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luxcuriousao3 · 22 days ago

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Fevered Mistakes

Summary: Ghost, a formidable Alpha, is captured and dosed with rut inducers. You are the omega he's tossed into a cell with. WC: 3429 Warnings: a/b/o, graphic nonconsensual sex, nonconsensual drugging, unprotected PIV sex, referenced torture/experimentation, blood, vomit, death, hurt no comfort, background ghoap, POV switches denoted by triple asterisks (***) Notes: Based off the first half of this post that I made a bit ago. Ngl, I don't really like how this one turned out, but y'all were begging for it so, so I feel bad just letting it rot in my google docs lol. There are two scrapped versions of a second chapter that would make this fic farrrrr less angsty, but idk if I'm ever gonna continue this, so I'm treating this like it's a one-shot with the warnings. If I ever do post a continuation, it will be linked on my masterlist, so you can check for it there. And hey, maybe if y'all share your thoughts about this in my inbox or whatever, it might entice the brainworms again lol. Taglist: @captainsherlockwinchester110283

There was a girl in the cell.

She was small and soft in the way that almost all omegas were, though it was her scent that really gave her status away. Sweet and alluring but soured by fear, it invaded his nostrils and made him all the more dazed. The blow to his head, the one that had landed him in this situation, would have been hard enough to kill him, had he not been an Alpha.

He’d been sloppy. Let his feelings for Johnny get in the way of procedure. But seeing his beta, laid out on the floor, bleeding from his head, still as a corpse… he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried. And at that point, he hadn’t wanted to try.

He’d gotten distracted, and he’d paid the price.

It had been three days since he'd been captured, by his best estimate. It was hard to measure, between the head injury and being kept in a room with no windows. All he had to go off of was how often someone came in to torture him for information. He never gave any up, of course. Even compromised, he never would. He'd been trained far better than that.

Still, he wasn’t in very good shape. Beaten to hell and back, his head scrambled… his feet dragged uselessly as he was pressed up against the bars, one of his captors unlocking the cuffs on his wrists while the other two kept him restrained. The fourth jammed a syringe into his neck, injecting him with some unknown substance. Ghost tried to break free, to throw a punch or a kick, anything, but his reflexes were sluggish, his thoughts painfully slow. All he succeeded in doing was annoying them, and he got an elbow to the back of his neck for the trouble.

He was no omega, couldn’t be immobilized by a simple scruffing, but fuck if that shit didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He collapsed to the concrete floor of the cell with an animalistic howl, and the sourness in the omega’s scent spiked, her heart rate speeding up. Ghost couldn’t find it in himself to care—the very last of rational thought was beginning to abandon him as the pain spread from the back of his neck throughout his entire body, growing unbearable as it reached his groin. He felt like there was fire raging just beneath his skin, and his senses sharpened as his dark gaze locked onto the wide-eyed omega curled up in the corner, neck cracking unsettlingly with the speed at which he turned. He had time for only one more thought before instincts took over, his heart dropping out his ass as dread turned the blood in his veins to ice before it began to boil all over again.

Rut inducers.

***

When you woke up, you were escorted to the cell in which you spend your heats. That confused you, since your next heat wasn’t supposed to be for another month at least.

It also terrified you.

Though you didn’t remember much of what happened during your heats, you did remember the pain. The desperate, burning need for an Alpha’s knot, and the aching, gaping emptiness when you were denied it, the only thing that could bring you any relief. This cell held nothing but bad memories, and you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

But you had no choice. For as long as you could remember, you did as you were told, the way a good omega should. In your sleep, you thought maybe you saw glimpses of a time when things were different, when there were no scientists in white coats and men and women in military uniforms controlling your life. But you knew those were just dreams. None of it was real.

You sat on the thin mattress in the cold, dank cell for hours before something finally happened that could explain why you were there. A man was brought in—massive and with a terrifying skull mask on his face—and you barely had to take a whiff of him as he was shoved into your cell with you to know that he was an Alpha. There was that familiar smell of damp, scorched earth after a lightning strike, and you knew from the intensity of it that he was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. The very air reeked of electricity and burning plastic, overwhelming any hint of his natural scent. This was an Alpha that was ready to rip, rend, tear, kill. And you were stuck alone in a cell with him.

“Не сопротивляйтесь,” one of the uniformed men told you, expression entirely unsympathetic. It was almost worse than the look of sadistic, scientific glee on the face of the white coat next to him. “Ты сделаешь только хуже.”

Don’t fight back. You’ll only make it worse.

Your eyes widened, and you barely had a chance to shake your head before the unfamiliar Alpha was on you, grabbing your ankle in a brutal grip and dragging you away from the corner you’d curled up in. You screamed in pain as you felt the bone snap like a twig under his large palm, instinctively hitting your hands against his broad chest as you tried to fight him off. If you had been in heat, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even felt the pain from him breaking you, would have spread your legs and begged him to knot you. But you weren’t, and so your survival instincts overtook those of your omega. You knew you would be punished later for disobeying, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Anything was better than being knotted by the feral Alpha on top of you. He would maul you to death while he fucked you, you just knew it.

The Alpha grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. The other ripped your shirt off, causing your back to arch and your tits to spill out of your bra. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied growl. You tried to headbutt him, and he snarled in your face, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your vision go black around the edges in less than ten seconds. By the time you caught your breath and were able to think again, his hands were busy yanking down your pants and underwear in one harsh tug. You let out a hoarse shriek of fear, flipping onto your belly to try and crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in your shattered ankle. But that was your fatal mistake. His beefy palm met the back of your neck, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly by it, his other hand coming around to roughly grope your breasts.

And you stopped.

You stopped moving, stopped screaming, you nearly stopped breathing. You were limp as a ragdoll as he scruffed you, utterly and completely paralyzed. You could do nothing but take it as he shoved your face into the dirty concrete, pried your legs apart, and forced himself inside you. You could feel the agonizing pain as his cock practically tore you in half, could feel the ice cold fear freezing every cell of your body, could feel his blunt nails digging into the ultra-sensitive skin of your nape. You could feel everything. But you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It seemed to go on forever, and yet take no time at all. One second, you were pliant and supine beneath the Alpha as he pounded into you, his weight constricting your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The next, the restrictive grip on your neck was gone, replaced by a sharp pain at the junction of it and your shoulder as his teeth sunk into your flesh. Into your mating gland. Your own screams were echoing in the tiny cell, now, no longer confined to your head.

