#fuck do i have to do alec's next
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omen's vtm verse.
i am taking too many creative liberties with this son of a bitch bc i want to stay true to his original lore. most of this is literally me just transferring stuff into vtm so it's all from a completely homebrew setting.
he's the result of the sabbat doing the age old 'we were so preoccupied with whether or not we could, we didn't stop to think if we should' and had a bunch of tremere & tzimisce chip in to some ritual to create dhampir. aka they used the blood of one of their own and mixed it with mortal blood to fuck around and find out. omen is the first success they had with creating something that actually lived.
he wasn't a total success though. at 'birth' he appeared to have a heartbeat and his 'father' was told to get rid of him. he was abandoned and left for dead.
in swoops his mother and his story continues pretty much the same as it does in his og lore.
he ends up meeting akali & she thinks he's the most pathetic thing she's ever seen but goes on a date with him out of pity. they end up together until she dies haha!
when he realises akali's been embraced he's like oh nice i can finally tell her what i am :) and so once she's adjusted to being kindred he finally convinces her to move in with him.
at some point he goes on a power trip and gets his dad to embrace him so he's technically ventrue after that and the dhampir part becomes irrelevant.
his coterie is made up of himself, a crime lord, a sniper and a nurse. ( his dnd party except i take everything out of context )
he's basically just some guy except also like. the sabbat want him dead bc they found out he's "alive" and now everything is going to shit for him whoopsie!
#* file : omen.#* omen : vtm.#every time i have to explain anything to do with him#i realise the only way to make sense of any of it#is to know what the fuck happened during his campaign#and even I don't fully know what was going on there#and that also the 'sabbat' are around because alejandro is a pompous idiot#fuck do i have to do alec's next#i don't wanna do that bro#one of these days i will write up#a full fucking post / carrd abt my own lore#until then u can watch me struggle
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the only unrealistic thing about the mortal instruments is how alec and magnus are the only queer people in the nyc gang
#i have nothing against canon ships but i also just realised that simon dating isabelle and maia at the same time is reminiscent#of Gregory Fucking Hirsch from hbo succession and the comfrey comtessa situation#i have many opinions about all this but i don't even know where to start#like. we didn't see internalised homophones with alec he was mostly angry at the society and his father - which. fair enough dude#but jace? would absolutely have layers upon layers of internalised homophobia and shit if he was queer#dude this guy was raised by valentine! remembet the falon incident? the haha i pretended to get murked to give my ten year old son -#who isn't actually my son because i kidnapped him by the way - trauma for days?#he made him believe that jace loved clary with 'the wrong kind of love' when he tricked him into thinking the were siblings#and their blood relation was the only reason she could ever love him the only reason she felt drawn to him but they didn't know that#so instead of strong familiar love they went for romantic love and such#on the other note - simon is a vampire and that's kinda homoerotic ngl#clary clearly had internalised misogyny going when she met izzy and one of the examples i remember is when they sat next to each other in#the first book in the diner and she was like 'ugh who would even want to smell like vanilla? like a dessert? so all the boys would want to#eat her? what a whore' and i just think this is really funny and honestly yeah i think this scene alone could be very sapphic#as in 'i hated you because i haven't realised i was attracted to you' way and yeah maybe that's toxic#but clary and isabelle definitely show some girlfriendism in the books and they would do that even more if i was in charge of writing them#hope this makes any sense whatsoever#i would write more but it's getting late i might've sprained my ankle or something because it hurts as shit and im tired#fuck autocorrect for changing homophobia to homophones this is so funny as in way to funny to me
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Orange Peel Theory’s Got Nothing on Magnus Bane
“This whole thing sounds stupid,” Alec rolls his eyes at his siblings.
“That’s the point. It’s stupid but cute,” Izzy explains.
He thinks for a moment. “And Jace passed?”
“Jace passed,” Izzy nods.
“And so did you.”
“Yes,” Izzy smiles.
He’s not surprised, both his siblings are gone for their partners.
Alec doesn’t think a stupid orange peel theory is the true test of love but alas, mundane culture rarely ever makes sense to him.
“Alright. I’ll try it,” he sighs at their childish excitement, “but if Magnus doesn’t peel it and I have to get a divorce; I’m blaming you two forever.”
Izzy and Jace chuckle at him. “Okay, bro.”
Alec forgets about the stupid thing for the next few days. They’re busy and Magnus and he barely get any time together.
Then Izzy texts him one day, “Did you try it?”
Children.
Magnus comes out of the kitchen, with coffee for the two of them in his hands. Alec lets out a hand and takes one cup.
His husband sits on one end of the couch, his legs spread on the table in front of them. Alec sidles up next to him, closing any distance.
“Hi,” Magnus exhales against his mouth.
Alec smiles before kissing him. “Hi, baby.”
They spend the day lounging on the couch, trading slow kisses and touches. It’s been a while since they have got the time.
The kids are with Izzy and Simon today.
Then Alec remembers the stupid thing and decides to try it. He excuses himself and goes to the kitchen.
Do they even have oranges? He wonders.
He glances around the kitchen and finds a bowl of fruits with a few oranges in them.
Thank fuck.
He picks one up and walks back to the living room.
Magnus has a book in his hand now and his legs are stretched out on the sofa. He picks up the man's legs and makes space for himself, putting them above his.
He plays with the orange for a few minutes before he speaks, “Baby?”
“Yes, love?” Magnus looks up.
“I don’t feel like peeling this. Could you peel this up for me?” He asks, nonchalantly.
Magnus glances at the object in his hand and gives him an easy smile. “Sure.”
He hurrays himself internally and is about to pass the orange to Magnus before his husband snaps his fingers and voila—he has a plate in his hands with oranges peeled out and separated, displayed in quite a decorative manner on the dish.
Well, shit.
Alec huffs out a breath, picks up a slice and eats it, grumpily.
Magnus puts the book aside and shifts on the couch until he’s lying with his head on Alec’s stomach. He brings his hand to Magnus’s hair and runs them through it gently.
Another half an hour passes before Magnus comments. “You didn’t eat the oranges.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Well, he has magic, so I can’t blame him,” he points out to his siblings who laugh at the incident.
“Why don’t you try again?”
Alec rolls his eyes, “I have better things to do, you know? Like running the Clave?”
“Come on, just one more time,” Jace insists.
“Fine,” he relents because even he wants to see how it goes.
It’s a few days later when the chance arises. The boys ran them ragged this morning, shouting and complaining, not liking anything Alec made for breakfast.
It was one of those mornings when nothing either of them did was getting the boys to settle down. So, they’d accepted defeat and magicked them some ice cream.
Ice cream cures everything in their house.
They’re exhausted by the time they get to have their breakfast. At this point, Alec doesn’t feel like eating much, also he’s running late.
“Darling, what would you like for breakfast?” Magnus murmurs against his neck, his body a strong line against Alec’s.
He hums before picking up an orange, “I don’t know. Just peel this for me,” and hands it over to Magnus and continues, “I need to leave. I’m not very hungry, right now.”
“Alexander,” Magnus says in an affronted tone, “You know, how I feel about skipping breakfast. Not in this house.”
His husband drags him over to the coffee table and snaps his fingers. There’s a small set-up there now. A plate of pancakes with a side of berries. Bacon and sunny side up.
“Eat,” Magnus chides before he can say anything.
He smiles, shaking his head in affection before he starts eating. Then, Magnus speaks, “Oh, wait. I forgot,” before a magically peeled orange appears in front of it.
Alec groans.
“What?” Magnus asks innocently.
“Nothing. Thank you.”
Alec tries a few variations of the thing but the result is all the same.
He can’t test the stupid theory, not that he needs to, but because it’s fun and with each failure, his desire to get it done right increases tenfold.
His siblings can’t win this.
He’s competitive, fuck him.
There was a demon attack today and Magnus and Alec, as psychotic as it sounds, decide to make a date out of it.
They help each other get prepared.
Well, mostly it was Magnus helping Alec ensure that all his eight hundred blades were in place.
“Do you think demons feel anything?” He asks his husband as they portal to the location.
The warlock thinks for a moment, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Why?”
