#my wrists are in critical condition.

[otiksimr]

Stormy, rainy night

[click image for better quality]

Actual picture of me after drawing this, totally not an exaggeration in any way-

[dravidious]

It's shit like this that stops me from playing magic more often

[anonymusbosch]

oughhhhh medical system.

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks. 

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway. 

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you. 

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator... 

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk. 

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer. 

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such. 

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined. 

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different. 

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her. 

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment. 

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger. 

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails. 

And finally, he answers. 

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat. 

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning. 

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder. 

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary. 

But, you don’t. 

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile. 

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms. 

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting. 

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk. 

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever. 

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“ 

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth. 

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp. 

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead. 

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla. 

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.” 

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

[xllizs]

"What's your favorite scary movie?" Ghostface! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

TAGS: Serial killer, corn maze, halloween, made up characters as readers friends, SMUT

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

You step out of your car into the eerie night, the grass brushing against your ankles. The cold air rushes past your body, making you shiver. You aren’t the biggest fan of this kind of stuff, but your friends wanted to go somewhere over the weekend, and since you miraculously finished all your work this week, you agreed. 

“Wait, are you guys fine leaving around, like, 8:30?” your friend, Himari hushes.

“Yeah, sure, but I kind of wanted to stay longer,” you say back, starting to walk towards the gates.

“Okay, but like, I’m still kind of paranoid because of all that Ghostface shit going around. I just don’t want to take any chances, y’know?”

You turn around and face the car, where Himari and your other friend, Keishi, are standing.

“Oh my god, if you keep mentioning it, then it’s actually gonna happen. You’ll be fine,” Keishi assures her. You nod at Himari with a slight smile. He yanks Himari by her wrist as you push open the gates of the pumpkin patch.

The sun’s glow reflects off of the field, making the lackluster grass look golden. The end of the sky fades into a deep saffron. There are a lot of people, but it isn’t too loud. You breathe in, take in the sight, and then exhale. After you pay for your tickets, you look back at your friends.

“Okay! So, what should we do first?” You ask, eyeing the seemingly endless rows of corn across from you. There’s an arch with a big sign on it that says Haunted Corn Maze at the beginning of the pathway.

“Ooh, we should do that!” Keishi exclaims, lightly jogging towards the entrance. You and Himari glance at each other before you follow suit. 

At the entrance, there’s a wooden A-frame chalkboard with a handful of warnings and disclaimers. Keishi struts up to it, and begins to read.

“Warning: the Haunted Corn Maze is not for the faint of heart. Those who suffer from seizures, asthma, heart conditions, or any physical, mental, or respiratory conditions should not enter. Anyone who enters understands that there may be dangers or hazards– okay I’m not reading all of that. Let’s just go in, I didn’t see anything on their website about it being super scary anyways.”

The three of you start to walk down the path, but you aren’t aware of the critical mistake you’ve all just made.

At the bottom of the chalkboard is written in bold letters: On October 1, 2, and 3, The Haunted Corn Maze will be closed from 7:30-11:00 PM for maintenance.

It’s 7:04, but you sure as hell won’t be leaving for a while.

…

You, Keishi, and Himari, have been walking for a good 20 minutes, running into a few scare actors. It’s gotten darker now, making it harder to stay together. The noise of fake chainsaws not only irritate you, but sometimes drown out the sound of your friends’ voices. As you’re trying to get through the maze, an announcement airs over the speakers.

“Greetings, visitors! We hope you’re having a spooktastic time, this is just a reminder that the Haunted Corn Maze will be closed in 5 minutes due to maintenance. Again, the Haunted Corn Maze will be closed in 5 minutes due to maintenance. Thank you for your cooperation, and we hope you have a good rest of your evening!”

Oh, shit.

“...You have got to be fucking joking,” Himari says in a stern voice. You all stare at each other, then start desperately trying to find a solution.

“Should we call for help… I swear to god I didn’t know… oh my god… are we really stuck… just finish the maze…” 

You all agree that you should just try to find the exit as fast as you can, and if you can’t then at least help will find you. You and your friends start running slowly down the path, panting. It’s gonna take a fucking while for help to arrive, and you don’t want any random people trying to scare you in this anxious state–

Oh. Speak of the devil.

As you turn the corner, you see someone wearing a black robe holding a prop knife. It’s weird, they’re just facing the end of the aisle, which is a dead end. You groan loudly, realizing you have to go back, when the person turns around. The turn is curiously slow. Now, you can see they’re wearing a mask, a Ghostface mask. 

“Hah, Himari, you were right, there is a serial killer,” you sneer. You squint at the figure, trying to inspect them a bit harder, but they start to move their arm, raising the knife, and–

“Oh my fucking god, it’s an actual serial killer!” Himari screams. The knife barely flew past her.

“Himari, calm down, it’s just a prop… see–” You swear, trying to calm her down. Her arms squeeze around you as Keishi approaches the knife. His shaky hands try to cover his mouth, but he’s gawking. 

“N-no, it’s real.” The air turns even colder. You feel sick, like you’re going to puke, but you feel so horribly bare inside. You’re gasping for air, but it feels suffocating somehow. You’d think that your fight or flight instincts would kick in with a situation like this, but you’re just frozen. No way. No fucking way is this real.

“Oh– oh my god, run!” Keishi wails, holding onto both you and Himari as you try to get away. Any color in Himari’s face has completely faded at this point, and Keishi looks so distraught, which hurts to see, comparing it to his usual demeanor. Do something, idiot. Anything, it doesn’t matter, just please do something. You throw yourself away from your friends and take a shaky breath.

“D-don’t,” you choke, “don’t get near my friends, bitch!” You sob, clawing pathetically at the hunting knife on the ground. You didn’t realize how scarily far the knife was thrown, until now. The figure takes a firm, sharp step. 

“Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?!” Himari yells. You’re glad she’s still conscious.

“I-I don’t… I don’t know, just hurry!” You yell back. It’s true, you don’t know what you’re doing, but at least you’re trying to do something, right? 

“Are you sure about this?!”

“Just go! I’ll keep him off for now, just get help, okay?” It’s hilarious, really– because you and your friends are all bawling your eyes out, how the hell are you gonna make it out of here?

Keishi and Himari look back at you before scurrying away frantically. The person in black takes another step towards you. Are you terrified? Probably. Do you think you can beat this guy who’s a foot taller than you? Probably not. Are you still going to try and protect your friends? Of course. 

“How cute,” the man in black coos, his voice muffled by the mask. You’re both taking one step at a time, waiting for the other to act. You blink, and before you know it, he’s almost right in front of you. You hurl the knife at his torso, and then run as fast as you humanly can.

…

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been stuck in this shithole, but it’s definitely been a while; the fatigue is really starting to settle in now. Constantly running around while still trying to keep quiet is excruciatingly difficult, especially when you’re being hunted down by a serial killer. You think you’ve finally lost him. It’s completely dark out now, and you’ve finally accepted that nobody is going to come looking for you. I mean, they would have found you by now, right? You wonder where Himari and Keishi are. It would kind of defeat the whole point of this if they were still stuck in the maze too. You reach into your back pocket for your phone, but there’s nothing there. You reach into the other pocket, but there’s still nothing. Shit, did it fall out while you were running?–

“I feel bad for you, you’re so oblivious it’s almost charming.”

There he is.

In his left hand is the knife from earlier. It’s covered in blood. He must’ve pulled it out. In his right hand is your phone.

“W–what– how did–” You didn’t even realize that you had fallen backwards. Get off your ass, do some–

“Are these your little friends, sweetheart?” He shows you the– oh god– 28 missed calls from you and your friends’ group chat. You haven’t been able to get reception until now, how ridiculous. You don’t have time to mope though, you need to get away from this psycho. 

“What do you want?” Your voice is strangled but still fierce. He cocks his head to the side, then looks back at the phone.

“Hm, they’re calling again,” he shrugs nonchalantly. You stare at him, terrified. How could he sound so normal about this? You start to get up, but then quickly realize it's a dead end. Fuck. He starts to walk towards you. You decide that if he comes at you, you'll try and escape from the side. 

You run towards the open space on his left. His arm moves towards your neck, the bloody knife brushing against your collarbone. 

“There's nowhere to go, doll.” 

He pushes you down, quickly straddling you so you can't move. 

“Why don’t we pick up the phone?” He questions, and you swear you can hear the grin in his voice. What a sly motherfucker. You throw your hands up, trying to get him away from you– not like it's gonna help, he's clearly built. He drops the phone to hold both of your arms together. The other hand quickly slides the knife up to your neck. “Answer the phone, and let your friends know you made it out safely, and that you're okay. Or I’ll slit your throat right now, got it?” His deep, scratchy voice shivers down your spine. You frantically nod your head yes, pleading for your life. “That's what I thought–” the phone rings. “Perfect. Now once I let go of your arms, don't fight back. You won't win.” You were too scared to, now. If you tried, who knows where the knife would end up.  

He lets go of your arms, grabbing the phone and answering it. He puts it on speaker, holding it up between you two. It's still closer to you, and the mic side is facing you. 

“Oh my god! You're alive!” Himari cries out with relief. You catch your breath. 

“Yeah, I got out,” you say, trying to stabilize your shaky voice. 

“Why weren’t you answering your phone? We were about to call the cops,” Keishi lectures you.

“I, uh– sorry, the reception was bad and then my phone died. I'm okay now,” you reassure them. You really wish you were. 

“Alright good, stay safe, we love you!” Himari says in a loving tone. 

‘Wait, guys–” they had already hung up, but you hadn't realized and kept speaking. “Please, he has me– please!” you scream out. You start sobbing, you're done for. Why did you do that? 

“Oohh, you stupid bitch.” He throws your phone. The knife that was just held up to your neck is now in his pocket. 

“No! No! Please! They didn't hear me!” You hiccup mid sentence, trying to catch your breath from sobbing. “I'm so sorry! Please, please! I don't wanna die! Please!” you're hysterical. His hand goes to your neck. Right now, he's just holding it. 

