear to intervene, or would notice the disturbance and call for help, but now the reality of the situation is settling in. And the uncomfortable reality is that if no one has come running at this point then it's likely no one will. Gunshots in this area aren't a rarity, and Prompto is beginning to suspect that even if he had reached the emergency button the police wouldn't have come. The hopelessness of it all settles heavily in his stomach.

Prompto doesn't know how long he lays still there, but eventually the pull on his shoulders and the rope digging into the skin around his wrists gets too bad. With considerable effort he begins turning himself over on the side, to a position that is hopefully less straining. The movement catches the attention of one of the men though, the one carrying the gun, and he strides over. Prompto can see a dangerous twinkle in his eyes through the holes in the mask. Correctly guessing that that cannot mean anything good, Prompto keeps squirming and kicks his feet on the floor in an attempt to scurry away. He wants as much distance between himself and the man as possible. The man cackles at this and crouches down on the floor, where he quickly grabs hold of one of Prompto's flailing legs and drags him back. His tightly bound hands scraping against the tile floor makes pain flare up beneath Prompto, and he whines desperately into the gag.

When Prompto is deemed to be close enough the man lets go of his legs, and before he gets the chance to try anything again the man leans over him and tightens a strong hand around his chin. Prompto's eyes are wide and fearful now when the man's fingers are digging into his face with bruising force. "Didn't I tell you not to move around?" He all but spits in Prompto's face. Prompto makes no motion in reply. He only shuts his eyes tightly in pain when the man suddenly yanks his head up uncomfortably, only to slam it back down into the floor. Pain explodes from the back of Prompto's head, and he cries out into the gag. The man yanks him back up again, this time by his shirt, and Prompto follows limply. Just then, as Prompto sits half upright in the man's grip waiting for the inevitable pain, the unmistakeable sound of the door opening and closing stops everyone in their tracks.

There, by the door, is Noctis. The realization hits Prompto that his shift must've ended. Noct has come here for him, and relief fills his chest to the brim. At the sight that meets him Noct has also stopped dead in his tracks. With wide eyes he looks from Prompto on the floor to the man holding him and then back again. Then Prompto yells into the gag and wrenches himself out of the man's grip, and it's like the standstill in the room is broken. In the ensuing chaos Prompto just barely has time to see sparks beginning to fly around Noct's hand as he's about to pull something out of the armiger. The man then quickly grabs hold of Prompto again and jams the butt of the gun hard into the side of his head. He's then harshly shoved to the side as the man springs into action, and lands painfully on the hard floor. Black spots dance around the edges of his vision from the pistol-whip and though he tries he doesn't have the strength to sit up again.

He can't see clearly what's going on, only blurred bodies and sparks. Then a gunshot rings out, and another one, and then an enraged yell from one of the men. Worry seeps into Prompto's confused mind, and the longer the scuffle goes on the more it grows. He wants Noctis to be okay, he wants them both to get out of here. By the time the noise comes to an end Prompto is blinking rapidly to try to stop the tears threatening to spill. They're not helping his vision one bit, so when a silhouette hurries towards him fear spikes in him for a short moment. But this one doesn't have a mask, and two larger silhouettes are left behind it.

"N-Noct." He whimpers when the gag is carefully removed and tossed to the side. Above him there's some soft cursing, and then Noctis gently grabs his aching shoulders and helps Prompto sit up straight.

"I- yeah- shit, I'm here Prom." Noct says, fumbling a little with his words as he takes in the state Prom is in, and his brows crease in worry. "What was that?" he asks, nodding hastily towards the men on the ground some ways behind him. They seem to be unconscious now, and Prompto swallows hard before he answers.

"Robbery?" he offers weakly, accompanied by an attempted smile that doesn't quite translate on his tired face. Noctis looks at his with wide, worried eyes. Then it seems he realizes, or remembers maybe, that Prompto's hands are still bound. Again, sparks fly in the air as Noctis summons one of his daggers to cut Prompto free. The ropes are so tight it's difficult to do without accidentally nicking Prom's skin in the process but eventually it works, and Prompto can finally move his arms properly. Almost immediately his shoulders sag in relief, but Prompto's breath hitches when he brings his hands in front of himself again and sees the state they're in. Noctis obviously has a similar reaction and lets slip a small gasp.

The skin around Prompto's wrists and a bit further up the arm is rubbed red and raw by the coarse rope, bruises are already forming where the first rope was tied, and multiple other places blood has been drawn. Most of which cannot possibly be from Noctis' careful cutting. Prompto doesn't say anything, he doesn't know what to say. He only stares at his own trembling hands for a while, seeming almost scared to move them. It's only when Noct extends his own hands and carefully grabs hold of them that Prompto looks up. Noct manages to send Prom a reassuring smile, though a somewhat shaky one still. He begins rubbing his thumbs in soft circles on Prompto's hands, careful to avoid the most severe bruises and cuts, and Prompto lets out a long, wobbly sigh.