“M’sorry, M’sorry, M’sorry,” a rough, wet voice chanted in your ear. It was the Alpha, speaking to you in English. You could understand it, even if you couldn't speak it. He was still on top of you, still inside you, his knot stretching you far beyond your limits. And yet he was… apologizing? You stopped screaming in your confusion, the terrified screeching replaced by the sound of your heaving sobs.

“M’sorry, M’so sorry, they dosed me, M’sorry,” the Alpha continued, voice slurred. You struggled to focus on his words, distracted by the liquid you could feel dripping down your thighs. It was probably blood, you realized distantly. His knot wouldn’t have let any of his seed escape. That’s what it was there for.

That, and to keep you from running.

The Alpha’s voice grew more and more gravelly as his knot began to deflate, his apologies interrupted by grunts as he began to move his hips again, thrusting in and out of you shallowly. You whined, clawing at the floor, trying to wriggle free, but he just settled nearly his entire weight on top of you.

“Don’ fight,” he growled, and you could tell from the strain in his voice that he was at least trying to resist his instincts. It didn’t make you feel any better, especially not when his fingers inched closer and closer to your nape again. “Don’t, or m’gonna have to— fuck, I don’t— fuckin’ be a good omega an’ take it— m’sorry, fuck— don’t fuckin’ fight me—”

You were still sobbing, shrieking like a dying thing with every quick, brutal snap of his hips against yours. Too out of it from being scruffed, you missed the warning in his jumbled plea threat, continuing to struggle underneath him. You felt your ribs crack as he pressed the rest of his considerable weight onto you, and the strangled, stuttering gasp that left your throat was the kind of sound that elongated in a horror film.

The Alpha seemed to think so too, as he moaned in a horrid mixture of pleasure and abject misery before he scruffed you again. You went still, once more trapped in your own body. It was the worst sensation you’d ever felt, worse than the experiments the white coats ran on you, worse than your punishments, worse than your heats spent alone. Worse than the shattered ankle or broken ribs, worse even than the feeling of him ripping you apart from the inside. You were always helpless and vulnerable, being an omega, but this… when you were scruffed, you were no longer a person. You were just an object, to be used as your Alpha saw fit.

Your Alpha.

The man on top of you—who was knotting you for the second time now—was your Alpha. He’d claimed you, the pain in your shoulder was proof of that. You would wear his mark forever, now. You would belong to him for the rest of your life.

You prayed that it was short.

Your Alpha released his painful grip on your nape again, but you didn’t try to get away this time. You were far too disoriented. Being scruffed once was bad enough, but twice in as many minutes? You could easily go into shock from that. You probably were in shock, but you didn't panic, feeling too distant and floaty. The ice in your veins was numbing you from the inside. That was nice… you leaned into it, letting your blankly staring eyes flutter shut—

“Omega!”

Your eyes snapped back open and you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself. That only caused pain to flare up all over your body, the burning between your legs as you tugged on his knot pulling another scream from you.

“Stay still,” the same harsh voice ordered, and your instincts forced you to obey. The command was a little more collected this time, a little more coherent, even if he was still groaning and slurring.

“Don' move,” your Alpha panted, each word sounding like it was dragged out of him. He started to fuck you once more. “Don’— don’ wanna scruff you ‘gain.”

You didn’t have it in you to be grateful. Didn’t have it in you to be sympathetic to his situation either, not while he was still rutting into you like an animal.

They dosed me, he’d said. You wished they’d dosed you. At least then you wouldn't feel the pain…

***

Simon had never hated being an Alpha more than in that moment.

Bollocks deep in a pretty little omega, one already stuffed full of his come and wearing his mark… he wished fervently that this was just another of his nightmares, the ones that stuck with him like a bad smell even after escaping Roba.

Between the disorientation from his forced rut and the nasty head injury, he almost let himself believe that it was. If it was a dream, he could give in, and he wouldn’t actually be hurting anyone. He could just ride it out, come in trousers wherever he was sleeping, and hopefully, it would end faster.

But her screams were far too real.

She wailed like she was being flayed alive as she struggled underneath him, and his Alpha—after being denied a partner for his ruts for over a decade—was brutal and swift in its response. Scruffing her like a scrappy mutt, growling in pleasure at the way she submitted to him—the way she was forced to submit to him.

It was nearly impossible to think around how fucked his head was—by instinct and injury both—but after he'd knotted her for the second time, he was able to act a little more like the trained soldier he was, and not like a panicked civvie.

He didn’t argue with himself any longer. He accepted the reality of the situation as it was. He was in rut. He was trapped with an omega. He had brutalized and claimed her. If he kept focusing on trying to stop himself altogether, he was going to kill her. He needed to give up on that and instead just try to minimize the damage.

Starting with stopping her from going into shock, and then stopping her from fighting back. It only made his Alpha all the more eager to dominate her—by any means necessary.

It sickened Simon that that part of him existed. Deep down, he feared that it always had. That Roba hadn’t created it, back in the desert. That he’d just unearthed it. All of Simon’s evilness, all his wicked desires…

It was why he’d never taken an omega before. Never even let himself date one, back when that was something he did.

Johnny was perfect, in that way. In many ways, really, but him being a beta—it soothed Simon’s fears. The fears that were being proved true.

He didn’t know how long passed before the rut inducers wore off. It had to have been hours. The omega—his omega—was still facedown on the ground when he pulled out of her for the last time. She was bleeding from where he’d bitten her, and where he’d bred her, his cock drenched in her blood, her own thighs stained with a mix of it and his come.

Simon threw up at the sight. He told himself it was just from the head injury.

He was naked, except for his mask, which was pushed up past his nose. He didn't remember taking off his trousers, though he recalled that his shirt had been cut to shreds the first day of his captivity by his torturer. He didn’t remember a lot of his mini-rut, as was common when it was induced. But the evidence of what he’d done was right in front of him. The omega—not mine, not my omega, not mine—was clad in nothing but the scraps of her clothes. Her side, hips, wrists, and the back of her neck were bruised. Her ankle was bent at a funny angle. A small patch of hair near her nape was missing, leaving her scalp red and raw. Simon looked at his hands, and found the strands woven between his fingers.

She didn’t move.

Simon pulled his mask into position and Ghost took over. He moved towards the girl, feeling for a pulse. She flinched violently when he touched her neck, and he felt relief—and guilt—reverberate through him. Ghost was good at ignoring his feelings, though.

“S’over,” he told her, voice gruff. “S’done now. Promise.”