“Would you shut the fuck up? Im not fucking killing you, yet,” he spits out at you. 

His hand adjusts around your neck. For some reason he doesn't want to get rid of you. There's just something about you. He makes sure he puts pressure on the right spot, just to knock you out. 

“No! No! I'm so sorry!” You shriek out. He starts to squeeze your neck, and you instinctively bring your hands up to try and take him off. He grips both of your hands again. You’re gasping for air. You're starting to feel funny. Your vision is blurry. You– you can't get any more air.

…

Cold. It’s a lot colder than before. Am I dead? Where am I? 

Youre propped up on a chair. Your arms are behind you, tied together by something, whatever it is, it's cold, you assume it's handcuffs? Don't know. Surprisingly you can see. 

What about your legs? Can you move them? No. you can't. They're stuck around the chairs legs. 

You aren't able to talk, there's tape on your mouth.

Your visions still blurry, but you’re  trying to decipher where you are. Its dark, maybe a basement?

Clearly its not your house, so whos is it-

Then, all the memories came flooding in of what happened before you blacked out.

Fuck.

You hear somebody walking down the stairs. This time, zero robe. Is this sick fuck seriously wearing a tanktop and sweatpants? Still that stupid ass mask. You notice the bandage near where you stabbed him before. 

 Your face is soaked in tears and you're breathing so loudly. Your heart beat is so loud. The silence breaks when you hear a deep chuckle.

'`Pretty girls awake, huh?” he mocks you. He walks toward you and crouches down. “Oh yeahh, cant talk, can you?..kay’ gimme a sec.” 

Why is he talking to you like he didn't just kidnap you?? 

His hand approaches your face. You close your eyes. He gets a grip on the tape and rips it off fast. It comes off smoother due to your tears. You feel the light burning sensation and whimper. “Get the fuck away from me.” you quietly spoke. 

He scoffs at you. “Nah. Don't worry. You'll be gone soon.” Why does he say it in an assuring tone? Does he expect you to feel better? “Huh???” you start panicking. This can't be happening. He gets up and walks behind you. You follow him with your head as he starts to unlock your cuffs. The tight, cold metal around your wrists is gone. “My knife is in my pocket. Dont fuck with me.”  he tells you fiercely. You nod, if obeying him keeps you alive longer, you'll take it.

Youre free, he got your legs undone. His back is facing you, while he stands only a few feet away. This is your chance! Go! 

You spring up and the second the chair creeked his heels turn and he pushes you towards the ground.

You crash on the cement floor. Your knees automatically ache. He gets on the ground and flips you on your back. 

You are fighting back with everything you got. Moving your arms so he cant grab them. While he tries to keep your legs down, you knock off his mask. Holy fuck.

His raven hair  thats not too messy is revealed. His face and gorgeous green eyes. How is a serial killer, so attractive?

His mouth curls up, you notice a scar on it as he does. He scoffs. Fuck, you are so done, now. Your mouth opens a little from eyeing his face up and down. “You fucking little bitch. Now I really gotta get rid of ya, huh?” he says with a chuckle, acting like it's some sick joke. No, no. you really are gonna die. “Please. Please.” His hand wraps around your neck to pick you up. He leans closer to you. Only a few inches away from your face. “How should I kill you? Hm?” his head leans to the side as he has a small grin. 

Why are you finding the man that wants to kill you attractive? 

“No please. Please. I just graduated college! I have a life to live for! Please! I have so much left to do before I’d even die. Please!” you sob out. Tears coming out again. 

“Yeah?” he lowers his mouth to your ear, “Like what?” he questions. 

Your eyes widen in disgust, he's seriously asking about your future?

You stammer, “Uh- I, are you serious?” it was scary to ask, but you didnt wanna piss him off.

“Yeah.” He moves his head and is staring deeply into your eyes, “Why don't you tell me things you haven't done yet, or what you're planning? Gotta know what you'll miss out on, once I kill you.” he snickers at you. 

Your eyes widen in horror. That word, kill. You’re gonna die.

 “Uh. I mean” you breathe out shakingly, “I guess get a steady job?..and, nevermind. Finally get a boyfriend,” you really didn't understand why you were honestly telling him this, “I don't know-” 

“Nuh uh. Go back, you know you were gonna say something before that, doll.” he coos. 

That nickname. Now that you've seen his face, and you hate to admit it, it did something to you.

“I wasn’t.” you gulp. You both knew it was a lie. 

“You know I didn't believe that for one second.” He takes his knife out and you flinch, “don't worry, i ain't doing anything, yet.” he sneers. “So what was it? Your first kiss?” he starts fidgeting with his knife and his eyes light up, “Oohh, orrr.. are you still a virg-” 

“No!” you cut him off. Obviously, that was what you were going to say, but there was no point in telling the man who's going to kill you that you are. 

“Got ya!! Not very good at being secretive, hm?” he smirks.

He starts to eye you down, stopping where he straddled you. You take the chance to eye him down too. The way his shirt hugs his body. You gotta admit, he makes you wet. Your eyes run down to the tent in his pants. Is he hard? 

“So, you just really dont wanna die a virgin?” he asks

Your cheeks light up in a pink shade. “Why does it matter?” you shoot a question back at him. 

“Ehh, dunno. Personally I wouldnt mind a quick fuck, ‘specially with a pretty girl like you.” that nasty, but very attractive smirk, appears on his face again.

You break eye contact.

Was he attractive? Fuck yes. Would you fuck him in a heartbeat? Definitely. Isn't he planning to kill you? Yep. 

“Tell ya what,” He does a swift move with the knife, “If you let me fuck you, we’ll both get something out of it. You’ll lose your virginity you are so worried about, and I’ll possibly spare your life if its good. Andd, hopefully I’ll get a good fuck. Deal?” He looks you up and down.

Fuck. You mean, you'd do anything to live. And if he wasn't your killer you would accept his offer right away.

“Will I actually live?” you wonder, for all you know he might just stab you mid fuck. 

“Probably. Hopefully that wet cunt of yours is good.” he winks

“Fine. Will it hurt..?” you squint while asking, he chuckles, “ehh, you decide once you see my cock. But first, I want you to suck it. You bite and I slit your throat, ‘kay?” 

You've never sucked cock. You can barely swallow a pill. You try to remember all those stupid things Himari told you once after she gave a few guys head.

You nod at him and he gets off of you. Knife in hand. You watch as he takes his sweatpants off, revealing the large bulge in his boxers. Then, he removes them. Your eyes widen. You've seen porn a few times, and you knew, this was big. He lets out a light laugh. 

He sits on the chair you were on a few moments ago, queueing you to come towards him.

Your knees still hurt so badly, so as pathetic as it was, you crawl towards him. 

As you get between his legs, you get on your knees and wrap your hand around his cock. 

You start to stroke it up and down, spitting on it to help you lube it up. Not sure what to do, you kiss the tip, letting go with a pop noise. Circling his tip with your tongue, he grabs a handful of your hair with his hand gripping it. “That's good. Better start sucking it.” he pants out. His dick spilling with a little of precum still.

You let more spit dangle out of your mouth onto his dick and put your mouth on it. Starting to slide farther down his dick until you gag, you were gonna move back up until he pushes you down and starts bobbing your head up and down. Tears start to brickle out of your eyes and stream down your face. Remembering, you take your and stroke the part that isn't in your mouth. You play with his balls a little, hopefully not doing anything wrong. You stare up into his eyes as they fill with tears from gagging.

“Fuck, youre a fuckin’ slut arent you? You know how to work that mouth.” he grunts 

You start stroking more and he loosens his grip on your hair as you start to bob your head past you limit by yourself. “I’m gonna cum. And it's going in your mouth.” and when he says that, you swear you almost heard a whimper. You rest your hands on his knees, your head moves up and you circle his tip with your tongue one last time and put it far down your throat again. 

His dick twitches as he unleashes a load inside your throat. Without a single thought, you move your head away and swallow it. Why did you enjoy it? “Haha, swallowed it like it was nothing. This really your first time?” he breathes out, trying to get down from his high. His dick is still hard.

“That was good. Can't make any promises on your life though till I fuck that  cunt.” he has a smirk on his face.

You hated how badly you wanted to have this man fuck you. 

He stands up avoiding hitting you as you're still kneeled in front of the chair. You look to the side as if offers a hand to help you up. You question whether or not he's actually gonna help you up, but you take the chance and you're standing up.

 Once you're standing up you barely have a second to look up at his eyes staring into yours before he roughly pushes you against the wall. He pins you down, cupping your face and roughly kissing you. He forces his tongue into your mouth as one of his hands start to run down to your boob, circling around your nipple. 

He bites your lip and sucks on it before he releases and his lips move back a little, a string of salvia following him. He quickly moves down to your neck, you whimper as he bites down then quickly sucking on it. You try to contain you moans but between him playing with your nipple and sucking on your neck, you couldn't. 

He takes his knife and cuts down the middle of your shirt quickly revealing your bra. 

He rips off the rest of it and undoes your bra, letting your boobs fall out. 

He removes his mouth from your neck and starts to suck on your sensitive nipple while his other hand rubs the other one. 

“Fuck~” you moan out. His low breathless chuckle vibrates against your nipple which makes you squirm more. You don't want this to end. You bring your hand to his cock, starting to jerk him off, you move up and down a few times until he unhooks his mouth from your boob and starts to take your pants off, ripping your panties off with them. 

He exams your panties, “Fuckin’ wet, huh?” He throws them to the ground and plays with your clit but soonly he picks you up and your legs wrap around his waist, letting you lean against the wall. 

He slides his cock up and down gathering your slick to help it go in easier, smirking when you shiver every time your clit and his tip make contact. 

“Please-mmmph. Please be careful, I've never,” you try speaking but he pushes his tip in slightly, “Yeah, yeah. Your first fucking time or what not. Does it look like I give two shits?” he thrusts all of it in in one go. You scream out in pleasure and pain. The burn. Hes so deep, you swear you practically feel him in your stomach. Holy shit. 