"Thank you." Prompto says finally.

"Of course," is Noct's answer, low and genuine. "do you think you can stand?"

Prompto isn't quite sure, but they try regardless. Turns out he can both stand and walk on shaky legs, provided it's with support from Noct. Support he readily gives. They make their way out of the gas station store, and Noctis can't resist giving one of the men an extra kick as they pass them. Then Noct calls Gladio to come pick them up and notifies him of the incident, even if local police likely wouldn't do much Noctis isn't going to let this go so easily. As they sit and wait, leaning their backs against the wall, Prompto nearly dozes off. His head resting on Noct's shoulder. And all the while, Noct never lets go of Prompto's hands and keeps rubbing small calming circles across his skin.

[eoharu]

NO WONDER inguk and boyoung actively suggest how to do their scenes and keep doing adlibs because the script really direct NOTHING.

like... what the fuck (?!) (!!) (? look with eyes) supposed to mean. (if it's only once or twice, i can let it slip. but almost in whole script?? im baffled)

this convo is one of example that show how mess up the script is (i saw other receipts ytd but i can't find it anymore, it seems the op went private. but op show various screenshots of how the writer often use (??)). that scene where dongkyung ask myulmang to live with her, the direction given to myulmang is 'look with eyes' and (?!) . That left so many question instead of explain anything. like look with eyes could be expression of sad, anger, literally anything, and one could interpret it differently. I'm amazed at how inguk could find proper expression, like that look of disbelief followed by smirk right after it's not written in the script but it just fit so well for both of his character and the situation. it's his, or director's idea, idk which one but definitely not the writer, when it's obviously supposed to be her job.

that ambiguous script could be confusing af for the actors, but since we have the pro boyoung and inguk here, on top of that the great director, i feel like they're just happily interpret the script freely on their own. and i sincerely agree (and totally get it now) on how inguk said their chemistry is perfect, like boyoung added they almost had no different in opinion (and this statement matters a lot after knowing this fact omg). they let each other decide and follow right after while adding some suggestions. this situation is so risky because the difference in opinion could ruin the filming atmosphere, but instead we see how much boyoung, inguk, and director goof around and how comfortable they're around each other. It's fascinating to see how the script that lack in that area make boyoung, inguk and director bond become so evident. this could be source of problem, but instead the lack in the script show their great teamwork.

now if you thought that just how the script work, i have read dylb's script (which i translated myself thanks to papago & google translate) and sure a writer use (??) and (!!) but it's just once or twice. most of the time writer really give detailed expression like example this scene:

the writer write how they should act; write how the character should feel embarrassed and what kind of embarrassment it is, pressing down the emotion, worries... and it's left to the actors how they interpret & deliver the embarrassment, the suppressed emotion, the worry that mentioned in the script. but with days the actors themselves have to find how they should react first because the writer only write (look with eyes) then act it out. like they literally had to brainstorm what kind of proper reaction they should've gave in the certain situation first before act it out where basic decent script would've written already by the writer. if you think it's excusable because im meari (days writer) is still a rookie, well... ryu bori (dylb writer) is also a rookie too with only one 16eps drama and mini series experience.

it's simply a lazy writing i think and props to the actors because in terms of how they deliver their respective roles, the lacking script didn't affect it at all and characters expressions and relations shown in the drama just went smoothly and perfectly on point.

seriously. after this circulating script spoiler my respect for boyoung and inguk massively increasing... i mention them in particular because they're literally the backbone of this show, whole drama heavily focused on them, and imagine if myulkyung ain't seopark and someone else who couldnt put up with the writer's lazy writing; i'm not sure i can enjoy days so immensely as i am now.

this whole exposure make me want tell seopark that i admire their acting everyday everytime.

for real.

(ps: i still love days, the plot, its banger line, and its life lesson the writer try to show + i still find it interesting and precious (I'll write about it later hopefully i won't lose my motivation halfway) but the writer really needs to work on her script better. and oh NOT TO MENTION about the ending im still so bitter [thanks bboing for the adlib i love you guys SO MUCH], not about the choice, but the way she wrapped it. IT DEFINITELY COULD'VE DONE BETTER whilst still go with og idea. writer, you really has potential. I'll look forward to your next project and see how much you've improved. for now, I'm still bitter you waste bboing's chemi in last ep).

(ps: i compare dylb and days simply to put things into perspective. and i love both immensely so i think i have right to do so).