The omega didn’t acknowledge his words, just kept her shoulders tucked up by her ears, guarding her neck. Ghost didn't protest, simply felt along her spine for any breaks. He didn’t find any, so he carefully rolled her over.

Her breasts were red and raw, nipples bleeding from being scraped back and forth across the floor. There was a hand shaped bruise around her throat, and petechiae in the whites of her glassy eyes. Ghost ignored his horror at the sight, and began to palpate her ribs. She inhaled sharply when he touched the eighth and ninth ones, a pitiful, pained whine escaping her.

The ribs were probably fractured, if not broken. The bruising above them was clue enough. There was another massive bruise low on her belly, and Ghost swore. Internal bleeding. He may have actually fucked this poor omega to death. There was no way she survived the night if she wasn't treated soon.

He got his pants and trousers on, hoping it would help her believe the worst was over, and then got to work doing what he could—wrapping her ribs with the dirty blanket in the corner, and holding the scraps of her shirt between her legs to try and stem the bleeding there. It wasn't enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He didn’t even know if it was really worth the discomfort it caused her—but he couldn't bring himself to just let her die. She was his omega.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.

He talked to her as she faded. Tried to keep her awake with the sound of his voice, though he knew it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. He told her stories from his childhood—the few good ones there were—told her the plot of the last film he and Johnny had watched, told her about Johnny. That was the topic he lingered on the longest. It was far easier to talk about his beta than himself. And by the time her eyes slipped closed and her shallow breathing stopped, it was Simon that was holding her, not Ghost, despite the mask on his face.

It was Simon that watched her die.

It was Simon that realized he didn't even know her name.

And it was Simon that howled with grief and rage, clutching the broken body of the omega—my omega, my omega, mine—against his chest.

Footsteps rapidly approached the cell, and Simon snarled like a rabid animal as he turned towards the bars. He barely had a second to pull his omega—dead, dead, dead, she was mine and I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her—behind him before a familiar voice rang out. The only voice that could have possibly reached him in this state, that could stop him from giving into his instincts completely and going feral.

“Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, sounding desperate and broken. He felt broken. This little omega had managed to do what Roba and a hundred others had failed at. And she hadn't even tried.

“Let us help her, Si,” Johnny coaxed, moving closer while Price and Gaz hung back. Wise, because Simon could barely keep himself from baring his teeth at his own beta. Johnny didn't back down. “Si. Let us help her.”

Simon hesitated for a long moment, fighting his overwhelming instincts, before moving away. Johnny rushed in, immediately checking the omega’s pulse and starting compressions when he couldn’t find it. Simon tried to struggle to his feet, but he nearly fell over, Gaz and Price catching him. He snarled, weakly pulling away from them, but they held fast.

“We got you, soldier,” Price’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Stand down.”

Simon slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore, all his injuries catching up to him.

“I killed her,” he whispered raggedly, eyelids falling shut. He felt Gaz shake him to try and keep him awake, but he simply didn't have the willpower, anymore. “She was mine and I killed her.”

The mantra rang in his head even as he lost consciousness, and her screams of pain and the look of fear on her face as she lay dying followed him into his dreams.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost angst #simon ghost x you #ghost angst #ghost x you #ghost x reader #alpha ghost #cod fanfic #cod fic #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic

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thorias · 3 months ago

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s2g, we're all gonna get fat as hell with how much Gail Simone is feeding us.

Holy gods, it is refreshing to finally have a writer who actually likes Romy together, doesn't write them as dysfunctional or treating each other like shit, etc. They actually get to be a happy, loving, affectionate married couple now. See how easy that is, Tom Brevoort? lol

Inject this issue into my veins, Gail. You're doing the lord's work.

#uxm spoilers #uncanny xmen #romy #rogue #anna marie lebeau #gambit #remy lebeau #rogue x gambit #lol screw you duggan and phillips #can gail simone just write them forever?

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simp2537 · 5 months ago

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Project SS

a/n: This is my first 100 series and I’ve had it in mind for a while. I haven’t read the books and there gonna be a few canon divergences. But I hope y’all enjoy.

Word Count : 1.7k

Series Trigger Warnings: Mentioned S/A on another character, depression, self-harm, anxiety, experimentation on children, abusing relationships, murder, blood, gore, unwilling amputations?

Chapter One

It was cold.

Too cold, my cell was at the furthest ends of the ark. Complete solitary confinement was where I’d been forced to stay. As I laid on the cold ground of the cell I stared up at the ceiling.

The once dull piece of shrapnel had been sharpened. I’d long since carved out the constellations onto the roof. I gently traced the small scars left in my left arm and wrist, the blade I’d made still hadn’t been taken from me.

Maybe that dickhead of a Chancellor wanted me to slit my wrist. Let Kane find me bathing in pools of my own blood, it would free him of his mistakes. As I twirls the blade in my hands it nicked at the skin of my hands.

It didn’t hurt anymore, nothing really did.

Soft vibrations echoed down my hall as I sat up. I shoved the knife into my boot and pull down my sleeve. As I rolled my shoulders back the door slammed open. The outside worlds was filled with screams of the other teen prisoners.

His footsteps entered slowly as he knelt in front of me. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the clocking of the guards guns and all the chains they brought in.

“Hey firecracker,” Kane paused as he knelt in front of me. I sighed softly as I held my arms up, ready to be covered in chains. After a few moments he grabs my arms and looks at my wrist.

I would imagine this hurt him, honestly I wasn’t sure. He was my father but I’d never felt connected to him. Maybe it was because I was raised in the lab and closed off sector. Maybe it was because Alice had sold me away. Maybe because I knew he couldn’t love me.

He pressed his forehead to my wrists, I could feel a tear of two slip from his eyes. Pity must have covered my face as the guards slowly began to covered me in chains.

After I was practically dress in silver he motioned for them to pause before placing the mask over my face. He pulled me in close, his arms around me. I froze, my muscles tensed up. He placed a kiss to my temple as he gave me a final squeeze.

“I love you.”

I was hauled to my feet before I could speak and a muzzle was placed on my mouth. I tried to pull away, fight them off but these guards held my chains firmly. They were weighting me down but I was stronger than this.

I should be able to break each and every chain but…. I’m tired. So tired. I look back at him, my eyes pleading for him to understand. He’s familiar to me at least, I know when he’s mad or happy. I know his ticks and quirks by heart.

“I love you too dad.”

I’m pulled further and further away from him. I’m pained into a shuttle with all the other 100, their eyes all fall upon me as I’m chains to my seat. I internally grown as they pull the needle filled with a sleep drug.