A mischievous grin appears on his face, “Well, if they did; they wouldn’t be able to concentrate while you looked like that.”
Magnus chuckles softly. “Flirt.”
They both reach home two hours later, taking their time between bantering and flirting while the three shadowhunters along with them groan at their blatant flirtation.
Not entirely exhausted, but the right amount of tired, both of them crash on the couch as they enter the loft. They’re met with two very excited boys, who immediately sober up a little seeing their tired states.
“You okay, Daddy?” “Bapak, are you tired?”
They hug the boys close and kiss their temples, letting them know they are well.
“Hungry?” Magnus asks.
“Starving.”
Then like an idiot, he asks the boys to bring an orange.
He flutters his eyes and hands it to Magnus.
“Peel,” it’s an order this time because Raziel, Magnus will know shit is up now.
“You just said you are starved. What is an orange gonna do?” Magnus raises an eyebrow.
“Just do it,” he whines.
“And they think I’m weird,” Magnus grumbles.
“Don’t use magic. You’re exhausted,” he warns.
Before he can pass off the orange to Magnus, Max comes running to him, snatching the orange. He snaps his fingers and there’s a plate in Alec’s hand again.
“Here, Daddy. I peeled it,” Max yells excitedly.
Internally, he groans like the biggest tragedy just occurred but outside, he can’t help but chuckle in response as he kisses Max on the cheek. “Thank you, baby.”
Fucking warlocks in his house.
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The six of them are at the Tang Hotpot on a Saturday evening.
They switched Sunday brunch with Saturday hotpot for the day. Clary mentioned something about hotpot and Jace mentioned never having one and Magnus decided then and there, that it’s time to introduce the white assholes he hangs out with these days to culture.
“So, we put whatever we want to eat it inside this thing and it’ll cook?” Jace acts surprised.
Magnus rolls his eyes, knowing Jace likes to act like he doesn’t know anything about the mundane culture.
It’s always a 50-50 chance between Jace really not knowing something and him just fucking with everyone else.
“That is how cooking works,” Alec says sarcastically. “You cook what you want to eat and voila—“
“Not all of us have partners who can take us to any part of the world and have us taste world cuisine,” Jace grins.
“Clary can literally create portals,” Izzy points out.
There’s a large pot in the middle of the table, divided into two sections. One is the traditional broth while another is a spicier version of the broth with added garlic and spices.
Magnus prefers the spicier one.
Bowls of broth are placed next to the pot to be added as required. Next to them, platters of raw ingredients are present. There’s thinly sliced meat including beef, pork, lamb and chicken. Next to it is a plate filled with seafood—shrimp, and fish balls. Accompanied with it are noodles and dumplings of a variety.
And then there’s all the leafy vegetables.
The best part about a hotpot is that it is the only preparation with which the boys usually are okay eating vegetables. Most of it has to do with the fascination the cooking element of it brings but regardless, if his kids are eating vegetables, for whatever reason, Alec counts it as a win.
Magnus sits next to him, a hand dragging a random pattern on his thigh as Alec murmurs something against his ear, pulling a small grin out of the man.
“We are out in public. Stop with the obscenity,” Izzy grins.
Alec sticks out his tongue at her.
Years ago, Alec never thought it would be like this one day. He could never comprehend something like this.
An average Saturday dinner with his family and friends, as he sits next to the love of his life, his husband, Alec’s husband—like that very thought wouldn’t have made Alec throw his fists into a punching bag until they bled.
They’re waiting for the last of the preparations to arrive so they still have a few minutes. Alec looks up at Magnus and plants an unhurried kiss on his lips. When he pulls back, Magnus has the sweetest look on his face.
The food arrives so they all straighten up to get started.
Magnus picks up a few pieces of pork and dumps it in the broth.
“This one has improved,” Magnus teases as Alec pours some spicy broth into his bowl. “His white ass couldn’t deal with the spicier broth the first time we tried it.”
“Jokes on you. You married me,” Alec grins back.
“Oh wow,” Jace explains. “This is too good,” he adds before he chokes realising that he dipped his chicken too much into the chilli paste.
“Weak,” Clary chuckles.
“You try it,” Jace challenges her. Clary dips her shrimp into the chilli paste and pops it inside her mouth, all the while keeping eye contact with Jace.
She doesn’t flinch or cough at all.
“I am so attracted to you right now,” Jace comments.
Simon murmurs something against Izzy’s ear and she laughs, heartily before smacking his shoulder lightly.
This is good, he thinks.
Magnus nudges him and without even looking, Alec turns and opens his mouth as Magnus feeds him a bite of fish ball.
“Too sweet?”
He thinks for a moment before replying. “You could add some sesame oil.”
Magnus hums at that.
There are a few pieces of mushrooms in his broth which he doesn’t like at all. He picks them up and puts them on Magnus’s plate who rolls his eyes at him.
“Why do you take mushrooms if you never eat them?”
“I’m picking them out for you. The best mushrooms in the world for you,” he says in mock seriousness.
Magnus shakes his head in fond amusement before he picks up the plate of seafood and a few shrimps. He puts down his chopsticks and starts peeling the shrimp one by one.
When he is done, he transfers the plate to Alec who smiles at him. “Thanks, baby.”
It’s a fun night as they all relax after an exhausting few weeks.
“Alec, do you not know how to peel a shrimp or what?” Izzy comments.
Alec raises his head and frowns. “What?”
“Do you not know how to peel a shrimp?”
“I do.”
“Then why is Magnus doing it for you?”
Alec tilts his head to find Magnus peeling a few more shrimps and placing them on his plate.
“Umm, I like doing it for him,” Magnus adds nonchalantly.
Alec thinks for a moment. As long as he can recall, Magnus has been peeling shrimp for him.
He thinks about Izzy’s question and scoffs—of course, he knows how to peel a shrimp.
Then why doesn’t he do it himself?
“Magnus?”
“Yeah?” The warlock replies as he takes another bite of a dumpling.
“When did you start peeling the shrimps?”
Magnus raises his head at him in a quizzical manner. “Like twenty minutes ago?”
Alec huffs. “No, I meant like at all. When did you start?”
His husband frowns. “I don’t know. Maybe the first time we went out for a hotpot. You seemed confused by everything so I helped.”
The first time was almost five years ago.
“Okay,” he mumbles before he adds. He doesn’t know why but he can’t help but ask. “But why are you doing it still?”
Magnus gives him a small smile. “Because you like shrimps.”
He says it like it’s the simplest of things. And maybe it is.
He huffs out a laugh. “And you couldn’t peel those dammed oranges?”
The small smile turns into a huge grin as Magnus replies, “Well darling, you didn’t really like those oranges, now, did you?”
Alec breaks into laughter. “You knew?”
“After the first two times, yes. I had my doubts,” Magnus laughs.
“So all this while you knew?” Clary laughs. “You were just fucking with Alec.”
Magnus glances around the five of them. “I believe that I was playing all five of you and not just dear Alexander.”
“You are so annoying,” Alec comments, even though he’s laughing.
“I’m annoying?” Magnus teases. “You are the one who was testing my love through an orange.”
“And you failed,” Alec announces, feigning hurt. “My poor heart.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I stop peeling the shrimps too?” Magnus asks in amusement, and it’s entirely too enticing with a shrimp between his chopsticks.
Alec steals the chopsticks from Magnus’s hands and pops the piece inside his mouth. “Nope.”
They’re both home two hours later. Alec falls into the bed with Magnus on top of him, “Baby?”
“Yes, love?” Magnus runs his hands gently through his hair.
“You know what I realised?”
“What?”
Alec kisses Magnus’s nose before he speaks. “Some stupid peel theory has got nothing on you.”
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For Anh @carelessflower 🌻🌈
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Soldier Boy x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."
Summary: You're pissed that he put himself at risk yet again.
A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). This was too much fun to play with. Soldier Boy is something, that's for sure lol. Hope this is alright.
Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader; Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader
Warnings: mentions of violence; mentions of sex; implied sex; Soldier Boy being himself; language (I guess?)
Word Count: 1881
Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith
"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."
Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | CJ version | Rachel version | Anael version | SDV Leah version | Alec version
You stormed into the suite you and Soldier Boy shared in Vought Tower. The supe strolled in after you, a scowl on his face as he shut the door behind him.
You waved around your hand and suddenly, a glass flew out of the cabinet, landing on the counter. A bottle of the finest whiskey you owned made its way from the bar as ice cubes from the fridge settled softly into the glass. Once the whiskey was poured and the bottle was safely settled beside it, you held out your hand and the drink slowly fit itself into your palm. You took a sip, letting the liquid travel down to the pit of your stomach, and relished the fire it stoked; it was a fire that had already started during your mission.
“Got one of those for me, doll?”
You scoffed and walked away from the kitchen—away from him. “You’ve got working limbs. Use them and make it yourself.” You didn’t need to turn around to know that that response pissed him off. Well, too damn bad; you were pissed as well.
You headed into the bedroom and, heaving a deep breath, you began to take off your gear. Soldier Boy came in behind you, but you refused to turn around.
“Come on, you’re making a big deal over nothing.”
“Nothing?” You spun on your heel, glaring at him. “You could have been killed, Ben!”
He was glaring right back at you. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t. I did what I had to do to take that fascist fuck down.”
You let out a frustrated huff as you slammed your gloves down onto the dresser next to you. “You are the most stubborn, pig-headed jackass I’ve ever met! You just refuse to hear what I’m saying to you!”
Hands grabbed onto your hips and spun you around, bringing you face to face with a very turned on Ben. Of course. You knew he loved it when you would get angry since he could “fuck it right out of you,” as he’d once told you when you’d asked why he enjoyed riling you up so much. “Best fucking ride I get to take,” were his exact words. He’d given you a salacious grin and then that deep laugh when you’d smacked his bare shoulder. The action didn’t, and wouldn’t, hurt him in the slightest; in fact, he’d pulled you closer and you had taken the opportunity to run your fingers through his sweaty locks.
Ben leaned in to kiss you, thinking things were about to pop off once again (he was pretty sure he’d never seen you this pissed off before and he wanted to skip the yelling altogether, get right to the fun part), but you prevented him from doing so. The impatient frown you’d expected was in place and you cupped his cheeks to meet his eyes. He knew this was a sign that you wanted him to really listen to you.
“Ben, you can’t keep doing things like this,” you told him in a softer tone but laced with as much firmness as before. “You’re not invincible, you know that.”
His lips lifted up into a smirk. “Pretty damn close, though.”
You let out a sigh of frustration and decided you’d had enough. A bluish white haze came over your vision and you saw Ben’s eyes widen as your palms began to glow. You showed him your perspective of the day’s events: how you’d watched the missile launched by the townspeople, heading straight towards the building he was in; how you’d been unable to stop it but still slowed it down enough so that more people could get out of there; how everyone had been clear except him and the asshole dictator and their regime that he’d been ordered to kill; how you’d screamed for him to get clear because you couldn’t hold it back much longer; how you’d finally collapsed because you had no juice left, only able to helplessly watch as the weapon slammed into the building. You let him feel your heartbreak, your grief, your pain from thinking he was dead. And then you shared with him the massive relief you felt once he managed to dig his way out, dirty but unscathed nonetheless—and then your anger once he told you he’d heard you yell for him but he had to take down the dictator. He chose to stay inside, knowing he could very well die, and he was okay with that. He simply snorted at the idea that he should run for cover, for safety, and that enraged you.
You ended this viewing with memories you swore you’d never show him (but would if that’s what it took to get your point across). You both watched as you first met—your apparent disgust towards him; your perception of him changing over time; the first time you’d let him into your bed, how you two grew closer; the look on his face when you demanded exclusivity or you’d walk after you’d found him with a receptionist from the 28th floor willingly on her knees; the contentment you felt being partners with him both inside the job and out of it; your worry for him each time he separated from you on a mission; the threats you’d made to Stan Edgar if he ever tried to have another Nicaragua happen again and the hell you’d unleash if he did; the tenderness you watched him with as he slept after having more nightmares; your compassion for him the one time he’d mentioned his father to you; the enjoyment of spending time with him watching things from the past and watching him laugh or enthusiastically tell you about that time, and finally, the kicker — the love you’d started to feel for him. You moved your hands away, the glow disappearing as did your haze, and you turned away from him. You hadn’t meant to show him that last part or let him in that deeply. You had been waiting for the right time, which you were pretty sure would be never, but when your emotions ran high like they did today, it was harder to keep everything behind the wall you usually kept in place.
Instead, you quietly cleared your throat and decided to act as if he hadn’t just heard those last thoughts. “You get it now? How dangerous that was? How dangerous it is every time you do some stupid crap like that?”
He gripped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze again.
“Ben, you can’t keep—”
He cut you off by leaning in and kissing you. Instead of turning it dirty like he usually did or ramping it up, he pulled back after a minute and stared into your eyes. “I do, too, you know,” he murmured.
You were afraid to ask. Still, you had to know. “Yeah?”
He ran his thumb tenderly over your bottom lip. “Yeah.” You studied him as he studied you in return. For once, you didn’t see any hint of amusement, bullshit, or even lust. He was telling you the truth.
You lifted a hand to run your fingers through his hair, which made him shut his eyes halfway; you knew he liked it when you did that. “Then you can’t keep doing things like this.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he lowered his forehead onto yours. “I thought you were dead today,” you let out in a broken whisper. He had really scared the shit out of you… You had been beyond devastated for those few minutes.
“I’m right here in front of you, sweetheart,” he reassured you, giving you a sweet smile that you only saw when it was just the two of you.
“But what if—”
“I’ll be more careful from now on,” he promised, kissing you once more. He then grinned wolfishly. “So, do those magic hands of yours work both ways?”
You knew they did but you’d never told him that. He’d only seen you use them to insert images sometimes into your targets to paralyze them or make them vulnerable, but you’d never actually used them on him before. “They can,” you answered carefully. “But I don’t usually do that. I don’t like reading someone’s thoughts without their consent.”
“So all this time we’ve been rolling around, you’ve never once tuned in?”
“No,” you insisted, offended and moving away from him. “I can only imagine the jizz-soaked apocalyptic ride through unforgettable hell that would be. There probably isn’t enough alcohol in the world to try and wipe those memories from my mind.”
He caught your wrist and gently placed your hand against his bearded cheek. “Read mine now.”
“Ben,” you pleaded. “Please don’t make—”
“Trust me.” He leaned in closer. “Read ‘em.”
You weren’t sure you wouldn’t be retching after this. He’d literally just learned you loved him and he implied he felt the same, so if he showed you the highlights of his glory days, you swore you’d nut punch him after you got sick and then force him to relive your own highlights and how much you very much still enjoyed those from time to time. Usually, of course, when you were alone in the shower.
You took a deep breath and opened the connection. You were suddenly flooded with images of your greatest hits: him going to town on you and being merciless, making you cry out his name in passion; the furniture you’d broken during your escapades and the walls you’d cracked, even one floor you’d broken through (right into the middle of a table being used for a board meeting but that didn’t stop either of you—if anything, Ben enjoyed everyone watching him give it to you and making you almost feral in chasing your high); you taking charge and putting him on his back, your eyes having a bluish white glow as you smirked wickedly down at him before taking what was yours and truthfully had been yours since you’d said you wanted him all to yourself. You could hear your cries and moans echoing in your ears along with his grunts and yells and dirty talk you both loved. You could hear other sounds too—sounds that made your cheeks warm—and you could feel the lust and heat rising within you as that same bluish white haze settled upon your vision.
You suddenly broke the connection. His brow furrowed in confusion before you growled out, “Suit off. Now.”
His typical smirk returned as he began to undo his chest plate.
“Not fast enough.” You waved your hand and Ben’s suit undid itself at the same time yours did. The shield planted itself in the corner where it usually sat while the clothes situated themselves beside it. Both of you were stark naked but that wasn’t enough. You flicked a finger and Ben was immediately shoved back onto the bed, right where you wanted him. You clambered up on top of him and positioned yourself, his hands on your hips to help you, when you leaned down to look into his eyes.