“Fuuuuckkkkk..you're sucking me in so good.” he groans and his eye roll back as he throws his head back. He waits a few seconds until he starts thrusting in at a slightly fast pace. “Mmpp..- feels soo good!” you moan out unable to hold it back. The pain you felt before is totally gone. 

You've tried to touch yourself before, but you could never reach where he's reaching right now. So many spots you never knew would feel good. He dick kept hitting that exact spot that made you see stars each time. “Godd, you're so fuckin’ tight. You gotta stop squeezing me like that, doll. You'll make me never wanna get out.” he manages to get out between breaths. 

He picks his pace up making your tits jiggle at the same time. As he thrust in, he pushes you into a powerful kiss and forces his tongue in, smashing into yours. He comes out of your mouth slightly and sucks on your lip, leaving a ticklish feeling, but it doesn't last long as bites down on it causing you to whimper and clench around him. “Hm? You liked that huh?” he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, raven hair strands sticking to his forehead. His eyes were so beautiful to look at, they were a beautiful green shade. 

He continues thrusting but goes harder, deeper hitting that same spot over and over again. You start to clench more as he quickened his pace again. You couldn't grasp how he had so much stamina.

“I-i…fuckk.. Please. harder. “  You knew you were close to cumming. “So close..mmppp!” you cry out. “Shiitt. Me too.” he grunts, starting to somehow go harder then he was. The sound of your body's colliding echoing throughout the room, both of your moans syncing with his thrusts. He goes harder, you were seeing stars. You couldn't believe you were losing your virginity to the man who wanted to kill you, the man who is the serial killer, Ghostface. “Cum-ughhhfuck.. Cumming!!” you scream out, your cum gushing around his cock. He continues thrusting as your orgasm, until only a few seconds later he cums inside of you. 

You both are coming down from your high, catching your breath. “Was it good? Am I gonna live? Please.” you question.

“Huh? Yeah. That was really fucking good. You'll live, but I want you around for a while with me."

written by szillx (me) and @ems-interlude !!

TAGLIST: (if you want to be added, check kinktober masterlist for the form!) @slutforfictionalman @queendessi24 @tojishugetiddies @thebestgirlever2 @getosho3cakes @hotvillianapologist @taxevadingblob

[ghostssweetgirl]

Injured, Pt. 3 [smut]

simon ghost riley x fem reader

Part 3 of the Injured series!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part three <- you're here

cw: soft simon, teasing, public sex (hospital room), p in v sex, face sitting, porn with a plot i guess, simon's a siiimp, fluff

minors, do not interact! 18++ only !!

nsfw under the cut!

After an extended mission, one of the worst in your career so far - you sat in the hospital room next to Ghost, finding yourself truly worried about him. You two didn't have an established relationship, yet you couldn't leave his side. You've been here for 3 days, sleeping uncomfortably on the hospital chair, refusing to leave even though he would grumble and complain about your need to return to base - you refused his orders.

No, he wasn't in critical condition, he was mostly fine, save for the fact he had a sprained ankle, fractured wrist, and a stab wound in his shoulder. You knew he was hurting but not letting it show. Plus you remembered your rookie days, when you got shot and he helped you, not leaving your side. 

The nurse brought in food for the both of you and while you ate yours, Simon meekly pushed his away. You softly huffed in a concerned tone. "Simon... You need to eat, hon."

He grunted in response, tilting his head toward you. 

"Don't test me, Lieutenant. I'll hand feed you if I have to," you squinted your eyes at him, to which he replied by rolling his. "Fine, then."

You scoot the chair closer to him, grabbing some bites on the fork. You lift his mask above his nose and lift the fork to his lips, which he hesitantly opened up to eat. "Was that so bad?"

"Fuckin' hate hospital food," he muttered with a mouth full of food.

"I do too, but you have to eat."

He continued to complain but kept eating, making you happy. 

--

While you spoon fed him, you both looked each other in the eyes and childishly, started giggling. You were becoming near delirious from lack of sleep, and he was high off pain medication. His hand rested on your thigh but you saw his dark eyes trail off onto your body.

"Hey, now..." you blushed. "Focus on eating."

"'S hard to when you always look so fuckin' delicious," he grumbled, flirting with you. "I'd rather eat you."

"Simon!" you shushed him, playfully scolding him as your face heated up blush-red. You must admit, it was funny, him being so grumpy while you're finally the one taking care of him. Your hookups have been in secret, but with how long you've stayed by his side it wouldn't be hard for the rest of the team to figure it out. And then you thought about what happened when he took care of you. The desperation for each other in the sex that you had that day. How well he had already knew your body and reveled in each orgasm he drew from you.

"You know you like it."

"Y-yeah, I do," you giggled breathily, trying to focus on feeding him but your thoughts were leading you straight to the gutter. "You really need to finish eating, babe."

"I've ate enough, I'll be fine," he bargained, his fingers massaging deep circles into your hip, which he knew you liked. "I can see you thinkin' about it. Sit on my fuckin' face."

"Simon! What if a nurse walks in?! Si- Fuck," you whisper-yelled, worried about being caught but the way he slow blinked at you up and down with heavy-lidded eyes, you could see the need that was evident. At this moment, it felt like time slowed though your heart raced a million miles per minute. As your eyes fluttered between both of his, you don't know what you were feeling but... would it be so bad to say that you... loved him? 

"Then they get a free show," he chuckled softly, his eyes softening at your loving gaze. His hands wondered up your sides, caressing your ribcage as you leaned into him, planting on your lips on his harshly with fiery passion. "Mm..."

You took his breath away from him in that kiss. The way they melded together so perfectly... It hit you that you, in fact, were ruined for him. No one else could kiss you like this, touch you like this, work you up like this. His hand lazily cupped your face before softly resting at your collarbone. His rough calloused fingers rubbed the delicate skin. 

You had to pull away with a heated gasp to undo your pants. He smirked watching you, eyes aiming at the area he wanted to devour. You laughed lowly, biting your lip as you wiggled your hips out of your panties. 

"Fuckin' hell, what a gorgeous fuckin' figure," he praised, sucking in a breath as a hand reached out to grope and squeeze at your ass and rub up your waist to your hips. "Now sit on my face, want to taste you."

You had to crawl up in an awkward position, but the both of you couldn't care less in this moment. He groaned in slight pain as he scooted down a bit, trying to make it easier on you. As his hands came around to grab hold of where your thighs meet your hips, he pulled your full weight on top of his face. 

"Oh... Fuck~," you whined. "Si- Fuck..."

Your mouth opened in awe, immense pleasure as his lips tightly wrapped around your throbbing clit before spreading and licking down your folds, sucking on them roughly as he let go with a pop before he continued to lap at your bundle of nerves. His hums vibrated against you as you needily grinded on his face.

"Simon, just like that, yes!" you squealed, covering your mouth. He noticed your muffled moans before he chuckled, only pushing his mouth into you harder, pulling you down. "A-are you okay? Ah- does your shoulder hurt?"

You showed concern while all he wanted was to make you cum on his face, he didn't give a shit about the pain no more, it dissipated as he made music from your whimpers and moans. He lightly nipped at your outer lips as a response, earning an exciteful yelp from you. 

You were near to your orgasm, your grip at the head of the bed tightened as your body shook, but as you shook it only rubbed your clit against his expert tongue harsher and faster, far too much for you to handle. Your head lulled back, catching a glimpse of his rock hard cock under the blanket, twitching at your release gushing over his face, leaving a translucent sheen on his chin and cheeks. 

"Simon! N-no more, fuck! Please!" you had to pry yourself from his lips, his strong arms keeping you in place tried to give you a hard time but in his injured state he couldn't fight back too hard. "Holy fuck, I want your cock..."

He didn't answer as he panted, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he's happy to have gotten his way, but now it was your turn. 

You palmed his cock through his sweatpants, the wet precum seeped through the fabric as your fingers teased his clothed slit. He near whimpered at your touch as you freed his cock, his pants pulled down enough for you to ride him. 

You softly crawled on top of him, your tits popping out of your shirt while you were leaned over him. He bit at your nipple, sucking harshly after the impact causing you to lean into his face as you aligned him with your hole, teasing the tip as you slowly sank onto it. A deep growl came from his chest as he felt your grip and he let go of your tit, letting you lean back to take him deeper. You pressed your hands on his chest as you worked towards bouncing on it, allowing yourself to adjust to the stretch, after all, it had been a while since the last time you felt him in you. 

"I think it's kind of funny, sir," you spoke, still riding him slowly, moaning in between pants.

"Fuck... What?" 

You had to pause as he thrusted up, his tip perfectly kissed your cervix and you about lost control right there.

"How... the big, bad, Ghost... got injured..." you sucked in a breath, biting your lip as you looked down at his nearly closed eyes. He was nodding as he was listening, but too focused on the way your cunt wrapped around his thick cock perfectly. "And it's me that's on top of you... riding your cock. Remember... Oh~,"

"Remember when I got shot?"

"Fuuuck, yes, yes I remember..." he muttered through clenched teeth as you planted your legs on either side of him for a better hit, picking up the pace as you softly slammed on his cock. 

"That's what started all of this, right, sir?" 

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, you don't think he heard you. Your hand snaked up his chest to his neck, slightly choking him before you cupped his jaw, rubbing his soft stubble that had leftover slick covering it. His high-pitched whimpers that were falling out of his mouth was bliss. You leaned down, sucking his bottom lip before kissing him with affectionately.

"Are you mine, Simon?"

"Mm~, fuck... Yes, yes, 'M yours," he panted into your mouth.

As you kissed him, his hand held your hand there, your pace slowed as you slowly moved your hips back in forth with fervor. Your pussy was squelching all over him as you couldn't hold back your next release, it was emotional as your eyes teared up, cupping both sides of his jaw as you moaned into each other's mouths. 

He let go with a deep groan, which you eagerly swallowed and allowed him to ride his high as your pace slowed. 

Your body stuttered as you stopped, lowering your knees to either side of him. You were out of breath, but there was something different about... this... the afterwards. 

You held intense eye contact before smiles crept over both of your faces, again laughing childishly together again. 