I glare up at the guard about to inject me. Does he even know where my vein in, his hands are quivering. I rolled my eyes as the shuttle moves slightly and the guard practically runs away.

I huff softly as I lean back against the seat. I can hear everyone else being to whisper. My god I’m tired of this shit.

“Isn’t that the girl who killed twenty guards by herself?”

“I heard she has a metal leg.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as they carried in the very much unconscious Clarke. I chuckled softly as Wells turned to his ex best friend.

As the shuttle began to drop down shaking Clarke awoke and began to yell at Wells. I quickly began to rip her chains off. Each hitting the ground with a thud.

As the Chancellor’s video came on I ignored it happily. His words meant nothing to me now. He’d failed in every way to me, he was no Chancellor. He was a coward.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Clarke’z confused voice cause the e/c eyes girl to pause. Slowly I moved her gaze to the blonde.

“Who else would they cover in chains?” Clarke didn’t answer as with shoulder length broth hair began to float around.

“Stay in your seats!” Clarke yelled as the shuttle when further down. I had finally ripped all the chains off her body. I looked at Clarke and she was motioning towards the floating boy in front of her.

I shock my head content to remain in the safety of my own chair. She glared at me giving me a look I knew nothing good would come of.

With a puff of air I undid the buckle and pulled the glove off my right hand. My arm shot up grasping the back of him. The metal of my arm shined softly in the dimly lit shuttle.

“She said stay in your seats.” I growled softly as I pulled him down. The shuttle jerked up and grasped into a bar as we began to fall.

I held tightly onto him as I heard Clarke yell, “Finn! Y/n are you okay!”

I groaned as we began to fall helplessly towards the ground. As everyone begins to yell and scream I just focus on holding onto this stupid boy.

The shuttle jerks again and I’m thrown into a wall hitting a few pipes. My vision becomes hazy as I feel blood drip down the side of my face. The corners of my eyes slowly fade into black as my vision is completely blurred.

……….

I feel a pair of small hands shaking my body roughly. I shot up pushing the person away as my vision returns.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” I looked at Clarke her eyes full of relief. She ran to me, bombarding me in a tight hug.

“I was worried.” I let her pull away my arms still at my sides. I hummed softly as I pulled myself away from her. The commotion bellow is caught her attention as she pulled me down. As she climbed down as just jumped.

I parted the crowds for her as she walked behind me. I helped push her forward with my metal arm. The others around me pull away in fear.

They thought a metal leg was cool why isn’t my arm cool.

“The air could be toxic!” Clarke urged.

“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” The older boy at the front voiced. I stared at him tilting my head slightly. He stared back at me then lowered his gaze to my arm.

“Bellamy?” The crowds parted as a brunette girl climbed down and looked at him.

He turned his gaze to her his eyes becoming full of emotions. He stared down at her smiling softly.

“My god, look how big you are.” The girl engulfed him into a hug as she breathed in deeply. I sighed softly and moved over to the panel. It was jammed and wouldn’t open the doors anymore.

“What the hell are you wearing, a guards uniform?”

“I borrowed it to get in the drop ship. Someone’s got to keep an eyes on you.” He answered.

“Where’s your wrist band?” I heard Clarke ask as I began to try and fix the stupid panel.

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.” I froze at this and turned to the pair.

“No one had a brother.”

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor.”

Octavia jerked forward going to attack whoever had spoken. Bellamy quickly gasped into her holding tightly to her.

“Octavia, Octavia no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by.” He tried to calm her. The fire was not lost in her eyes as she pulled herself from his grip.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.” He answered with a smile. I watched Octavia’s face brighten at the notion. I watched as Clarke’s eyes fell as he moved over to me.

“It won’t open.” His eyes darted to me.

“What do you mean it won’t open?”

“The panels fucked.” He moved me out of the way to try the panel himself.

“You’d need a shit ton of force to open those doors up.” I pause for a moment. “Lucky for you, I hate confined spaces.”

He stared at me, his dark eyes holding mine. I glared up at him as his lips curled into a smirk. I moved away from him approaching the door. I rolled my shoulder, my arm flexing against each metal part.

I slammed my fist forwards, the cool metal of my hand hitting the hot door. It flung towards the ground as people backed away gasping.

Light hit our faces as a breeze pushed against us. I averted my eyes, the light all too bright. I moved out of Octavia’s way with a nod.

“All yours sunshine.” I mumble as she stared at me. I watched as her brother’s eyes trailed me and try then her. She took in a long breath before exhaling deeply. Her feet slowly moved forward against the metal door on the ground.

After a moment she jumped down, her boots hitting the firm soil. She took a few more steps as I stared out at the trees. They were lush and green all over. They were nothing like I’d ever seen before.

My eyes drifted till I found Bellamy’s eyes on me. I blinked a few times unsure as to why he was staring at me. In his eyes they held a looked I’d never been given.

“WE’RE BACK BITCHES!” Octavia yelled as the others cheered. Bellamy’s eyes left me and retired to his sister as he laughed.

All around me the others pushed forwards onto the ground in front of us. I simple stared at them all as they left cheering. After a moment when all were gone I followed.

I left’s my boots hit the ground. I dug them into the soil as I bent down. My fingers traced the top of the grass around us. It pounced my fingertips gently. I let out a breathless chuckle as I grabbed a handful of dirt.

It crumbled in between the cracks of my hand. I brought it to my nose, breathing in the earth scent deeply. I let out a long breath as I stare out.

Humans were finally back home.

#bellamy blake x female reader #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 x reader #octavia blake x reader #clarke griffin x reader #oc x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake imagine #Project SS

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glitchedcosmos · 16 hours ago

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Okay it’s been a few days , here’s my Sonic 3 thoughts below ( spoilers definitely)

I’ve been so excited for this movie all year, I’ve been emotionally and mentally prepping myself for how epic it would be, and even then, I was still loosing my mind in the theater, it’s so much better than I ever thought it could be. So much I love about it . Here’s some things that knocked my socks off so hard they passed shadow on his way to the moon.

. The whole opening scene was amazing, seeing shadow immediately, seeing him frozen , but actively thinking , and remembering Maria , then he wakes up , and immediately I could tell this was gonna be amazing and hard to stomach like a brick

. Shadow waking up and immediately mewtwoing the FUCK outta the gun officers on prison Island, bro gave everyone there a refund on their life, I was sitting there like , yeah fuck the POlicE

.the brotherly bond in this film is really great, right off the bat you can tell they’re all such a close family, the race was so sibling coded , they were so cute

. When sonic and Tom find Sonic’s old cave, and they talk in front of Sonic’s painting of long claw , talking about missing her, and not changing who he is, uGH It’s the good shit, it made my heart swollen 🥺

. I also love Tom and Maddie in this movie, they’re such awesome kick ass parents, they’re trusting their kids to make right choices, celebrating the day Sonic changed their lives, and the whole time they’re on screen with their kids you can tell they are such a power family.