“I hate you.”
His grin was wide, knowing you definitely didn’t mean it. “You have a weird way of showing that.”
You snorted and kissed him, taking what you now knew was undoubtedly yours.
A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊
#soldier boy x supe!reader#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy x female supe!reader#soldier boy x female reader#the boys fanfiction#soldier boy#the boys#prompt response#the boys fandom#soldier boy fanfiction#jensen ackles#jensen ackles character#soldier boy x supe!female!reader#supe!female!reader#thebiggerbear
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Starved (Alec Hardy)
Alec Hardy x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are: open and encouraged
Summary: Alec discovers you fantasise about his tongue. A lot.
CW: oral (reader receiving), no pronouns but reader does have a vagina, vaginal fingering, squirting, overstimulation
Broadchurch tag list: @clarina04 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)
___ ___ ___ ___ ___
There was just something about the way that Alec spoke that enraptured you. The accent, the way his lips moved around the words. His tongue. God, Alec’s tongue. The amount of time you had spent fantasising about having Alec’s tongue buried inside you was, well, ridiculous.
“Eh, love? You alright? Not sayin’ much.”
You’re only pulled about halfway out of the trance when you reply-
“Sorry- thinking about your tongue.” It only takes a further second for you to snap completely out of it and realise what you’ve just said. “Oh, shit.”
Your cheeks go beet red and you slap a hand over your face in mild horror. Alec’s not usually a cocky bastard, but the way a smirk twists its way across his lips just drips with sin. Your breath hitches and Alec’s fingers reach out to caress up your thigh. Unconsciously, your leg twitches into his fingers. A silent plea for more.
“What ‘bout it? Huh? Thinkin’ ‘bout my tongue?”
You bite your lip as his grin turns darker. You nod, and his fingers trail up your thigh towards your sides. He moves closer. You can see the bulge growing in his trousers. It’s all you can do not to whimper- the memories of having him buried inside you to the hilt, fucking into you- oh this had to stop. But then again, you didn’t want it to.
“Yeah,” you reply breathily. “God, I want your tongue on my clit.”
Alec chuckles at your bold statement. Now that was unexpected of you.
“Spread your fuckin’ legs then, darlin’,” he replies with a nonchalant shrug. A moment later he’s beside you and pulling your chair away from the table. You let out a sound that’s halfway between a whimper and a yelp and spread your legs for him as he kicks your feet apart softly.
Another moment and he’s between your legs, spreading your folds with his fingers and licking a flat stripe up your clit. You groan, sinking back in the chair and you feel the puff of air hit your core as he chuckles at your reaction.
“Please, Alec?”
Alec doesn’t make you beg. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucks it into his mouth and flicks the tip of his tongue back and forth over you mercilessly. His fingers reach around to grip at your ass and tug you closer to the edge of the chair. He eats you like a man starved, salivating at the taste of your pretty little cunt.
“Oh, I could eat you for days,” he groans, breaking away to catch his breath. Your hips wiggle as the stimulation stops and as recompense, he pushes two fingers inside you, eyes entranced by the view of them inside you. Your cunt clenches around them and he laughs. “You like that, eh? Bet you do. Love having your pretty pussy stuffed like this.”
Your head drops back against the chair and you spread your legs impossibly wider. Alec approves if the way he crooks his fingers just right for you is any idea.
Another moment and his fingers are pulling out and his tongue is replacing them. Alec has to press himself as close to your flesh as possible to get his tongue as far as he can into your hole. You cry out, fingers digging into his scalp and holding him there.
Alec flicks his tongue inside you and rubs the tip of his nose against your clit as he does so. You keen, thighs trembling with the effort of not closing around his head and popping his eardrums.
One of his hands snakes around your thigh so his thumb can rub at your swollen clit.
“Fuh-huh-uuck,” you moan, grinding your hips against his mouth and thumb. He feels so good, and there’s no way you’re not going to cum on his tongue in the next few seconds. “Fuck, Alec- shit- I’m- I’m close. God, please.”
Alec laughs into your cunt as best he can with his tongue buried halfway into your core and he moves his thumb faster. You twitch and shake as the stimulation brings you closer and closer before-
“Oh, God- fucking fuck- fuck, Alec!”
Your fingers yank against his hair, grinding yourself against his tongue as you ride out your high. Waves of pleasure roll over you while the continuing stimulation on your clit makes you shudder and twitch.
He pulls his face away from your sopping cunt once he’s had his fill of your pussy and you grin tiredly at the blissful, wet mess that is his face. You can see your slick on his cheeks and chin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his spare hand. The sight of him panting, eyes black with lust does things to you.
All of a sudden, his fingers are rubbing against your clit again hard and fast. You yelp, hips twisting to try and get away from the overstimulation. He tuts and refuses to relent. Your hips buck off the chair, fingers white-knuckling the edge of the table.
And you cum again. But this time, you do the unthinkable and squirt. All over him. You’re shocked through the haze of pure pleasure coursing through your system, though it doesn’t stop you from making sounds a porn star wishes they could emulate. He’s grinning like a loon, rubbing at your clit like a man possessed until you have to basically all but kick him off you.
The noise that escapes him sounds quite like disbelief, and while the main thing you can focus on is the pulsing of your overstimulated clit, you still manage a shaky “shut up.”
“Never,” is his reply.
#broadchurch s3#broadchurch s2#alec hardy x reader#alec hardy fanfic#alec hardy#broadchurch#david tennant#alec hardy fanfiction#alec hardy one shot#alec hardy imagine#alec hardy x you#alec hardy broadchurch#alec hardy fic#broadchurch fanfic#broadchurch alec hardy#broadchurch fanfiction#di alec hardy#alec hardy imagines#alec hardy drabble#alec hardy x reader insert#inside man#david tennant fanfiction#david tennant x reader#david tennant imagines#alec hardy x yn#alec hardy x gn!reader#alec hardy oneshot#bbc broadchurch#broadchurch show#broadchurch smut
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wounds [alec volturi]
description: Heya love can I request 26, 28 and 29 for Alec x Injuredfemreader?
prompts: "i'm sorry you had to see me like this" // "no one ever cared about me like you" // "do you know how to use a first aid kit"
requested by: @candypop1611
warnings: curse words
i haven't written for alec in so long, this is weird haha,, thanks for requesting!
"Ah, fuck." You hissed through your teeth, throwing your head back as you pressed your hand into your abdomen.
You had been struck hard in the stomach with one of the objects the Guard was using in training, your momentary lapse in judgement putting you too close to the action and in Demetri’s way. Hot tears pricked your eyes and you felt your breathing increase, your body trying hard to fight back the pain that was slowly growing.
As the only human the Guard looked after, you were allowed in on training sessions, but only if you stayed out of the way. Your conversation with Jane had distracted you too much.
“Are you okay?” Demetri asked you, pulling your hand away from your stomach as he approached. You heard him inhale deeply before you turned to him, his lips curled up in disappointment. “You’re bleeding pretty bad.”
“Get out of the way.” Alec was the next to you, shoving his coven mate away from you to take his place. His crimson eyes assessed the situation quickly and he turned to give Demetri a nasty look before putting his attention back on you.
“I’m fine.” You insisted, though you were feeling lightheaded from the knowledge of how severe your injury was and the sharp pain in your stomach. You were close to hyperventilating but refused to show that kind of weakness in front of them. “It was my fault, I know not to stand too close.”
Alec huffed, moving to place his hands under your body to pull you close to him. “Demetri should’ve been paying attention.”
“We both should’ve and we’ll know better for next time.” Your mate was more stubborn than you most days, which made conversations like this difficult. You felt better next to him though, but refused to look at him with tears running down your cheeks. “Now, do you know how to use a first aid kit?”
Alec stood then, holding you close in his arms as he flashed away from the training room. You huffed to yourself, knowing you’d have to go and apologize to them all for Alec’s overprotective nature. It had been a few years since you had met him and still he had not changed his ways - though, your being human didn’t help your cause. It was a wonder the kings or Alec hadn’t forced the change upon you yet.