"I love you, Simon," you smiled, wiping the tears from your eyes. His lips parted as he returned the smile, before removing your hand to wipe the tears himself. 

"I... love you, too," he breathed out in relief, finally admitting the thought on his chest he's withheld for months now.

[hajihiko]

you are so cool and your post-canon designs are so scrunkly. i think the way you incorporate hajime's medical trauma and ptsd into his post-canon design (the eyebags from lack of sleep, the scarring around his wrists, collapsed veins) is beyond interesting.

which bring me to my next question: we have canon designs for the remnants of despair. what would you change about them if you could?

I I don't know if I've seen all of them, but my biggest criticism is; lean into their personalities and stop making them just >:) all the time, the concept of despair + their nuances are more fun than that

I wouldn't rly change Mahiru, Hiyoko, Ibuki Sonia, Fuyuhiko,, Kazuichi, Gundham,, or Teruteru, those are all cool to me visually

Peko, I like the suit, but I'd enjoy something more combat-looking (maybe if she and Fuyuhiko had matching accessories) . Lose the side ponytail

Izuru, their hair shouldn't be Loreal, it should be stringy and gross and they themself should look SO bad

Impostor, just a diff disguise every time not just Byakuya

Mikan, I'd like less typically sexualized and more creep factor, sexualized or not (a disheveled nurse with shaggy hair and a mask is still hot if you're ill enough)

Nekomaru: more beard

Akane: chains everywhere, not just the arm, and more appropriate clothing an physique (give her MUSCLES when shes strong and nothing when she's malnourished)

For my kids, I've already done my own despair concepts, which I like. I think I also did some physical conditions post-wakeup, bit mental, state, that's another topic. Maybe someday

[fiction-box]

Dimitri x F!Reader: Kidnapped Together

This one turned out longer, but I think I was able to communicate everything from the previous ask a bit better (go check it out if you like this one!). The stakes are a bit higher, I had some fun playing around in my head, and this is what came out for you. Enjoy!

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

Dimitri:

“...-tay away from her…”

Voices faded in and out of your head. Of your ears? You weren’t sure if what you were hearing was even real.

“...-ust trying to get her….-et us throu-”

“You have done enough! Stay back!”

That got you up. Your eyes fluttered open, glancing around the room while you shifted into a seated position. The walls were made of brick, but you couldn’t see the door from the three people crowding into the small room. Prince Dimitri stood between you and the strangers.

You moved to stand, but were held down by the chains keeping your wrists close to the floor.

At the rattling you made, Dimitri turned his head ever so slightly to check on you, “Stay down. You mustn't strain yourself.”

“...what?”

“She won’t need to if you just let us tend to-”

“You caused this,” he growled. “I am not so delusional as to allow you to make it worse.”

“Can I please know what’s going on?” you worried, realizing all this directly concerned you.

“Just…stay close to the ground,” he softened his voice a bit to address you. “They hit you on the back of the head while we were hunting in the woods, then used you as leverage to get the upper hand on me.”

A woman in armor gripping a lance approached, trying to take advantage of the apparent distraction. Catching on quickly, Dimitri squared up to her. The lancer’s brows lowered as she backed down again.

“If she bleeds out, know it will only be because you allowed her to.”

You gasped, bringing a hand toward the back of your head before the chains restricted you from doing so, “W-Wait, I’m bleeding out?”

“No, it will be because you chose to attack us. Look at yourselves; you can’t even control your prisoners.”

“We never meant-”

Your classmate cut her off, “But you did. And the only way you could make it right is to either heal her or let us go.”

“You’re not letting us heal her,” the fortress knight closest to the door barked.

“I wonder what option that leaves for you.”

Dimitri was holding himself with all the power and authority of a royal despite the circumstances. It would normally have you in awe, but you were struggling to focus on anything except the possibility that you were a sitting duck in critical condition.

The good news was that he was clearly getting under their skin. Your captors seemed to value both of your lives for some reason; not just the prince’s.

Unfortunately, yours was the life being gambled, and you were on a strict time limit. Dimitri could only call their bluff for so long before they’d have to make a decision. While the daughter of a noble was a decent bargaining chip, you weren’t quite sure how far your captors would be willing to go to keep you upright.

Maybe they’d wait for you to pass out, forcing Dimitri into a final decision.

Perhaps your fate would be decided only after you fell unconscious.

But for now, you said nothing. If you let these…rogues…in on how much you wanted help, they would certainly use your words against Dimitri. Then what would you have to keep yourself safe? No doubt they’d separate you.

“Step. Aside.”

“Then what? You two can’t escape while she’s chained to the floor.”

“That never stopped me.”

Indeed, the cuffs of a different set of chains were still bound to Dimitri’s wrists. He must have broken his own at some point before you woke up.

The fortress knight stepped forward this time, holding out his lance as the witch next to him primed her magic. Fire, from the looks of it.

“Pathetic. Do you really think you can stop me?”

You had never seen this side of Dimitri before. He was acting a bit more…well, scary wasn’t the proper word. Authoritarian wasn’t either. In all honesty, you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it.

Not that it mattered. At the end of the day, he was getting you out of here.

Suddenly the world spun. You were caught by surprise, but you couldn’t steady your head with your hands. The most you could make of the skirmish in front of you was bright colors and blurred lines. You wanted to throw up, yet you felt like there was nothing to get rid of. Plus, it would only worsen your headache.

On instinct, you tried to balance yourself; to stop yourself from falling over. Since you weren’t actually off-centered, the endeavor didn’t go so well, and you struggled to regain control of your body before you could hit the floor.

When you set your hand on the ground beside you to steady yourself, blood dripped onto it.

Was this a good time to ask for help?

…more help?

Looking up as your sight came back to you, you realized you had no idea where you were. There were bodies on the ground, drops of blood spattered around them. They matched the beads trickling down your hand.

Prince Dimitri was at your side, tearing through the chains at your wrists.

“Where are we?” you asked him, glancing back at the people motionless on the floor. “D-Did I do this?”

“What? No, you’ve been stuck here on the fl-” his voice quieted, “By the Goddess, no…”

His hand moved to your face, angling it toward him until you had nowhere else to look but into his eyes. After a moment, the action had made you somewhat dizzy.

You recoiled a bit, “Wh- You’re acting strange…”

He turned his head away, sighing lightly as he broke your other shackle off. Arms now free, you moved to stand before he stopped you.

“Your eyes…we need to get you out of here.”

“Okay, so let’s go.”

“No,” he again prevented you from getting up. “No large movements…I need to find a way to get you out of here safely.”

Glancing around the room once again, you couldn’t identify any living threats to your survival, “There must be something I’m not getting. Where are we? It doesn’t look like we’re in any direct danger; nothing is stopping us from leaving.”

He rose to his feet, watching to make sure you stayed down, “I don’t know where we are…some ruffian camp by the monastery- but I know the way back. They kept me conscious during the walk.”

“...that’s an odd way of phrasing it…”

“Yes, well. I won’t be doing much more of that. The important thing is getting you out of here as efficiently as possible. That means without you…moving…y……d…t…m…ch.”

You ducked your head as you felt it throb, staring at the floor and trying even just to breathe. In and out. You were in trouble, you knew that much, but you just couldn’t…

…if…if you could just…focus…

Vaguely, you registered hands at your arms. They shifted; one to your waist, one to your back, an arm to your head, and you suddenly couldn’t feel the ground anymore.

“...I…”

“Please, try not to move. I’m going to get you out of here.”

…out…of here…?

“Put your head down. I will keep you safe.”

That voice…it sounded so familiar…

They sounded so calm and comforting, so easy to trust, you found it hard to think of disobeying. How easy it was to rest, to ignore everything and rest your head.

But the feeling of dread wouldn’t go away.

“...I feel…bad…”

“I know,” he said. The voice was male, “Just hang on a bit longer. Does that sound manageable?”