. Shadow crashing out in Tokyo

. Shadow throwing cars around like humans are target practice

. Team Sonic meeting shadow , and after they get beat up, Sonic ping after shadow and the whole motorcycle chase scene was like having speed injected into my veins it had me FOAMING

. Rockwell is just kinda there, being a bitch

. PIKA PIKA :3

. REVENGE GUAC 🥑

. EVERYTIME shadow was thinking of Maria and remembering her I barley breathed, all of it was so well done, I could feel my chest hurting

. SHE DREW A FACE ON HIM OVER THE FUCKING GLASS

. THEY WERE SIBLINGS

. THEY WERE LITTLE ADORABLE SHITS

. he opened up to her, him being scared of being a monster, him not knowing what he would do without her, and then he was FORCED TO KNOW BECAUSE HE LOST HER

. Everytime we see him talk about her, remember her, can’t even be in his old home without hurting so deeply it’s suffocating , it was all so well done it punched me in the face

. I can honestly say this is my favorite shadow and Maria story, yeah them cutting out her sickness was weird, but honestly these two versions of them are my favorite. Them alone, sky rocketed the movies amazing quality

. Gerald and robotnik were funny , that dance scene was fucking wild ( it should’ve been stone and robotnik ):0)

. When robotnik literally just dedicates his finally live stream to stone, and he says he was the only one who cared about him, and called him his friend THEN SACRAFICES HIMSELF THAT WAS A DIVORCE I DID NOT NEED

. Gerald getting swatted out like a fly was fitting

. SONIC CRASHING OUT AFTER SHADOW HURT TOM

. Knuckles being the bigger brother and standing down from Sonic almost fighting him over the master emerald was genuinely great, good on my little red man. I love him

. not shadow seeing something gold fly towards them then getting FUCKING LAUNCHED THROUGH THE SHIP LIKE BRO

. Sonic completely crashing out on shadow THANK GOD

. NOT SONIC LITTERALY DECKING SHADOW INTO SPACE AFTER SHADOW TALKED SHIT LIKE GET HUMBLED SIR

. Sonic manhandled him by the fur tit

. THE TALK ON THE MOON GUYS 😭

. Litteraly it was so beautiful, shadow looking up at the stars remembering Maria’s words ugh

. Sonic telling shadow about his lost loved one, how he knows how shadow feels. And you just hear them both sound so alone and tired

. Shadow asking Sonic if the pain ever goes away, Sonic saying no, MAN THAT OUCH

. HE STARED AT SHADOW FOR LIKE A MINUTE AMD WATCHED THE SUNRISE TOGETHER PLEASE THEY SHOULDVE KISSED ON DAT FUCKIN MOON

. NOT THEM HOLDING HANDS AND GOING SUPER LIKE FUCKING GODS

. LIVE AND LEARN MOTHERFUCKERS

. THE WHOLE BATTLE SCENE WITH THEM FIGHTING ROBOTS , SHADOW FLIRTING , SONIC ALSO BEING A FLIRTY BITCH, THEM WORKING SO GOOD OFF EACHOTHER, THEY KICKED SO MUCH ASS GUYS

. My jaw actually started to hurt it was dropped for five minutes straight

. Shadow sacrificing himself like a star going super nova

. Sonic and shadow BETTER know they’re alive in the next movie they should have a better relationship now

. The ending was pretty nice, the family hug, OZZIE being precious, the ending was really sweet

. And of course the post credit scenes

. I can’t tell you how loud me and my theater screamed when we saw metal sonic, he looks amazing, he looks so cool I was HYPED ( he was top three of my guesses for post credit reveal)

And AMY MY BEAUTIFUL BEANIE GIRL SHES HERE SHES COMING TO FLUFFER PUPPER LAND YESSSSS

- HER DESIGN ALREADY LOOKS BEAUTIFUL, HER HAMMER FUCKING SICK

. All in all, it was beyond worth the wait, this movie genuinely feels like a amazing love letter to Sonic fans, this franchise feels like that, this one easily best of the franchise, possibly one of the best Sonic medias ever, it sets up the excitement for future projects really well, it’s beautiful, emotional, heartwarming, breathtaking and thrilling, and almost everything about it was so well done it could not be done better than this. I recommend it to anyone who has a love for Sonic , sega, video games, or beautiful scenes and a really awesome experience.

I give it a 9.5/10 🌟

#sorry for the long post here’s a potato 🥔#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonic #sth #sonic movie 3 #sonic movie spoilers #sonic spoilers #spoilers #spilled thoughts #spilling thoughts #Sonic movie 3 review #sonic movie #scu #sonic movie universe #sonic the hedgehog movie #sonic the hedgehog 3

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lavafell · 3 months ago

Text

Take my hand, and believe we can be together forever more.

Holy shit, it's been actual years since I've drawn my girl! To celebrate, time for a ramble that no one will read, lol.

Aerith has been my favorite character of all time for almost 2 decades now. Her death traumatized me and despite the fact that it took me actual years to get past the Jenova LIFE fight she never left my mind.

No, seriously, I had to watch her die again every time I got a game over, aqualung is the reason Aerith's death scene is PERMANENTLY burned into my memory!!

Anyway I eventually beat the game. But even before that, I remember trying on and off for years to put my love for Aerith down on paper by drawing her. I tried SO many times to draw her, but it never felt right and I eventually gave up on it. I thought something was wrong with me, that I just wasn't good enough at art or that I just wasn't a good enough Aerith fan.

Smash cut to 2021, and I play Remake! My love for Aerith is only made more intense, and with an outlet for my special interest, FFVII becomes my entire life again. I attempted to draw her more, but again, no luck.

I now realize that my inability to draw Aerith was the result of my mental health issues working together with feelings of being undeserving or too stupid to really call myself a fan. Early this year I cut out the people in my life that made me feel that way, and sometime later I was finally able to get a PS5 and Rebirth.

My relationship with minigame hell aside, I love the characterization. I love Aerith. I've been mowing through the game and plan to Platinum it.