Upon returning to your shared rooms, Alec set you on the bed and went to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom. You pulled your shirt up slightly, hissing when you saw the deep gash and the blood. Of course, being the only human around, you were prone to injuries. But this one looked particularly bad and you wondered if you should go to the hospital wing.
Your eyes were still watery and your nose was stuffy, so you kept your gaze downcast when Alex finally appeared again. He held the first aid kit, placing it next to you on the bed before opening it to reveal wound cleaning supplies and things needed for stitches. You pulled your lips in a grimace, not looking forward to the needle piercing your skin.
Alec said nothing as he poured the antiseptic over the gash, but he rubbed his finger against your hand at your soft gasp. His fingers moved with practiced ease as he cleaned up the blood and began to move the needle and thread through your skin to stitch you up.
Your tears had slowed, the initial panic from the situation wearing off and leaving you feeling tired, though your stomach did still hurt. “It hurts.”
“I’ll get you some medicine once I’m done.” Alec said gently, finishing the stitch before grabbing a big bandaid and covering the area.
You were quiet for a moment before you whispered. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”
You hated to cry in front of Alec - it made you seem weak and less than him in your opinion, since you were only human and so fragile. Alec pushed your head up with his thumb, his eyes gentle as he stared at you. “Don’t apologize for anything, love. I can’t imagine the pain you felt and you’re strong for dealing with it so bravely.”
Your lips quivered again, tears rushing to your eyes for a whole different reason. “No one ever cared for me like you.”
Your mate moved closer, wrapping his arms around you to bring you to his chest while trying to be aware of your wound. “I’ll be here forever to care for you. Human or vampire, it’s all the same to me.”
He kissed your head twice, squeezing you tighter for a moment while you twisted your hands in his shirt. You could’ve stayed with him in that moment for the rest of your forever, but your wound was aching and Alec must have known. “Now, I’ll run and grab you some pain meds and we’ll stay in for the rest of the night. Sound okay?”
You smiled into his shirt, moving back to kiss his chest once before letting him go. “Sounds perfect.”
#twilight#twilight imagine#twilight imagines#twilight x reader#twilight oneshot#volturi#alec volturi#alec volturi oneshot#alec volturi x reader#alec volturi imagine
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okay wait this isn’t a fic but i wrote this little blurb because i was thinking about this and it made me laugh.
“No! I’m telling you the door opened by itself! Think about all the people you have all chomped down on- oh my god! They’re out to get revenge and they’re targeting me!” You screeched, jumping as a bang sounded from down the corridor. Alec let out an unusually loud laugh. You however, was still very much freaking out.
“What was that? What the fuck was that?” You tried to peer down the dark hallway, your human eyes only doing so much to aid in your search as well as beginning to play tricks on you, causing you to whine. “Alec-“
The genuine fear in the noise stopped his laughter and he opened his arms for you to step into, though he couldn’t help but snort at your next words.
“I’m telling you this place is haunted..!”
“Sweetface, I can promise you it’s not. The castle is old, there are bound to be a few noises.”
“But the door-“
“My love, did you have a window open?”
“uh… I think so…?” Your face flushed a bright red. He sighed in defeat before chuckling, bringing you closer and kissing the crown of your head gently.
“What am I going to do with you?”
#okay but seriously#the castle is totally haunted#as an empath/clairvoyant/whatever you wanna call it i would hate if#alec volturi#alec volturi x reader#alec volturi blurbs
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A second chance (Emmett x reader)
Masterlist
Part 2 (Good girl, stay quiet for me)
word count: 2.7k
warnings: 18+ age gap (reader is early 20s and Emmett is late 30s), eventual smut in part 2, angst, cult like stuff, allusion/mentioning of sexual assault, death, etc.
a/n: I watched ‘A Quiet Place II’ recently and I’m feral for Emmett y’all, they knew what they were doing when they casted Cillian Murphy. John Krasinski doing God’s work.
Seeing as I feel like I have an issue of rambling to fit description in, I’m making this 2 parts instead of like a 6k one-shot - don’t hate me lol
Enjoy my loves
:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You’d come across Emmett a few weeks ago now - you think. There was no real way to tell time anymore; the clock on your watch still ticked, but you’d lost count of the days long ago now.
You were on the run when you had come across Emmett’s safe place - you had been with a group - only for about 2 weeks - before you realised you needed an out, and you needed one quick; it was a shame because they’d managed to find a fairly soundproof bunker - you thought you were safe. With that, you spent the next few nights sneaking about different storage rooms and searching duffle bags, until you had enough gear to survive and run someplace else. It had been a week in this new group when you started to hear quiet whispers between its people - you couldn’t quite make out what they had been saying, but the looks you’d receive from people were enough to tell you whatever was being whispered was about you. One night, you had needed to go to their makeshift bathroom - it was risky, but you couldn’t wait. On your way you could hear quiet murmurings amongst 2 people - it was the guy who had found you - Alec you think his name was and their leader if you’d call him that - James.
“We need to initiate her soon James, it's almost been a week - you told me to go find a girl, bring her back, and we’d initiate her.” your heart paused, and there was a dull ringing in your ears - what the fuck were they talking about?
“You better keep that mouth shut of yours, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that”, James’ voice had venom seeping through each word he enunciated - he had spoken so gently to you on your arrival, something was off, and you felt your gut twisting with anxiety.
“Sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” you could hear the tremble in Alec’s voice - he was scared, and it didn’t comfort you one bit.
“Look, we need another week, and then we will proceed with the initiation...we must follow the guidelines of the holy one Alec - she’s young and will be ready to take you when we are given guidance for you to do so. This cannot be rushed Alec boy, do you understand?” You had no clue what James was talking about, but it wasn’t hard to piece things together you were in the middle of some sort of religious cult, and you were chosen for some sick ‘initiation’ that you weren’t going to allow yourself to be apart of even if it meant you had to die.
“Yes Sir.” Alec had replied meekly.
Scuttling back to your bed, careful to make no sound as you heard the two men shuffling about, you ignored the need to empty your bladder and squeezed your eyes shut hoping no one had seen you.
Since that night you had noticed people were becoming more handsy with you, acting like they had a familial connection with you. Over the next week, you’d listen into conversations when you could, trying to figure out when the ‘initiation’ was. When you heard it was going to be at the end of the week, you had to make a guess as they had a single calendar in James’ office that you couldn’t enter. From the night you heard this, you had decided upon leaving the next coming night just to be safe - you had collected enough belongings and hid them outside in a bush one night when everyone was sleeping.
It was the night, and you were trying your best to not appear jittery, but the reality was you were scared - you knew the moment these aliens or whatever the fuck they were invaded that the most primitive sides of people were going to be revealed - it was the sad reality of human nature. Going through the day with no issue, you were eventually sat eating some soup like everyone else in silence as usual - you had tried making conversation the day you got here and was immediately reprimanded - that should’ve been your first warning sign.
With the sun set and everyone in their makeshift beds, you lay upon your own, waiting to hear the quiet snores and breaths of everyone around you. You were probably waiting for around 2 hours before you decided you were safe. Since surviving for as long as you had, you’d become an expert at sneaking around, making no noise. Walking out of the room as you had done on several nights, you came to a set of stairs in the bunker and made your way up them, making no noise. Then came the door - it had been recently sprayed to loosen the hinges for when the men would go on runs, so it was an easy process too. Pushing it open, you were met with a harsh breeze of fresh air. Closing the door behind you, you crept to a bush in the far corner by a densely populated area of trees. Leaning down, you were careful putting the backpack on your shoulders. With a success, you took a hunting rifle you had stolen from the floor, hooked it on your right shoulder and made it through the trees.
Your heart dropped instantly - you were barely 5 minutes in and you found yourself on all fours, having tripped on a wire. The bastards, they’d set them up around the bunker - you felt stupid to have not thought about this, but you needed to pick yourself up and run as a shrill sound started to ring all around you. Suddenly you heard the door of the bunker crash open and there was shouting - they knew it was you, but you didn’t care - you could only think about running, your ears were concentrating on the beating of your heart as adrenaline pumped through your body - you couldn’t hear anything around you. That was until you heard it screech - was this it for you? Pushing your legs faster you heard as guns were shot - maybe or maybe not successfully killing those things, you didn’t care to turn around and look. Continuing to run as footsteps were gaining on you, you came across a train track and followed it up, noticing several large decrepit buildings - this could be your chance to escape them, and you were taking it.