It wasn’t. It sounded easy enough, but the darkness that engulfed you afterward said otherwise.

~~~~

“Dimitri!”

His head shot up from the side of your medical bed as he startled awake.

“What? Is something the matter?”

But once his eyes adjusted, it didn’t look like there was much on your mind except confusion; as though you had called out to him from some dream you had, or perhaps you had been reliving past events. You were just staring at the bookshelf across from you, dumbfounded.

“How…? But I thought-”

“Easy,” he lightly set his hand atop yours. “We’re safe now. This is Manuela’s study.”

“Oh…” you commented. “I only remember a few things, I think. I was hit on the head…there was blood and a prison of sorts…and then nothing.”

“We were attacked by some band of scum after we left to hunt for the monastery,” Dimitri frowned. “They tried to hold you over my head and capture us both…and I’ll admit they got away with it for longer than I’m proud of.”

You looked worried, though he assured you everything turned out fine. The two of you had returned to safety, after all, and you looked relieved to hear it.

“I managed to bring you back without running into trouble, but…”

He felt his face begin to warm, his eyes finding a spot on the far wall; anything to keep himself from making eye contact with you.

“...you said a few things on the way.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“You kept fading in and out- surely, some of it was coming out of your head. I…I don’t want it to-”

“Your Highness, what did I say?”

“Ah, erm…” the hand he was resting on yours flew to the back of his neck. His face was burning now, but he’d only be more embarrassed if he tried to hide it, “Please, don’t call me that right now…”

At least you seemed to be back in good health. Manuela had gathered quite the posse to care for you, but he had pulled rank and refused to leave until you were awake. This was his fault, at least partially, and he would see it through.

His position as the Kingdom’s heir certainly had its uses.

“...you’re scaring me. Please, just tell me what I said,” you looked down at the thin white sheet covering your legs, your body rigid and still, “I hope it wasn’t a mean thing.”

“N-No,” he rushed to assure you. Goddess, why was this so difficult to say when you were the one that said it in the first place?

He felt your eyes trying to connect with his own, “Then…what?”

“You…said you loved me.”

One of your hands flew to cover your face as it tinted scarlet, prompting his own face to turn a similar hue, he was sure.

“And I know! I knew you had suffered head trauma- I wouldn’t have even given a second thought to it…but you began saying all these other things. You called me kind and courageous, chivalrous and determined…”

With each of his words, you seemed to grow more and more…well, whatever it was your eyes were expressing through your fingers, it was making him grow nervous.

“I…If it is okay with you, that is…I would like to know if you truly thought those things about myself…?”

Please say yes. Please say yes. If only you were to say yes, maybe I-

“Of course,” you muttered, letting your hand lower as your gaze directed toward it, “How could I not? Especially after the tendrils of what little I could remember coming back to me, I…”

He said nothing, hoping you would find it in you to continue your praise of him. Perhaps it was a little underhanded, but he found he liked hearing you speak of him in such a way.

“You’re brave- you protected me when I couldn’t defend myself. I remember you were patient with me when…when my condition worsened-“

You cut yourself off after accidentally meeting his eyes, as though you had just begun to realize what it was you were saying.

Should he say something too? To make it less awkward?

“I find you attractive too.”

Wait.

“What?”

What?!

“N-No, that’s not what I meant. I, well, I do find you attractive, but I was trying to refer to your actions and your personality. Not that I…don’t find you physically attractive as well, but-“

“Just…say whatever it is you need and leave? I think I’ve had enough of everything, today.”

His heart clenched a little, at that. That wasn’t what he had meant to say at all, and now it sounded like you didn’t even want to look at him.

Why was it that he had to ruin this when it was so close to going right?

“That came out wrong,” the leader of the Blue Lions sighed, “It’s because of your determination and strength that I have come to understand the only limitations of life are the ones I place upon myself. You are loyal, honest, and true to yourself; even if that means going against those around you.”

There. That was closer to what he truly felt. He wasn’t sure he could manage to say much more without messing everything up again, so he opted to just close his mouth and wait.

You looked brighter though; almost like Dimitri hadn’t just ruined whatever your relationship was not but two minutes ago. That was what truly mattered, he supposed. You had gone through hell today, and the least he could do was try to make the end of your day better.

“I…perhaps you had better get more rest. I will retrieve Professor Manuela for you,” he stood, turning back to you one last time, “Get well soon, and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

You responded with a simple wave.

Dimitri shut the door behind him, taking a few steps down the hall before leaning against the wall. He covered his face with one hand. His heart was racing too fast. The prince took a deep breath only to let it out a moment later.

Honestly, today had made him feel sick with the amount of emotions swirling around in his chest. There was so much fear- both of you would have been ransomed or worse if your captors had been a little smarter, and you had nearly…

The blond shook his head. He knew fear, and that was definitely part of what he felt, but for some reason it had created an amalgamation with his…well…attraction to you. The words you had exchanged mere moments ago certainly didn’t help, and he had held you so close on the way back to the monastery that it was a miracle he was still functioning.

Shifting off the wall, he rushed out of the hallway and down the stairs to find Professor Manuela. You needed help first, even if he didn’t want to wait to talk to you again.

He’d see you when you were better, and though maybe you’d forget your conversation, at least now he knew something about how you felt.

Perhaps there existed some hope for him after all.

[vesper-tinus]

I love the concept you had with Cipher. If you're still taking requests, could you do a piece with F!Cipher and König, but Cipher is instead more of a medic and infiltrator than full-on sniper (specifically because she is rather petite in comparison, like 4'10"/150cm, though her figure can be anything) maybe during a scene where she is helping tend to some nasty wounds on him. It could be SFW or NSFW, but an emphasis on the sheer physical differences (in admiration, awe, envy, or all three)? A 2 foot difference quite literally puts you on different perspectives of the world, after all, with her doing missions he could never do and vice-versa (especially since in his case, he proved them wrong, maybe a bit of a comfort piece thrown in?).

This question is all over the place and very self-indulgent. Thank you for reading if you do! Your pieces have been great reads. <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad you enjoyed Cipher's shenanigans. I'd be happy to attempt this request, and I hope I managed to cover most of the criteria you set! This is the longest piece I've written yet, and I even stopped at a part that could be easily continued. With your blessing, of course 😉

𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐧. König x Female ! Reader

Summary: After a harrowing rescue, you oversee the final touches of König's injury. Though minds tend to wander when in confined spaces with someone you're... close with. Keywords: Crushing? Medical injury, mention of blood and death, mentions of NSFW content but nothing actual, Reader's callsign is "Cipher". Wordcount: 1705.

You found him surrounded by bodies. 

Guns and knives scattered amidst a sea of red. Sharp metal and an uncomfortable warmth seeping through your nose. Wet. He was leaning against a bullet-holed wall, blood smearing down behind him like a streak of paint. It didn’t take you long to clock the injury. 

Profuse bleeding from the left arm—possibly a haemorrhage. No, you were certain.

König’s hand did little to stop the constant flow of blood, but you commend him for applying pressure despite the pain he must’ve been in. You rushed to him, tactical med kit already half-off your slim shoulders. You unbuckled the knife fastened to your belt, cutting through the fabric to bare his arm. There was so much blood, and it seeped over his gloved hand—over yours.  

Hands stained with blood. 

You wasted no time applying a tourniquet, wiping most of the blood away to check its effectiveness. Blood sweep, no other life-threatening injuries—which was impressive considering the amount of bodies. You searched through your bag for another moment, eventually producing a few cleaning cloths, and König tensed as you carefully wiped away the excess blood still trickling down his arm. 

“Eyes on me, König. Stay with me.” Your voice was controlled, steady, loud enough to command attention. He needed to stay awake.

“I—I tried applying direct pressure with my hand,” he hissed through gritted teeth, a string of German curses following suit. “Bastards got a lucky hit, but I got the last laugh.” And the way he said that last sentence almost sent a shiver down your spine; he sounded almost maniacal—chuckling as if he was not drowning in a sea of bodies and blood. As if you were not drowning with him.

He took a hold of your wrist. You readjusted it so he was holding your hand instead. Bloodied hand to bloodied hand. 

Your free hand reached for your radio. “Need assistance for a casualty evac. Lower floor.” With critical eyes you oversaw König’s condition. You watched the tourniquet, praying that the bleeding didn’t pick up again. “König’s injured—haemorrhage,” you explained. “Unsteady on his feet. I can’t support him by myself.” You didn’t have to see it to know it. He lost a lot of blood, was exhausted, and you have had your suspicions that he was dehydrated—something you have lectured him about before. 

The comms sparks to life, and König’s unfocused eyes found yours. He squeezed your hand. 

“Rog, Cipher. We’re about 3 Mikes from your position.”

Comms went silent after that. You were left waiting… But you got out. Barely. He held your hand the entire way to safety, much to your teammates amusement—and your embarrassment. 

Now he’s sitting in your makeshift clinic—really just a room with slightly better lighting than the other rundown rooms—but it’s private, at least. 

He doesn’t know what kind of saint you are, having shed only the layers of clothing covering his torso—shirt and jacket—allowing him to remain anonymous beneath his hood. Not many would. Their curiosity too strong, and their trust in him less so. But you? You know him, you respect him, and for those reasons alone, he is already prepared to give you the world. 

“I apologise for making you, ah, come get me. I know you are best suited for stealth ops.” 

“Infiltration, yes.” You brush some strands of your hair behind your ear. You wonder how to phrase the next part of your sentence. The two of you are… closer… than your other teammates. Teetering on the edge of something. Something neither of you are certain how to explore. So you dance around it with fleeting touches and words that mean more than they should. “I will always answer when you call for me.” Always.

You clear your throat. Smooth. “Besides, it always feels good when I can stretch my wings a bit. I’m usually the one crawling through vents.” And you suppress an eyeroll. No one doubted that you were invaluable. Infiltration with a medical background, and a physique that allows you to remain (mostly) undetected? A recon team’s dream… and yet.  

You are familiar with the stares, the “subtle” glances, and you know how to deal with them. Any doubts anyone has had towards you, you’ve proven wrong tenfolds, and God knows you continue to do it. Over and over again. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my work. It's just… I don’t know, it feels very limiting, sometimes.” You inspect the roll of gauze in your hands. 