All this to say, I just recently got to see the No Promises to Keep scene. At first the different voice was jarring, and I stubbornly refused to give the song a chance.

But today, I decided I wanted to try drawing my girl again. So I listened to an arrangement of the song in the OG game's style, then a music box cover, and then finally I gave the actual song a chance.

I need to inject it directly into my veins.

The music, the lyrics, the way Loren Allred's voice carries the emotions directly into your heart, they all scream so so much love for Aerith and FFVII as a story. I have my gripes with the Remake project's plot/writing, but I can never deny the team's love for the story and characters.

Listening to that music and looking at both Aerith's OG and Remake designs, I finally managed to draw her in a way that felt right. I nearly cried at having that way to show my love for her.

So thank you, Loren Allred. I know you're never gonna see this, but thank you. You helped me put my love for this character out into the world, and I think this was my first step toward being able to properly make progress in my fanfic.

I love you Aerith qwq

#very scribbly but she has my heart #ffvii #final fantasy vii #ff7 #aerith gainsborough #lava doodles #my art

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 years ago

Text

ERIK STEVENS | KILLMONGER (the mcu)

—

“Just Thinking” (Erik Stevens x Fem!Reader)

| Erik’s watching you…hard (and not in the sexy way).

| SFW, fluff/angst, chronic pain, someone’s gonna start crying

| picture source: Black Panther (2018) movie

| 1k+ words

Erik is watching you.

To be fair the man nearly never didn’t have his eyes glued to you, but his gaze feels new tonight.

Erik liked to claim that he wasn’t introspective because he was sure of his every move from day one but the look he was hitting you with sure seemed introspective.

You're in your bedroom, Erik having come over after work, getting ready to go to sleep. You’re bouncing around your room getting all your medicine together in one place so you can try to rest a little easier when you get in bed.

Erik’s sitting one his side of the mattress, feet planted firmly onto your carpet as he rests his arms on his legs and tracks you with his eyes.

“Do you remember where I put the stuff for my arms?”

At your question his eyes actually briefly rise to meet yours before he nods to the bathroom.

“In that green bag under the sink,” he murmurs.

You nod and immediately start moving to get it. Your body was always hurting you, that was a factor of life you just had to learn to deal with, but your nightly routine was sacred for a reason.

The pain you felt on a “good day” didn’t compare to the liquid fire in your veins and the way you wouldn’t be able to feel your legs as you walked (if you were even able to) on a bad one. Erik knew how you got too, so whenever you did this he tended to stay out of your way.

Sometimes you felt bad about how you’d often keep him up at night because of how inescapable and overwhelming the pain could get but Erik never complained in real time.

He’d bitch and moan about being tired in the morning while pressing a kiss to your forehead and still waking up early to go for his morning run and make breakfast.

Erik liked to complain but he never complained about you.

You grab the green bag from the cabinet and a pack of alcohol wipes then come back into the room.

He still hasn’t stopped looking.

You make eye contact with him every once in a while as you start measuring things out while you wait for your cold injection to warm up enough that you can inject it into your stomach. He doesn’t not keep your gaze, he just doesn’t respond to the inquiring looks you throw at him. You leave it alone for the time being. If Erik wanted to talk to you he would in his own time, the man didn’t like to keep shit in and let it fester with you if he could help it.

It’s as you’re checking your blood pressure that he finally starts moving. He gets up and holds his hand out to you when you’re about to open the little black carrying case that has your monitor inside.

There’s a question there that you answer by placing it atop his open palm.

When he brings it closer he doesn’t let go of your hand where you’re also holding it and so you offer him your own appendage right then. You can check your pressure just fine by yourself but if he wanted to do this for you you wouldn’t deny him it. At least today.

If it was a bad day and you were in way more pain than usual you tended to get short with him and didn’t like accepting his help. That would probably always be a work in progress since you didn’t like feeling reliant on anyone.

You’re doing pretty well now though. Your pain is reduced to just pin pricks all over your skin and some stiffness in your joints, the medicine taking effect to its best.

Standing in front of you Erik unzips the bag and starts putting everything together with deft fingers. He’s got the whole process over for you in two minutes. You smile and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth with a thank you before putting the case away.

He doesn’t move back to the bed when he’s done with that but he doesn’t try to offer to give you your shot either. You had to take it every two days and never during the duration of your relationship had you once reacted positively to him (or anyone who wasn’t your doctor) wanting to do it for you. Erik always left you to it like you wanted now, no fuss.

He sighs and then he’s finally looking into your eyes. “Do you ever regret any of it?”

Cooled down medicine in your hand you only half turn to give him your attention.

“Hmm?”

He shakes his head.

“Never mind it’s nothing.”

You narrow your eyes at him but let the silence envelop you briefly in favor of readying yourself. An injection wasn’t exactly something you could afford giving partial attention to. You glance up at him, now sitting against the headboard as his eyes bore into you. Hm.

“You gonna say what’s bothering you?”

“I’m just thinking.”

You raise an eyebrow as you attach the needle to the medicine vial and pull on the plunger to extract its contents.

“Let me go buy a lottery ticket then.”

Your delivery is dry but Erik huffs out a laugh anyway. He rubs his hands down his face.

“I’m being serious though. I mean- you don’t regret me moving you around so often?”

You wipe off underneath your stomach with rubbing alcohol as you ponder what he’s not asking you.

“You mean do I regret marrying you when you're so busy and I’m so sick?”

Erik’s lips purse and he looks away from you.

Huh.

“Erik, you’re the Wakandan Ambassador now and I knew that when we got back together. You can’t be here all the time,” you shrug. “Which is fine because I was taking care of myself before you and that hasn’t changed.”

You stop talking as you administer the shot with furrowed brows; Erik doesn’t speak. You ignore both the breaking of skin and the feel of the injection with the ease of practice, pull the needle out and then wipe it clean with another alcohol wipe.

When you look up at your husband he seems to still be thinking so you hum and start cleaning up. Band Aid first, properly dispose of everything used, pack all the medicinal stuff up, and hide it back away in the cabinet. Or the fridge.

“I could help you,” Erik punches out unprompted. He seems pained, voice constricted.

“Erik,” you gasp out as you turn to him. The implications of his words don’t even fully hit you; it's the way his hands are fisted so tight they’re shaking.

“Wakanda, they have resources. They’re the most medically advanced place in the world.”

“Erik please,”

He ignores you.

“They could help you. I could-” he takes a harsh breath and looks up to you. Your stomach flips at the look in his eyes, red and brimming with unshed tears. “All it would take is a fucking week. Baby one damned week and you wouldn’t have to do none of this shit no more and you know what they’re telling me?”