Noticing a hole in a wire fence, you pushed your way through, not caring enough about the rattling of the metal as you went through. Unknown to you, there was a trap set up, similar to the one outside the bunker, and you yet again found yourself tripping over some wire, causing a clashing of metal bottles to go off. There it was again. The fucking screeches of those creatures. Picking your tired body back up, you made a beeline to the first building you could see. Halfway there though, you heard the metal rattle of the fence, turning you made eye contact with Alec.
“y/n get back here right now damn it! You ungrateful bitch, we were going to give you a good life you know!” he was screaming over the sound of the creatures and gunshots that were much further away - you were convinced they were going to attract every single one of them things in the country to your location.
Another screech sounded to your left, causing both you and Alec to turn. Without wasting any more time, you continued to the building with Alec hot on your heels.
“y/n I’m not -” Before the man could continue with his pathetic sentence, you heard a scream come from his mouth. You couldn’t find it in you to feel guilt, you were almost happy the thing had gotten him - you felt disgusted at the fact you believed he deserved it, but that was just the way of this new world.
Getting into the building, still hearing Alec’s screams, you were praying it’d be enough for the creature to not follow you. Just as you were about to press your back against the wall, you felt a hand cover your mouth, and an arm trap you against someone’s chest. Fear shot through you again - they’d got you, they’d won in the end, of course they’d have. However, a new unfamiliar voice hit your ears as you squirmed in the foreign pair of arms, “Shush, follow me”.
Calming your movements, but still on guard, you turned to meet the eyes of this man - they looked tired, and kind almost, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to let your guard down. Watching as he quietly jogged through the building, you decided to follow him as he said to - you didn’t feel like you had much choice - it was either you follow him or you had a worse fate with the other surviving men of the cult, or the creatures.
Darting between metal barrels and concrete slabs, you came up to a drop - watching as the man jumped into the large pipe, you made no hesitation to follow suit. Landing on some broken sandbags, you weren’t given the chance to admire the room as you heard another screech emitted within the building. The man opened what looked like a vault of sorts and waited for you to jump in - it looked cramp, but again what choice did you have right now? Jumping in, the man followed and shut the door. The both of you were sat panting, heart rates accelerated at an unhealthy speed. As you watched the man open his mouth, your eyes immediately went wide - there was no way he was about to compromise the both of you after all of that.
“Don’t worry they can’t hear us down here.” his voice was muffled behind the mask he wore, but you heard.
Instead of replying, you looked straight in front of you at the wall, thinking about the last few events - still trying to catch your breath.
Hearing a beep, your head snapped up - you looked like a deer caught in headlights - every minor sound had you on edge. Watching the man stop it, he went to open the container, but not before you reached for his arm, “What the fuck are you doing?”, you shot him an incredulous look at his actions.
“We’ll be fine now, and if I keep it shut any longer we’re dead - it’s shut airtight in here.”, he continued to open the vault again as your arm came back to your side.
Your heartbeat still hadn’t calmed down, and you could feel the palpitations of it as the man exited the container. But nothing happened - he was walking about his room with ease - he looked relaxed. Taking a deep breath, you walked out too, standing still when you made contact with the concrete floor - you were safe.
“We can talk down here too, but only in whispers” You nodded in his direction, almost not catching quite what he had said.
Watching as he sat at a desk covered in drawings, you took the liberty to take the other seat further from him, but still close enough. You couldn’t bring yourself to take your eyes off him, and he must’ve known because he turned around looking you dead in the eye. Taking the mask that covered his features off, you felt yourself stop breathing - he was attractive, as attractive as a man could be considering the conditions everyone was currently in.
“So what was that out there?” he asked nonchalantly, leaning back against the desk, and spreading his legs.
“I was running.” your voice was much quieter than was necessary, almost impossible to hear, and your eyes glossed over - now that you really had the time to think things through, you realised just how dire of a situation you had been in, and how different things could’ve been.
“I see. They ain’t gonna come back here are they?” you couldn’t blame him for putting his own safety first - you were an intruder to him, and he had every right to worry.
“I don’t think so.” you inhaled deeply, musting up the courage you explain the situation, so he’d understand - you were worried he’d make you leave soon. “I think they were some sort of cult...they uh wanted me to uh go through with this initiation thing. I think they were going to do something to me...mentioned about how I was ‘young’ and uh ‘ready to take’ one of the guys.” you were playing with the slightly calloused skin on your hands, fearing his response.
“I’m Emmett.” is all he said...was that a good sign?
“Oh, uh I’m y/n.” you gave him one of those awkward smiles you’d offer to people you’d pass on the street.
You were just sat staring at each other - neither knowing quite how to interact with the other - you were 2 introverts in a room, and you weren’t going to be the first to speak up again.
After a few minutes of intensely holding each other’s gaze, you looked back down at your hands just as he spoke up again, “You been by yourself this whole time then?”, he was trying to understand how you’d gone for as long as you had out there - you didn’t look too old, so you must’ve had people before this group surely.
“uh I was with that group for about 2 weeks I think, then before them I...” your head started buzzing at the memories - what was going on? All you were envisioning was the death of your dad - neither your mum nor brother had even made it out of the house with a fighting chance. You remembered how your dad had stupidly dropped a bullet on the floor, you’d thought you were both okay - it was a silly mistake, and it wasn’t too loud. But you were wrong, so so wrong. You watched as a creature had jumped your dad and ripped him limb from limb as you stood in shock - hearing him scream out in pain between attempting to tell you to run, but all you could do was watch as the thing killed the last remaining person you knew.
Emmett furrowed his brows at your sudden silence, you look dazed. As he placed a cautious hand on your shoulder, he watched as you flinched at his touch - he felt a sudden surge of guilt, giving you a sorry look.
“uh sorry, was just thinking. I was with my dad before the group...he’s gone now.” you looked into his eyes, seeing the empathy he shared with you - he’d lost people too, you could tell. You wondered if that’s who the drawings were of.
“I...” He didn’t really have anything to say - a sorry wouldn’t fix things, wouldn’t make you feel better, so he chose to stay silent instead. He could tell you weren’t a threat to him, and against his better judgement he felt a sense of protectiveness over you now - he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.
You think you had been sat there for about 30 minutes before either one of you spoke up again. “You can take my bed by the way, I think you could do with it.” he was right - your whole body had ached, and he somehow had a fairly okay bed down here considering the conditions you were all in. As much as you wanted to be polite and refuse, you found your legs taking control, and before you knew it, you were situated on his bed as he put some materials on the floor, so it was comfortable enough to sleep on.
With you curled up, Emmett started blowing the candles out one by one before laying himself down on the floor. With silence filling the room, you whispered a quiet goodnight to him.
“Goodnight y/n.” he quietly responded back with - it felt strange speaking to someone like this - he’d been alone for a while now. The both of you rapidly fell into the open arms of sleep, feeling secure with each other’s presence - you felt like you were safe here, and you hoped you were right this time.
#emmett x reader#emmett a quiet place#a quiet place#a quiet place 2#x reader#fem reader#cillian murphy#smut#fluff#angst#emmett x reader a quiet place#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut
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𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬
pairing: dieter bravo x ghost hunter!female reader
word count: 4.9k
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲
The producers of your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, have picked your next celebrity guest.
Dieter Bravo.
You’re not looking forward to being locked in a reportedly haunted mansion with one of Hollywood’s biggest divas.
𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
the first of my october spooky specials is here! ghost image in title art is from TO LIFE, TO DEATH by Jean-Marie GITARD. if you enjoy this fic, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment and thank you for reading!
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬
explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), drug use - weed, smoking, dub con - sex following drug use, vaginal fingering, handjob, dry humping, getting locked in a haunted house together, misunderstandings. let me know if any tags are missing!
It’s not often you get called into an actual meeting with your producers. You’re on the road a lot filming for your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, so they usually spare you from attendance and send you an itemized e-mail recap.