“I understand,” comes the response. “I wanted to join Kommando Spezialkräfte as a recon sniper, but was deemed”—he leans back in the chair, legs spread in a deceptively casual manner—“too tall,” he says with a slight scoff. 

“Too short,” you respond sympathetically, and he scoffs again. You smile with amusement as you turn towards him, only to find him watching you interest. The intensity of his eyes makes heat pool in your stomach, and the fact that all that intensity is focused solely on you? Well, that only causes the heat to spread. “I… doubt you want to hear all about that, though.” You swallow a breath, plastering on a smile. 

“Vögelchen,” he calls to you by nickname, one he feels so clever for. Little bird—birdie—because he could hold you in his palm. And oh he would hold you so well, hold you like you deserve. “I do,” he says, the gentleness of his voice such a sharp and surprising contrast to the one you heard earlier in the field. “I want to hear all about you.”

What are you supposed to say to that?

You promptly reach for his arm, too flustered to come up with any clever responses. 

Your hands are lithe and König finds your skin soft to the touch. Despite the injury, he feels you. He notes the controlled strength of your fingers as they meticulously work his wound. Your touch is painfully tender and deliberate, lifting and rotating his arm gingerly as you go, your fingers ghosting over his skin.

He swallows a breath. Scheiße.

König’s leg is bouncing. Up and down, up and down. Impatience? Nervosity, perhaps. You genuinely cannot tell, and you’ve been trained to look for these things. His hands are firmly clasped together between his long legs; knuckles almost whitening. 

You cannot see it, but his brow is slick with sweat. His leg is still bouncing. 

“I, uh,” you fumble your words, your thoughts scrambling as you’re reminded of how big he is. How small your hands are in comparison to his, his arms, his everything. Even sitting down his presence is towering. “I’ve seen you use a sniper rifle before. It’s an impressive sight. I think you could be good at it, if they just gave you the chance.” You’re not even certain you’re saying words anymore, but they just keep spilling out. Compliments, encouragement. 

Your voice is comforting—music to his ears—as he listens to you talk. As you carry the conversation, König’s mind can’t help but wonder, just for a moment, all the ways he could draw some truly indecent noises from your plush lips. How soft they must feel.

“König?”

Gott, the way you’d say his name. Writhing beneath him—the pain he’s feeling in his arm is bearable if he imagines it being your nails digging into his skin. Your teeth biting him in an attempt to stay quiet as he relentlessly— 

“König!”

The man startles out of his reveries, almost in disbelief that his mind would wander that far. “Sorry, Cipher”—he clears his throat, almost stammering at the misstep—”I must’ve dozed off.”

“With your eyes open?” you ask worriedly, brows pinching together.

“You make it comfortable.” 

His eyes squint, the only way you can tell if he’s smiling or not. How beautifully his eyes crinkle. Does he know how beautiful it is? How genuine he sounded? How such tenderness makes your heart melt, and your knees weak?

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear again, fighting back a smile and losing. Even in the low light, one can see the fluster that dusts your cheeks. You stare at him for a moment before ducking your head and settling your eyes on your boots. “I’m… glad you’re comfortable around me,” you say, voice barely a whisper, but you’re still smiling when you peer up at him. “König.”

And that does it. 

Suddenly, König stands up, all sevensome feet, framed like a vision in the dodgy lights of the room. You catch yourself thinking he belongs somewhere beautiful. Somewhere with you. Not on a combat-ridden battlefield. Somewhere with bed sheets and a framed picture on the wall. The lamp outlines him warmly, a sharp contrast to the void that is his hood—his veil. You preemptively take a step back to better see him, but he stops you.

His hand comes to rest on the crook of your shoulder, thumb ghosting over the pulse of your bare throat. 

You swallow thickly. He could easily wrap his fingers around your throat, and yet, the thought does not frighten you as much as it excites you. You’ve no doubt that he could lift you off the ground in a mere second. He could have you anywhere he wants. Any way. 

“Cipher,” he says, voice thick with want and something deeper, something inviting. He leans down, blocking out the ceiling light like a solar eclipse—devourer of the sun—shadowing your features that he finds so beautiful. So delicate. 

Your eyes flutter close out of instinct. 

You almost jump at the sensation of his lips finding yours, the satisfaction of finally kissing him shocking a gasp out of you. A gasp he eagerly swallows in a long kiss, tongues wet as the pad of his thumb applies a light pleasure to your throat. The pleasure you feel from a simple kiss—one that you have longed for—is so good that you don’t know what else to do but cling to his towering frame. Your back arching as he leans over you, threatening to topple over and take you with him. 

You feel the fabric of his hood tickle the bridge of your nose.

He feels your nails digging into his bare arms.

Just like he dreamed.

[serickswrites]

Recording VII

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, restraints, rescue, hospital, interrogation

“You need to tell me exactly what happened,” Kyle said as he sat down opposite Lance back at headquarters. “Every last detail.”

“What good will that do you?” Lance had his cuffed wrists on the table. “He’s alive. The hospital saved him.”

Kyle glared at Lance. “Just because he’s alive doesn’t mean that they don’t need all the information of what happened to him.” Kyle had been convinced the moments in the car and the moments just after pulling into the hospital were going to be the last moments he saw of James. He had been convinced when James’ heart had stopped a second time that was it. That he had failed his friend and that his friend was dead. 

The relief that had flooded him, that had flooded the whole team, when a doctor had come out to tell them that James was alive, but in critical condition was a feeling he would never forget. James was alive. James was alive. 

“Dexter tortured him. What else is there to say? I kept telling you to come, it’s not my fault it took you so long to figure out where we were.”

“You could have helped us,” Kyle growled. 

Lance looked offended. “I did help you. I sent you video after video. I gave you what I could. I did what I could.”

“It wasn’t enough! You could have stopped any of it. You could have helped him!” 

Lance let out a humorless laugh. “If you think any of that is true, then you are much more stupid than I thought. James spoke so highly of his team I would have thought you could do better than this.”

With a roar, Kyle flipped the table between the two of them. “YOU DON’T GET TO SAY HIS NAME. YOU DON’T GET TO TALK ABOUT HIM. TELL ME WHAT DEXTER DID. TELL ME OR ELSE YOU WILL SUFFER WHATEVER HAPPENS TO JAMES TENFOLD.”

“Enough!” Lily shouted as she opened the door. “That is enough!”

“He,” Kyle pointed an accusatory finger at Lance, “isn’t cooperating. I would like to employ some other methods to get him to talk.”

“Don’t bother,” Max said as he poked his head in, “we’re going to the hospital right now.”

Kyle’s mouth went dry. No. “Is….Is he…..” but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words he had dreaded hearing. Couldn’t bring himself to say the words that would change the team forever. He couldn’t say it. 

“He’s awake.”

Tags: @scarletfern@whumperfultime@kim-poce@whumpwillow@damnitiscrewedupagain@extemporary-whump@st0rmm@pigeonwhumps@dontworrycomics@magziemakeswhatever @enteredin2eternity@mefattortoise @i-cant-think-of-a-new-username @paininmyheart-imalive @parad0xical2@whumpitywhumpwhump@ohwhumpydays@painsthegame@sweetwhumpandhellacomf@off-brand-likes@averydistinctivewhump@justwhumpythings@kim-poce@bookworm7543@steelandblood @wingsofadragonsstuff @basica11ywhumped@parad0xical2@mypulseisimpulsive@mefattortoise@ohwhumpydays@gala1981@whatiswhump @diamond-flavored-whump @courtneygacha @theelvishcowgirl @aarika-merrill @magziemakeswhatever @

[sirowsky]

--The Beauty of Mechanics--

This is the final of the Birthday Stories!

Description: Frankie's working away in his shop when an unexpected arrival makes him pause. Frankie Morales x Original Female Character.

Rating: Teen Warnings: Meet cute, a bit of shop-talk, fluff, Frankie's just a lovesick puppy. Mechanic!Frankie. AU. Word Count: 1500 Author’s Masterlist

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   The car sounded like it had swallowed a nightingale as it rolled up to the open garage doors of the workshop, and Frankie grabbed a towel to wipe some grime off his hands while he slowly walked out there to greet what was sure to be a new customer.    He didn’t recognize the car or the license plate, so it wasn’t one of his regulars, but he did recognize the make and model of the machine.

   A classic 1967 Mustang, one of his favorites. And this one was in mint condition, all black with silver detailing and tinted windows. An absolute masterpiece.    It looked almost alive and somewhat menacing when it was so well polished and it was clear that a lot of thought had gone into the styling, which was still true to the classic look, but utilized modern materials.

   When he got to the front left corner of it, the driver’s door opened, and his eyebrows shot up as he watched a woman step out and come towards him.    Not because he couldn’t believe, or for whatever reason felt, that women didn’t belong behind the wheel of such a car, but because this particular woman was even more gorgeous than her choice of vehicle.

   She was wearing dark brown worker boots, tight black jeans, and a black silk blouse to compliment the vehicle, but her short Pink!-style hair had a deep purple shade, fading into pale blue at the ends, a look which seriously suited her.    He also noticed that she wasn’t wearing any jewelry but had a Sinn watch around her wrist, a brand which boasts some of the toughest watches on the market, all of which gave him the feeling that this was no delicate flower of a woman.

   “Hey, sorry to drop by without an appointment,” she said while pulling off her sapphire blue Oakley sunglasses, revealing almost golden colored eyes.

   “That’s okay, I’ve got time. She sounds terrible,” Frankie replied, nodding towards the machine.

   “Yeah, I don’t know what happened, she was running fine five minutes ago.    Think you can take a look?” she asked, and he couldn’t help but smile.

   “She’s absolutely beautiful, I’d love to look at her all day. But yeah, pop the hood and I’ll see what’s going on.”

   She did as he asked, and the first thing he noticed was that this engine was custom built and by someone truly talented.    But at first glance, he couldn’t find any obvious cause for the racket, so he asked her to start it up so he could listen to the noise more clearly, and after just a few seconds he signed for her cut the engine again.

   “I’d say it’s probably coming from the exhaust. I’ll need to lift it up to know for sure.    You want me to try and fix it for you right now, or do you wanna make an appointment?”

   “If you have the time to take care of it right away, you’d be making my day,” she chimed, sounding absolutely astounded that he might actually be able to fit her in immediately.

   “Sure, I’ve only got a standard service scheduled for today and that customer is abroad, so it can wait. A beauty like this shouldn’t have to roll around sounding like a freaked-out crow,” he offered, and that made her smile, damned near taking his breath away.

   He asked her to drive it onto the ramp, letting her step out before he raised it, and she remained right next to him when he got to work. He noted that she was careful not to get in his way, though, and she didn’t attempt to criticize anything he did.    Instead, it seemed like she was just eager to learn more about the car and how to take care of it, which only made him enjoy her company all the more.

   “So, you were just out driving when it suddenly started sounding like this?” he asked, both to carry on a conversation, and to learn more about the problem.

   “Yeah, there was no indication at all that anything was out of order, it came out of nowhere,” she elaborated. “Normally, I’d have taken it to my regular mechanic, but he’s on vacation and I don’t trust his colleague with my girl. He’s way too sloppy.”