He’s not yelling, though even if he was it wouldn’t really be aimed at you, but his voice carries the weight of a scream. You know it’s only not that because it’s you he’s talking to. Your heart has also dropped out of your body.

“They said no, I couldn’t bring you to Wakanda and I couldn’t bring anything from there to you. I was out voted. I am a prince and I’m still just as useless at helping you as before-”

“Erik stop.”

His blurring form in the bed tenses as he listens and you're almost panting, chest tight. He is too. You can see his chest heaving with the pressure of his words even as a tear rolls down your cheeks. You rub it away with a sigh.

“Babe,” You crawl onto the bed with a small groan that you move right past before you're over him. You plant his face with kisses.

Erik huffs out a laugh, arms circling around your middle, but it’s reluctant.

“Yeah baby?”

He pulls you into his lap and you don’t fight it, smiling and swooping down to press a kiss right in the middle of the crease between his brows. You press two more there until the area smoothes out. You were in a good mood and you did not want to be angry about everything right now.

“I don’t need you to save me.”

“But it’s-”

“Hush,” you hold your index finger up to his mouth and he dutifully quiets. He must be more fucked up about this than you thought. You take your finger away and peck him on the lips. “No buts, alright? Now I’m not saying not to hook me up if you can get access to this treatment, but right now it’s a what if and I can’t bank my life on that.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s not a what if though.”

“Except at this point it is, E, and the same way I’m not wasting my time on a miracle cure is the same way you shouldn’t be either.”

“Alright I see what you’re saying.” Erik’s nodding but you can tell by the grin on his face he’s got something else in mind. “Or I could steal that shit.”

“And commit treason?”

This time when he laughs it’s full, nearly knocks you from your highly coveted position and everything, and the conversation isn’t done but he’ll drop it for now. Hopefully not becoming a fugitive in the meantime.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I could’ve gone into more detail with this but I simply did not want to. Also this is not proofread yet.

(I don’t like writing Erik because I don’t think I capture him well at all but I’ve been sitting on a few stories with him and decided fuck it on this one cause it’s cute. I also have a pattern to my updates which means either cute/action/angst had to be next so everything worked out well enough.)

It’s black love day so happy that, I guess! This fic is too old for me to claim I wrote it for today but we can pretend.

#erik stevens #erik killmonger #black!reader #black!y/n #erik stevens x black reader #erik stevens x black!reader #killmonger x black!reader #chronically ill reader #killmonger imagine #killmonger fluff #erik stevens fluff #killmonger x reader #erik stevens x reader #killmonger #the golden jaguar

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kedsandtubesocks · 9 months ago

Note

TAYLOR!! TAYLOR

Oh my god…I think I died reading this???? Like my soul astral projected out of my body and I’m typing this to you from another realm of existence because holy shit was that SUBLIMINAL!!!! 🥹😭

Okay but first off this idea is absolutely incredible and the way you made this work so seamlessly, we love a legend and icon!

Then the work you put into unfolding the story for us - giving us so much yet not enough as both reader and the audience was phenomenal truly, like you let us explore the world without dragging it out & instead let it slowly seep out like a fog we had to sort through was just!!! GAH! And the way that all mirrors Dieter’s abilities??? And that haziness??? It’s haunting in the most profound ways

And okay…but the moth imagery and metaphor my beloved HELLO!!

You think of those electric lamps under your grandfather’s porch that drew in moths with dust brown wings. Moths that ended up dead on the wooden floor.

But he laughs. Laughs and your moth wings get caught in the light of the white gleam of his fangs.

I want to live in these lines and in that imagery and metaphor, I can’t get over it seriously. It’s beautiful and brilliant and i want to write full on close reading passages on it and how stunning it is and just gush and ramble about your talent!!!

Also this imagery here:

A warm tongue saturates the skin of your neck and you realize there are devil faces in the wood carving of the ceiling, your head tipped back and arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Oh my god what utter horror and beauty?

And the way this all reflects into Dieter himself? The demon hidden away like the demons in the ceiling and the moth that’s both horror and brilliance and the way you not only portrayed that but didn’t once stray away from Dieter’s core of being charming and smug and almost a bit…dangerous??

Yeah I really am obsessed with all of this babe I can’t even stop myself from rambling about this but I gotta cause I’m making a fool of myself LMAOOO

Thank you so much for sharing this magic with us and for all the love and care I can feel radiating off of this amazing piece!!! 🌹🥀🖤💕✨

Hey I love you and I’m having thots about vampire!Dieter and his hedonistic lifestyle and his lavish parties at his estate and how he invites you up to show you his private rooms and he-

Oh, you mean like when he asks you about your--

Pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

Warnings: flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter, unbeta-ed because i needed to write something or someone was going to die

A/N: look at what you've done @sp00kymulderr you've gone and given a perfectly good fic LORE

“Theories.”

“What?”

Dieter’s smirk pulls his mouth and his head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. He rubs his fingers together, his wrist dangling over the edge of the deep-backed leather chair. The clean lines of his Armani pants and wing-tipped shoes give him the impression of leaning forward, as if he intended to tumble right through those windows and out into the party below. The music is muted, smothered, but the lights illuminate the sky like the sun beneath the waves.

“Your theories. About all of this. About my dad, granddad. Everyone who’s ever walked in here – press or not –,” he lazily drags his gaze up from your ass to your tits for the third time that night, “– has had some wild theories that I just love to listen to. Little bedtime stories to put me to sleep. So let’s hear ‘em.”

You had doubts about this dress when you left your apartment but you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep from tugging it back down over your thighs because you know you have something every time Dieter looks at you. Maybe not for long, but you might be the first person in fifty years to walk out of here with something to say.

Your heart suddenly fluttering higher in your throat, you turn away towards the movie memorabilia lining the walls in glass shelves to give him the angle he’s been inching towards all night. Over your shoulder, you see his eyes drop – predictably. You let the line out a bit more and bend at the waist to examine the original glove from The Natural.

“I’m sure you’ve heard them all, Mr. Bravo. The mystery around your family is nearly as old as Hollywood itself so I’m sure there’s nothing I can say that you haven’t heard before. Which reminds me . . .” You straighten up and, by some miracle, he meets your eyes, gaze no longer wandering. “Why me?”

His mouth curls, but it’s the glint in his eyes that shows razor-sharp teeth.