Not today, though. Today, all five producers were CC’d on the e-mail that requested a meeting to go over your next episode, which is set to start filming in two days. You tap your fingers against the shiny wood conference table, staring out at the Los Angeles cityscape through the panoramic windows as you wait for the suits to join you.
They all arrive at once, three men filing through the doorway with veneered smiles and abnormally smooth foreheads. They shake your hand one by one before taking their seats.
It’s Alec, a paunchy man with grey hair and round glasses, that speaks first, starting with a mumble of your name followed with, “I’ll cut to the chase. We’ve got a celebrity guest for the McCallister mansion episode that you’ll need to work into your production this week.”
“This is pretty late notice,” you reply, mind already running through what you’ll need to do to adjust for the format of a guest special. “Who is it?”
The three men exchange wary glances and you sit up straighter, bracing yourself for the response.
“Dieter Bravo,” Alec finally says, smoothing his tie with his hand.
“You’re shitting me.” If there’s one person you can’t stand, it’s Dieter fucking Bravo. “Is this how I find out Ashton is filming Punk’d again?”
The joke doesn’t land. Alec clears his throat before saying, “This isn’t a joke. And it’s an excellent opportunity to—”
“To what? Pander my show to a diva who’s just going to make my job difficult?”
“He has a very strong fan base that could bring in a large number of new viewers. Your show is popular, but only to a limited demographic,” Alec says. “We’re doing this for you. Spirit Seekers has a lot of potential but if you’re going to remain at the top and have a chance for another Emmy nomination, maybe even an award, you need to be willing to work with the guests that will bring in views.”
You sigh heavily. “I hate that you’re right.”
“I know. But I always am.” He slides a folder across the table to you. “Here are his requirements.”
“Requirements? He does know this isn’t a blockbuster production set, right?”
“This is the modified list,” the man to Alec’s right, Stephen, says. “Trust me, this is significantly better than it once was.”
You open the folder, scanning the document. “Alkaline water, glass bottle. Absolutely no plastic,” you read. “Organic, non-GMO, dye free, gluten free crackers. Did he just pick every Whole Foods buzzword and stick them together?”
“We will make this as easy for you as we can. We just need you to focus on the episode. Okay?”
“Fine,” you mumble, shutting the folder. “He breaks any of my equipment, I’m billing you.”
“Deal.”
Two days later you’re sitting in your makeshift command center with your crew mates, Andrew and Mike, making sure that all the monitors are displaying the feeds from the static cameras set up inside the mansion. You’ve already filmed solo interview segments with the owner, an elderly man who inherited the house over thirty years ago but left it untouched because of what he believes is a ghostly presence.
The sun is low behind the gorgeous Queen Anne Victorian home, orange sky haloing the steep roofed mansion. The historic building sits on six acres of land surrounded by a wrought iron fence that the owner, Paul, had to unlock for you to set up for the night filming session you would be doing this evening. He stands behind you now with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you connect your equipment.
“So you’ll be in there all night?” He asks, voice wary.
“Most of it. We’ll get three hours of footage with Andrew following us through the house and then a few more hours of single camera action, coupled with the static night vision feeds that will roll all night. We’ll be inside until 3 a.m. and then work out here for a bit before packing up,” you reply. “Thank you so much for letting us come in and do an investigation.”
“I’ve got a bet going with a buddy of mine,” Paul says, puffing his chest out. “If you find something, he owes me a hundred bucks.”
You laugh. “I can’t guarantee anything. My goal isn’t to make a ghost where there isn’t one.”
“I know, I know. But I’m telling you, this place has always been weird.” He glances up at the house, his frame shivering despite the California warmth. “Doors always opening and shutting on their own, footsteps, voices. Whole nine yards. S’why I never moved in.”
You knew all of this, of course. You’d done a walk through of the property with one of your camera guys, letting Paul tell you his first hand experiences in the old house. You’re about to reply when the sound of a car barreling up the gravel driveway pulls your attention away from the conversation.
A black Escalade approaches, coming to a stop in a cloud of dirt that makes you cough. Paul pats your back as the back door opens and designer boots drop onto the gravel.
Dieter Bravo stands with one hand gripping the door of the car while he uses his other hand to tilt his sunglasses down his nose to squint at you. He’s wearing black joggers and a faded gray t-shirt with a hole near the collar, his hair a fluffy mess of dark curls.
“Hey,” you say in greeting. You hold a hand out and give him your name, forcing a smile on your face. “Welcome to the command center.”
“Command center? This some kind of secret army operation or something?” He asks, shutting the door and walking past you, leaving you with your hand out stretched for an unreciprocated handshake.
“Michael keeps an eye on the static cameras in case one needs to be fixed,” you explain, gesturing to the man sat in front of the wall of screens with a headset on. “Now that you’re here only,” — you check your watch — “an hour late, we can get started. Andrew, could you get him mic’d?”
Andrew approaches with a wireless microphone and the actor steps back and holds his hands up. “Hold up, I gotta make sure you got everything.”
“Got everything?” You ask.
“Yeah. My snacks and water?” He looks around expectantly.
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yes, they got your snacks. They’re in the cooler. Can you please let Andrew get your mic on? We have to start the guest filming before the light is gone.”
Andrew approaches Dieter again, who lets him get close enough to hook the mic to the waist of his pants. Dieter smirks as he says, “You could at least buy me dinner first.”
You groan, grabbing your own mic. “Let’s get started.”
“The mansion itself was built in the late 1800s and has only been home to two families since it was finished. It’s been in Paul’s possession for thirty years,” you say, walking backwards towards the house as the camera man follows. Dieter stands off to the side of the wraparound porch, waiting for his cue. “And tonight, we’ve got the exclusive opportunity to explore this gorgeous home with a special guest. Tonight’s Spirit Seeker is none other than Emmy Award winning actor, Dieter Bravo!”
Dieter steps into frame and gives a smile to the camera, clapping his hands together. “Let’s catch some ghosts!”
“Now, Dieter, we’re not the Ghostbusters,” you say, your voice deadpan. Dieter raises his eyebrows at you.
“That’s the best you’ve got?” He asks. Your brows pinch together.
“Excuse me?”
“‘We’re not the Ghostbusters’? Really?” He waves his hands to the camera. “Come on, sweetheart, give it a little more energy.”
Your teeth are clenched so hard your jaw aches. “I had energy over an hour ago. You know, when you were supposed to get here?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Can we just get inside?”
He holds an arm out, gesturing for you to enter in front of him. Having toured the mansion already, you signal to Andrew to focus the camera on your guest for his reaction.
Dieter looks around the foyer, grand staircase and marble floors the centerpieces of the large space. “It’s a damn shame they don’t make them like this anymore. Look at the carvings! This has gotta be all original, right?”
“Yep. They’ve only upgraded the internal stuff, like plumbing and electrical,” you confirm. “The owner, Paul, inherited the house after his grandfather passed thirty years ago. He used to spend his summers here when he was a child and vividly remembers experiencing some…unexplained events that have left an impression on him.” You approach a table that’s been set up with your usually line up of equipment. “Tonight, we’re going to see if we can find an explanation for the inexplicable.”
“That’s so cheesy,” Dieter laughs. “You’ve got the cutest serious face, though.”
He thinks I’m cute? Your treacherous brain says, your face heating in response to the compliment. You quickly look at your equipment.
“Anyways,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s go through the equipment.”
You start with the basics. A digital recorder for capturing electronic voice phenomenon, night vision cameras, and dowsing rods. Further down the table you have thermal cameras, electromagnetic field meters, REM pods, and spirit boxes. Dieter listens attentively, to your surprise, and even asks a thoughtful question about the spirit boxes.
“How about we divvy up the gear? I can take the recorder and thermal camera, you can take the EMF reader—“
“No can do,” he interrupts, holding his hands up. “I don’t fuck with EMF.”
You blink. “What do you mean?”
“That shit is toxic. It’ll warp your DNA.”
“Dieter,” you say incredulously, “The entire planet is comprised of EMF.”
“No, that’s the geomagnetic field,” he argues.