   “So, no pressure, then,” he chuckled drily.

   “Oh, I already know you’re a better mechanic than that guy, so you can relax,” she reassured him, which really did calm him.

   So many customers, and especially those with fancy cars of any kind, would get so uptight about him not putting a scratch on their expensive toys, that they’d deliberately try and put as much pressure on him as possible.    But this lovely woman was just concerned about him actually fixing the problem, and seemed to understand that adding any tension to the situation was only going to make that harder.

   “Have you done any work on it yourself?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the fact that she was rapidly becoming very attractive, in every possible way.

   “Pretty much the entire exterior,” she started, and he was mildly surprised by that. “I’ve never worked with painting cars, but I’ve been doing it as a hobby since my teens.    I’ve ordered, but sometimes also made custom detailing, like the new headlights and the grill. I love that sort of thing. Tweaking tiny details to achieve the most aesthetically pleasing look, but without taking focus away from the beauty of the entire machine.    I’ve always wished that I could somehow do that stuff for a living, but I’ve just never been able to.”

   Seriously?    With that level of talent she should’ve been working at a custom shop a long time ago.

   “Wow. It’s actually kinda hard to believe that no one’s taken an interest, because the first thing I thought when I saw this car, was that it looks fucking perfect.    You’ve got a really good eye,” he complimented, meaning every word, and she seemed truly grateful to hear it.

   “I just love to make cars look their best. Like stylists do with people, or real estate agents with houses. It makes me feel all buzzed to look at a gorgeously styled car, or motorcycle, or anything on wheels, really,” she elaborated, and for the first time since he met her, she looked a little shy, or unsure.

   As if she wasn’t used to being able to say these things without getting laughed at.

   “Well, I’m just a small business grease monkey, but I’m pretty good at what I do too, and I’m telling you, if I’d only had the means, I’d have hired you on the spot.”

   She smiled so warmly at him as she heard that, and it made something very pleasant spread through his blood.

   It turned out that the problem was just the air intake tube on the catalytic converter, so it was an easy fix, and Frankie was almost a bit annoyed at that, because it meant that he would lose her company much too soon.

   “Okay, all done,” he announced once he’d lowered the car and had her start it up again to make sure that his diagnosis had been correct.

   “Great, I’m so glad it wasn’t something serious.    How much do I owe you?” she chirped, but he just shrugged, suddenly feeling quite unhappy.

   “Nothing. It took me less than fifteen minutes and that tube costs like a dollar,” he said, showing his hands in his pockets to keep them from moving around nervously.

   He really wanted to ask her out, but he felt like there was no way in hell she’d agree to that. He wasn’t nearly cool enough to hold the interest of a woman like that.

   “Oh. Okay…” she replied, suddenly looking so misplaced in his garage, with her quiet but strong confidence and overall powerful look, against the backdrop of clutter and dirt. “Well, if you ever need a paintjob, let me know.”

   “Sure. But I’d need your number for that,” he cheekily pointed out, thinking there was no chance he’d ever get it.

   Which was why, when she stepped over to a really dusty old car-door, standing leaned against the end of his workbench, and wrote her number in the dust, he just dumbly stared at her, unable to say a single thing.

   “I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” she said with a soft curve to her lips, and then she got back into her car and left.

   He stood there, still staring after her, unable to process what had just taken place, when his cellphone started ringing.

   “Morales,” he answered without even looking at the screen to see who was calling, because he was still staring outside, listening for the sound of that gorgeous engine.

   “Hey, Frankie,” he heard Pope on the other end, and the familiar voice broke through the stunned silence in his brain.

   “Santi… you’re not gonna believe what just happened at the garage…”

THE END

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Thank you for reading and helping me celebrate! I wish you a wonderful day <3

Tagging a few people who I think might wanna read these stories: @startrekkingaroundasgard @deadhumourist @tintinn16 @suttonspuds @tanzthompson @shsoba05 @f0rever15elf @justnat15 @lowlights @dornish-queen @radiowallet @spishsstuff @harriedandharassed @i-love-movies @tiffanypooh @chaoticfestninja @insomniamamma @pedrostories

[depressedhouseplant]

Just Fucking Write - Day 87

Prompt: If Fight Club and Hunger Games had a baby

Tags: Implied violence, human trafficking (ish?)

“If you’re looking for fireworks, you’ve come to the right place,” the regal looking man opened the door for Changmin and Chanhee.

“Thank you Seonghwa,” Chanhee dipped his head slightly. Seonghwa nodded in return. Changmin didn’t know where to look. The hallway was lit by old fashioned oil lamps on the walls. The carpet felt plush under Changmin’s dress shoes.

“What the hell kind of place is this?” Changmin asked.

“You’ll see,” Chanhee swept up his skirt as they walked into a bright amphitheater. Well dressed patrons were sitting in private boxes sipping champagne and talking among themselves. Chanhee ushered Changmin into a box. Flutes of champagne were waiting for them. Chanhee passed Changmin what looked like a program.

“Pick one you like,” he said. Changmin opened up the small book. There were pictures of men, some of them barely old enough for the moniker, with information like age, weight, height, and then a dollar amount at the bottom.

“What’s this for?” Changmin asked, pointing to the dollar amount under one picture.

“That’s how much they cost,” Chanhee replied. Changmin’s mouth dropped open.

“Okay where in god’s name have you brought me?” he asked.

“You said you wanted to see a show. This is the best show in town,” Chanhee shrugged. “Hurry up and pick one so I can pay.”

“I’m not buying a human being Chanhee. And neither are you,” Changmin started to stand up and Chanhee grabbed his wrist.

“The ones not picked will be executed,” he said.

“Executed? What the hell have you been doing in your free time?” Changmin sat back down.

“They’re prisoners. They can fight their way out but only the ones who’ve been paid for are allowed to fight in the first place,” Chanhee replied.

“What if they lose the fight?” Changmin asked.

“We get our money back. If they win, we get to take the winner home,” Chanhee.

“Why would you bring a prisoner home?” Changmin was still processing the fact that his best friend went to a fight club and bet on humans.

“Where do you think I found Haknyeon,” Chanhee asked. Changmin considered Chanhee’s personal assistant. He had a razor sharp wit and a smile like he knew something you didn’t. “Their crimes vary. Haknyeon was a money launderer.”

“You let a criminal handle your personal life?” Changmin stared.

“I prefer to call it creative accounting,” Chanhee took another sip of champagne. A chime dinged and Changmin looked up. “That’s the five minute warning. Pick one or I’ll do it for you.”

“This is wrong on so many levels,” Changmin flipped through the book and stopped when he saw a picture of a dark haired boy with curly hair and plush lips.

Kim Sunwoo

Age: 25

Height: 5’11”

Weight: 140lbs

Holding price: $50,000

“Him,” Changmin handed the book back to Chanhee.

“Perfect!” he pressed a button on the table and a man in a tuxedo walked over.

“Sirs?” he asked.

“My friend would like to hold this one,” Chanhee pointed to the page Changmin had shown him.

“Excellent choice. Would you like his file?” he asked.

“Please,” Chanhee replied and handed over his black card. Changmin felt nauseous and it wasn’t from the champagne on an empty stomach. The man left with Chanhee��s card and the book.

“File?” Changmin asked.

“It has all the details of their crimes. If you change your mind after reading it then you can pick another one,” Chanhee explained.

“Oh Jesus,” Changmin muttered. The man returned with the file and handed it to Changmin. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. As he flipped through the pages, he found his criminal record.

Sunwoo had been convicted 2 years ago of aggravated assault. The victim was left in critical condition, but eventually recovered. His sentence was a minimum of 15 years.

“Wait, you said they were executed if they lost or didn’t get picked?” Changmin asked. Chanhee nodded. “But this isn’t a death penalty case. Why agree to do this in the first place?”

“High risk, high reward. Though I have to say most of them aren’t very bright. They should just serve their sentences, but I guess this seems like the better option,” Chanhee said. “So are you going to keep him?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Changmin said. Chanhee hit the call button again and finished the transaction with the staff member. Then the amphitheater went dark.

“Welcome to the Cirque de Kooshma. I am your ringmaster Zuho,” a tall dark haired man stepped into the spotlight on the center stage.

[catboymitosis]

for the daanlevi requests, could I request something post termina, in which Daan wins and somehow, a fully formed and “normal” doppelganger Levi finds him? Daan would know that it’s not truly Levi, but at that point he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t have any specifics for this outside of “go nuts do whatever you want op”. It’s cool if you’re not up for doing this though!

This was a super interesting concept I honestly struggled to stay within my word count restriction! The way I see the doppelgangers is as the most “ideal” version of them to the people in their lives outside of termina, for Levi  the people his doppelganger is the ideal version for is the eastern union military. I tried to keep on that theme while making a Levi doppelganger that’s more fully formed than just “fucked up pokemon”

In his daze Daan couldn’t tell whether he’d been woken up or snapped back to reality, the time between sitting on the train was blank, devoid of any real thought or rest. He might as well have been dead in those moments, this might well be what coming back to life felt like. 

Forced into a body so wrong it refuses to move as you ask it because it deems you not deserving of control over it. A body so weak it would rather dive head first to the floor and crack itself open than lift itself up with you in it. 

A body so hostile it aches and pains you every second you inhabit it, waiting for the day you finally admit to yourself you aren’t cut out for it.

The new voices added to the stir behind him talked of the train stopping, the absence of the distant shake and rumble of his surroundings supported this. They talked of a boy with a loaded gun in hushed tones, of the law enforcement coming to take him away.

His heavy eyelid finally gave way, he looked around for this silent gun wielding assailant. Through blurry vision he could make out a green blur holding a rifle across from him, a strangely familiar green blur with black hair.

He rubbed his eye.

This couldn’t be Levi. He had his gun, his uniform, he even had his face but this could not be Levi.

Levi was dead, he’d felt him go cold.

For a moment he let himself doubt any of it had been real, that everything in Prehevil had been nothing but a bad dream.

Recklessly he approached the Levi lookalike, much too frantic to de-escalate the situation if he were right. The boy stared forward unblinkingly, paying no mind to his approach.

“Do-” the young soldier turned to face Daan as he was addressed. Confronted with a dead man's eyes meeting his own, a blank expressionless living dead face, he faltered for a moment.

Clearing his throat he began again. “Your name. What’s your name?”

“Levi, sir” he replied clearly.

 “And do you know me Levi? What’s my name?” he asked in the practiced tone reserved for patients in critical condition.

“Yes sir, you’re Daan, sir” he replied plainly, not an ounce of confusion in his voice.