“I’ve always admired the brevity of wit, but you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Your jacket creaks when you cross your arms, eyebrow arched. “I’ve been with The Mezzanine for five years with half-a-dozen bylines under my belt. There’s a list of more experienced reporters a mile long. Why, after ignoring every press inquiry for the past twenty years, did you ask me to interview you? Oh, and consider this my first official question.”

With an expansive inhale, Dieter draws himself to his feet. He takes a few steps towards the windows, just before the light catches the shine of his shoes.

“Give me a theory and I’ll answer your question.”

You frown at his broad shoulders. Streaks of fuschia and green and gold tangle in his curls, setting the ends on fire. You think of those electric lamps under your grandfather’s porch that drew in moths with dust brown wings. Moths that ended up dead on the wooden floor.

You find yourself inches from his left shoulder.

“That’s not how these things usually go, Mr. Bravo.”

“Humor the old hermit.” He grins and the smell of spice and smoke and lineage blooms in your nose. You school your face, swallowing down your beating heart.

“The mob. So why me?”

Dieter chuckles. “The mob?”

“Happened to Frank Sinatra, didn’t it?”

“I don’t appreciate the comparison,” Dieter sneers. “Blue Eyes was an asshole and an idiot.”

You turn towards him, your turn to grin. “Speaking from personal experience?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Unbelievable.” You roll your eyes and wander back towards the cabinet. It’s now you notice the odd placement of the couch and chairs in front of the memorabilia. As if hours were spent staring at them. “Do you have anything to drink?”

Dieter blinks at you. “Uh. No. Do you want me to call up for one?”

“No, Mr. Bravo, I want you to answer my question: why me?”

“Because you care.”

Dieter turns away from the lights, the music, the night and stares at you. The teasing sparkle, the sardonic grin – they’re gone. A different man stands before you – one with the same beautiful set of curls, with the same soft eyes. But you see something on his face you didn’t think was possible: yearning.

“Everyone who ever came here only wanted a piece of me. Of this. Of my legacy. In fifty years, no one has ever wanted to know the magic in the movies. The magic of . . .” Dieter laughs quietly, joylessly. He looks around and runs his tongue against his upper teeth. “The mob? C’mon, you can do better than the mob.”

You take a step forward. Electric lamps be damned.

“I’m doing a terrible job of interviewing you.”

“Hardly.” His lips pout before pulling back into a grin. “We’re getting to know each other.”

Another step.

“One for one?”

“Of course.”

“Then in debt to the US government for World War II propaganda. Why did your grandfather step out of the spotlight at the peak of his career?”

“Ford was as much a nazi as any of them and no Bravo would ever stoop so low, so no. And Grandpappy Bravo had health issues.”

“He was forty-five.”

“Forty-two, actually. The same age I am now.” He grins down at you and you find yourself staring up at him. Had his eyes always had that golden circle in the center?

“Give me another theory.”

“Drugs – boring but reliable. Why was your father so secretive about his role as a financial backer during the 60s movie revival?”

“He hated the attention, as much as a Bravo can. You’re getting closer.”

“It was drugs?” You tear your gaze that had somehow slipped to his lips back up to his eyes, but Dieter shakes his head.

“A drug of some kind, but not the kind you’re thinking of. A powerful drug. The most powerful.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

“Life itself.” Again, you see his teeth and without your control, your heart leaps into your throat. You narrow your eyes against the brilliant light of his mouth.

“Why do you care so much about my theories?”

“Because you’re not asking the right questions. You’re close, but not quite.”

His hand floats against your jaw, fingertips crackling in the millimeter above your skin, and that spicy scent floods your brain in a sudden avalanche that makes your knees wobble. You huff, dizzy, a fog settling across your mind, and you put a hand against his chest to keep you from stumbling. His thumb drags against your bottom lip and that bright sensation becomes a focus point by which the entire universe revolves around.

His eyes are entirely golden now.

“Ask the question you’ve been begging to, darling.”

You swallow through the haze, through the pounding of your heart, through the heaviness of your knees, and the wetness in your underwear.

“No,” you mumble, “I . . . Dieter, you’ll laugh.”

“Try me, sweetheart.” His other hand joins his first, cradling your jaw, dragging you closer. “I want to hear it.”

“I think you’re a vampire.” The words dribble off your numb lips but even through the lag, you know you’ve screwed up. Something has gummed up the crevices of your brain, but that’s not the thing to say to the highly-eccentric social recluse you’ve put your career at risk to interview.

“Dieter, I’m sorry – I-I-I didn’t mean–,”

But he laughs. Laughs and your moth wings get caught in the light of the white gleam of his fangs. His hand slips to your waist as his thumb brushes your cheek, golden eyes anything but angry.

“I knew you were clever.”

Your nails dig into his jacket where you don’t feel a heartbeat. Your knees want you to fall forward into him, but your elbows struggle as the last shreds of a survival instinct.

“Dieter–,”

“Shh, darling, you are smart. Too smart for your own good. You knew the truth the second you walked in here and you did it anyway. But that big brain won’t let you believe it until you see it, so breathe, darling. Breath and it will be over in a minute.”

He lowers his face, his cold breath against your neck cracking through the haze, icing your heart. You whimper, afraid –

Afraid he’s going to kill you.

Afraid that you’ll let him.

A warm tongue saturates the skin of your neck and you realize there are devil faces in the wood carving of the ceiling, your head tipped back and arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“No crying. I will make this very good for you.”

You blink and the ice in your heart melts out the corner of your eyes, tears running off your cheeks.

“Will I die?”

Dieter lets out a noise that’s a whine and a groan all at once. “No. We’re not nearly done having fun.”

And he bites you.

Euphoria erupts across your skin, an electric pulse waking up every sense still left in your control. You shudder, then draw him closer. He groans, not a single drop of blood escaping to the carpet or your shirt or his jacket. He eats well and clean and there’s a part of you that entertains the idea of him losing control.

But as quickly as it comes on, everything fades. Blackness comes on, thick and fast, and you hear him pull off your neck more than you feel it and his tongue is the last sensation you feel.

“No, darling, by the end of this, you’ll be begging me for more.”

His promise is the last thing you hear before the darkness closes in on you completely.

#like all of this lore and character exploration??? and how you still let us sit with the poetics of the atmosphere? I will never recover #literally I’m gonna think about this for the rest of the day I’m not joking #holy shit this…I want this injected into my veins #thank you again for sharing this with us you incredible magical writing wizard that you are Taylor #Dieter 🤎#fic recs ✏️#fic rec ✏️#Taylor’s tag 🌵✨

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