“You need to get out of here, come with me quick” he didn’t have the time to process any of this, he wouldn’t get to figure out how any of this was possible if Levi was taken into police custody. Levi stood to attention at his words “Leave that behind, we need to go.”

With no objection he dropped his rifle and followed behind Daan, some of the crowd gave them a wide berth, he grabbed Levi by the wrist and squeezed them through the ones that didn’t. This city was not one he knew, he led them through it on his best guess of where might be away from prying eyes.

Pulling Levi into a quiet alley away from the bustle, the rush of finding him alive despite everything faded, the wrongness of this entire situation settled in its place. Levi wasn’t acting like himself, he didn’t even sound like Levi used to sound running behind him.

“Your shoes…” he trailed off gazing down, in the place of old tattered up white sneakers where the same sturdy boots he recognized on the men and boys he’d treated as a medic.

“Standard military issue, sir” 

Daan grabbed Levi by the arm and turned it over, he was covered in old combat scars but not a single mark of a needle in the bend of his elbow.

“You’re not-” he stopped himself from finishing the thought out loud, a palpable tenseness formed between them the moment he started to speak it. This was the first he’d ever truly been scared of Levi, instinct screaming at him to play along rather than call it out. “hurt. You’re not hurt.”

“No sir, I’m battle ready, sir” the tension relented.

“There’s no need to call me sir. Listen you can’t just open carry a weapon in a place like this, it’s not the same as Prehevil, or the front even. The war is over” the nightmares were over. He tried to convince himself of this just as much.

“Yes Daan, I’m sorry, Daan”

“Just. Where were you even going?” he sighed.

“To my last assigned outpost” 

“... What? Why?”

“I left my post there without permission, I need to return.”

“No you’ll- Levi they’ll kill you for that you can’t go there!” 

None of this made sense, this wasn’t Levi it was something pretending to be Levi. But to what ends? To be publicly executed? To be made an example of for any would be deserters?

“They’re expecting me there, I don’t have anywhere else to go, Daan”

The words cut him right to his core, they might as well have been said in his own voice, wearing his own face. Did the ghosts in Rondon expect him, did they wait for him to join them or could he just not imagine a place he belonged to more than a joint grave?

“This isn’t real” his insides trembled as all the emotions he’d pushed down to survive boiled over and threatened to spill. “Tell me this is real Levi, make me believe this is real”

Levi pinched the back of his hand, hard. It hurt, the pain seared, he let it linger. Let out shaky breath after shaky breath till they became steady. 

He pried Levi’s fingers from him and held them, caressed his cheek with the other. It didn’t flinch nor lean into his touch. Levi was dead, Daan hadn’t saved him. The thing before him was warm, alive. He didn’t care why it was Levi anymore, he could still save it. 

“You have a place. With me, you can come with me.”

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

Those who go "Criticizing the Israeli government isn't antisemitic... but accusing it of apartheid or genocide is" do themselves no favors. Nor do they do Israel any favors in the long term.

Before I proceed, I need to make clear (both to Israelis as well as "antizionists"/tankies) when the accusation is paired with a declaration that Israel shouldn't exist, I'll agree that's when we get into antisemitism. After all, it'd be baffling to say that Serbia, China, or Sudan should cease existing for their part in genocide within the past 3 decades (not to be confused with the stance that certain parts of those nations have full grounds to break away), and only a relative fringe (your daily reminder that tumblr/twitter is not real life) will say the same about all the countries in the Americas.

Setting that aside, my issue is declaring that you can't say genocide or apartheid takes the teeth out of arguments to make them palatable for the political establishment.

Usually when I see people deny that apartheid, they bring up how Israeli Arabs have all the rights of citizenry. Except they fail to address how the accusation is leveled primarily at Israel's treatment of the West Bank (the settlements fulfill the literal translation of the "apartheid"). Or how within Israel proper, you can see a concerted campaign by the right to further marginalize Arab communities; from Netanyahu declaring Arab voters a fifth column, to the clear intent of the "nation state law", to incitement of violence from mobs and MKs.

Standing Together elaborates on the apartheid element:

Now for the genocide part, one could argue about the whether this actually meets the academic definition. However I'd still argue that by itself, accusing the Israeli government of genocide isn't inherently antisemitic even if it's frequently stated by those who are. Death toll aside, if you not only look at the progressive nature of the evacuation orders that pushes Gazans into an ever shrinking "safe zone" with no provision for return, it's not hard for it to meet at least the ethnic cleansing criteria.

Importantly, the Israeli government has done nothing to reign in extremism. By not shutting down its genocidal members (who are signaling that they want to resettle Gaza) or doing anything more than wrist-slapping mobs, it essentially approves that ideology. So while Israelis as a whole aren't genocidal, those who are are where it counts. Which then is where you have intent, regardless of Bibi's English statements to the world.

Also, no, not everyone who suffers deprivation or hardship is gonna become a genocidal terrorist. But it's well-documented that such conditions do make it easier for extremist groups to gain influence and recruit. In that regard, I argue that "Oct 7 was a natural consequence" is also a harsh but valid statement; not just due to conditions that make it easier for Hamas to get control (and gain popularity in the WB) but also because it's clear as day that the far-right coalition's push for WB occupation actually weakened Israeli security.

And comparing yourself to the conduct of Hamas or any of the Arab states to make yourself look better is an utter fallacy.

It's fair to point out the hypocrisy of those who level the accusations but don't say a peep about Russia or China (or how Arab states treat Palestinian refugees for that matter). And I think it's fair to ask anyone who comes out with such an accusation to clarify if they are just critiquing your gov/military's actions or your very existence.

But when "It's fair to criticize Israel" is repeatedly followed by "Not like That", it raises the question as to whether you really are inviting criticism of Israeli policy. Because hating Bibi is easy; harder is addressing the conditions that allowed him to come to power and the long-term ramifications.

[ziracona]

So with my second read-through of my favorite chapters I think I finally figured out that Julie was essentially just dissassociating the whole time, or did I read that wrong? Also for the legion im curious if things will go differently than ILM did, speaking of which- Would Julie and Frank have caved and joined the survivors eventually? What do you think really would have convinced them?

More or less, although not like in a way where she doesn’t know what is going on. I think she just lightly dissociates constantly. She’s got a personality disorder, but she lies if I try to figure out which one. 🤷🏻‍♀️ So. I know how she behaves but not why. She’s very aware, she just…’unplugs’ as it were, from feeling it, so it’s easier to do, and has for years. Even the fun parts. That’s why she harps so much on things Frank says being nice because he talks about her like she’s a ‘real person’ or a ‘whole person.’ She’s very self aware. She knows she is not normal. She just chooses mostly not to think about that. Girl represses everything, always. Her brain is plugged in, her feelings are off, and so is any reasoning she doesn’t want to do.

Yes. Every timeline ends differently, especially for the realm killers and the Entity. NDF, ILM, FtEoNR, and HL (even ODE) would have some very significant changes. Some things always stay, the strongest ties as it were, like Nea and Min finding each other, but the ones more up to chance remain…butterfly effected.

But on to the exciting answer! (For me). A chance to talk about the chapter that never was for ILM! The answer is yes, they would have joined not long after the events of Oak, if the Entity hadn’t pushed a confrontation with Philip. I considered letting the story run longer to include the newest two releases (Yui and ST, I believe?). If I had, there would have been a chapter called Pheidippides that I was deeply fond of, and don’t think I’ve ever gotten to talk about before. Essentially, the short summary was the Clown ended up in an area beside Legion, and lured one of them (Julie) in with audio recorded bait. She got caught and tortured, with Joey swapping with her to protect her. The Clown tried to force him to switch back, because he prefers doing what he does to girls, and Joey refused. Using drugs on them to try and force him fucked them up, and made them temporarily lose the ability to switch back and forth, trapping Joey in the body. Jeff heard things going on, and attempted to help, and ended up trapped too, then got severely injured trying to draw fire off Joey. Eventually, drugs wear off enough Frank and Susie are able to swap and she (thin wrists) tag teams to get an arm free, and he stabs the Clown through the ear with a scalpel and kills him (outside a trial).

Frank immediately flips out and calls the Entity to be like “control your fucking killers what the hell?!? Two of us are in critical condition, and this survivor is one missed ER from dead!” But the Entity’s concern is immediately recovering its favorite killer, Kenneth, who was not insured at the moment, so it ejects them from Kenneth’s realm and makes it closed off while it tries to fix it. Frank keeps shouting about it needing to fix them them, which he can’t do because they’re in one body and thus can’t treat each other, so it just rips them back into four and basically tells him to fix it himself, and vanishes to rescue the Clown.

Frank and Susie are left mostly unharmed, with a traumatized and injured Julie, and a more severely injured and traumatized Joey, and an almost dead Jeff who has been getting tortured for them for the last hour. They have no medical supplies or experience, the Entity won’t come, everyone is going completely breakdown. The survivors have meds and expertise, and since Jeff entered Kenneth’s realm, while that’s impassible, it means the survivors /must/ be one away from them, with the ST Lab and Demogorgons, in the way.

Frank realizes Jeff’s only hope of survival is getting through the lab, to the survivors, and bringing them back. It’s the only way to help Joey and Julie either, who while not actively dying, are sincerely fucked. But they despise and won’t listen to him, so he can’t be the one to do it. He might get killed on sight. They’ll think it’s a trap. They won’t beleive. Which means Susie /has/ to. She’s the only one they’ll not hurt, and might believe. She’s terrified to do it, but going to, alone, but he tells her he’s not going to make her do it alone. He’ll go to protect her, and they’ll do it together.

They leave Julie and Joey to recuperate and try to care for Jeff best and long as they can, and then, knowing death outside a game is death for them (and this is a hell of a risk—they’re tough, but in the end they’re young adults with small knives, vs well, the destructive power of a demogorgon, and ILM verse while there’s only one demogorgon per trial, there are many in the Lab, so the lab is a death zone), and their odds are bad but there is just no other way, they together make a mad dash through the lab to the other side to get help.

And yeah I loved that idea it didn’t end up working for the over-arching narrative flow but maybe someday I’ll find a way to reuse it.

They would have become solid and continuing allies after the event, given the length of the Entity fucking them over, and survivors risking themselves to help. They’re flawed people, but they love their own deeply and sincerely. (Which is the exact situation the Entity is working to avoid during the events of NDF)