“It’s the same thing!” You take a deep breath. “You know what? I’ll take the EMF detector. You can have the thermal camera,” you compromise, shoving the camera into his hands. You hastily gather the rest of the devices.
“Alright. Let’s do this.”
It’s the last hour of the main filming session where Andrew films you and Dieter using the equipment. So far, there haven’t been many notable experiences. You’ve captured a few creaking floorboards and the EMF meter has gone off a few times, but nothing that you can undoubtedly point to as proof of the paranormal, which is par for the course. What people don’t realize when watching your heavily edited show is that you cut out hours of silence and empty footage.
“Alright, Andrew, you’re welcome to head out. We’ll do a bit more upstairs,” you tell the camera man. “Thanks for you help.”
“‘Night, boss,” he replies with a little salute. Dieter watches him as he leaves.
“So, it’s just us now, huh?” He says, his eyebrows raised suggestively. “All alone in a haunted house…pretty hot.”
“Oh, please,” you say nervously, fiddling with your thermal camera, “We haven’t gotten any evidence that this place is haunted.”
“Maybe the ghosts are just shy,” he suggests.
You grab the REM pod and turn on the device, the LED lights flashing. “Let’s do a REM pod session. Here, hold the camera.”
Dieter holds the expensive equipment delicately, staring at the night vision screen to keep you in frame. “Not often I get put behind the camera,” he comments.
You spend the next twenty minutes asking a series of questions in the quiet room, your digital recorder running in your hand. Dieter remains focused on the screen.
“Why don’t you playback the recording?” He suggests. You glance at him, his face illuminated in the dark by the lights of the camera and the faint moonlight that filters through a window.
“Good idea,” you admit, hitting the stop button and running the tape back. There’s some static feedback before your voice announces the date and time of the recording.
“Is there anyone here with us?” Your recorded voice asks. There’s a beat of silence and you fully expect your voice to be the next thing you hear but instead there’s a garbled, “Yes.”
“Holy shit!” Dieter shouts. “That was a fucking ghost!”
“Shhh!” You hiss, flapping your hand at him. You play it back and sure enough, the same disembodied voice echoes through the room, clear as day. “Holy shit!”
“Play the rest, play the rest,” Dieter demands. He steps closer with the camera trained on the recorder.
Together, you listen to the rest of the recording. There’s another moment where you think you might have gotten a response, but it’s not as clear as the first one. You play it back again and again, and finally Dieter takes the recorder from you.
“Alright, enough, if I hear you ask, ‘Do you mean any harm?’, one more time, I’m going to have to tattoo it across my ass,” he says with a laugh. “Actually, that would be kind of cool, right? Very…provocative.”
“Oh my god.” You can’t help but laugh and the man’s face lights up with a cute smile, the corners of his brown eyes creasing with the force of it. “Let’s go check out the study.”
“How does this one work?” Dieter asks as you turn on the spirit box, the staticky feedback noise filling the room.
“It sweeps through different radio stations rapidly and, theoretically, a paranormal entity can manipulate it and use it to speak. Just ask question.” You fix the camera on him. “Ready when you are.”
“So…do any of the ghosts think I’m hot?” He asks, glancing around the room. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh as the static continues. “Tough crowd.”
You roll your eyes. “Be serious.”
“Okay, okay, fine. Uh…did anything like…bad….happen to you?” No response. “Do you…like having guests?”
“No.”
Dieter jumps, eyes wide as he looks at the spirit box. “No fucking way,” he says excitedly. “Okay, uh, why don’t you want guests?”
“Loud.”
“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Keep going!”
“Do you want to hurt us?” Dieter asks. The device is silent, no responses coming through. His shoulders drop in disappointment. “Damn. Some confirmation that we’re dealing with Casper and not that fucking thing from Insidious would have been nice.”
“Try one more question? I’m going to get the thermal cam,” you tell him, rushing to the desk in the center of the room for your equipment. You hastily power it on and point both cameras at him. “Ok, go.”
“You’re supposed to say action,” Dieter says, making you roll your eyes. “But I’ll let it slide. Hmm…ghost, is there a room we should explore next?”
It’s silent for a beat, and you think maybe the session may be over, but suddenly the device spits out the word, “Attic.”
Dieter stares at you with wide eyes. “Guess we’ve gotta go higher.”
“Let’s do it.”
You open the door to the attic, revealing a dark, narrow staircase that looks particularly haunting. The man stands at your back, looking up into the inky black darkness. He audibly swallows.
“Uh…how about you go first? You’re the professional,” he suggests.
“You scared?” You tease, taking a tentative step forward. “It’s just a little attic.”
“In a very haunted house!” He hisses. “What if it’s luring us here to kill us?”
“Then you would have had to film for this ‘stupid show’ with nothing to show for it. Tragic,” you reply sarcastically, placing quotes around the words stupid show.
Because that’s what you’ve heard him call it. Your show was up for a Primetime Emmy award last year for your Halloween special and it was your first time attending an award show. Dieter was there to present an award and was seated only a few seats down from you, talking to another actor you vaguely recognized, when you overheard his feelings for your show.
“I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category,” he said, loudly. “It doesn’t even belong here.”
“What are you talking about?” Dieter asks as you reach the open attic. There’s a circular window that looks out over the grounds, caked with dust and only allowing a tiny amount of light into the room. You turn to face him.
“At the Emmy Awards last year. I was sitting two seats down from you and you said — and I quote — ‘I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category’,” you snap.
He stares at you incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I love your show. I’ve been begging my agent to get me on as a guest since your first episode!”
“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically.
“It’s true! Just ask him!” He steps closer, eyes wide and pleading, looking like a puppy who’s just been reprimanded. “I was talking about that stupid potato documentary. It was boring as hell and had no reason being nominated!”
“Wait…so...you like my show?”
“I love your show. It’s, like, the closest thing to being in an episode of Scooby-Doo.”
You laugh and Dieter’s face brightens, like he knows he’s in the clear. Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming has you both screaming and Dieter launches forward, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he leaps into the air.
It catches you by surprise, all of his weight leaning into you and sending you crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and an echo of groans.
“What the fuck was that?!” You ask. “Dieter, get off, I can’t breathe!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, rolling off of you with a thump and another pained noise. “You were supposed to catch me.”
“Catch you?” You wheeze, flat on your back.
“Yeah, like in the shows. Scooby always caught Shaggy.”
“Why am I Scooby?!”
“I don’t know,” he shouts. “Listen, let me go check what that was.”
“You’re not leaving me up here,” you hiss. “We go together.”
The two of you make it to the bottom of the stairs, only to discover that the door to the attic has slammed shut. Not only that, but the damn thing won’t open. Dieter slams his shoulder into it as he twists the knob, cursing up a storm as he tries to shove it open with no luck.
“Remember what I said about the ghosts trying to murder us?” He asks.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a radio. I’ll tell Michael he needs to come try to open the door.” You tug the radio free from the waist of your jeans, pressing the button and asking, “Mike? You there?”
Silence fills the room. You try again.
“Mike?”
More silence.
“Fucking Mike,” Dieter grumbles. He heads back upstairs to the attic and you trail after him. He makes a beeline for the small window, feeling around the edges of it. “Maybe we can get the window open and call out to him.”
“Good idea,” you tell him, coming up beside him and pulling a flashlight from your back pocket, shining the light on the windowsill to help him find the latch.
There’s a rusted crank that he starts turning, the hinges squeaking loudly enough to make you wince. The window opens the slightest bit, fresh air flowing into the stale room.
“Can you get it open a little more?” You ask. With a grunt, he forces the crank around, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt.
Not that you’re watching his biceps. Or the muscles of his back as he moves. Definitely not.
“That’s as far as it’ll go,” he says. “See if you can see your little tent down there.”
“Command center,” you grumble, doing as suggested. You can can’t see much except a corner of the white tent fabric, but you call out anyways, “Michael! Mike! Hey!”
There’s no movement from below, no responding shout. You call out for him again and again, but it’s no use. He’s clearly not answering.
“I don’t have my phone during investigations. Do you have yours?” You ask. Dieter pulls his phone from his front pocket.
“Fuck, it’s dead,” he groans, tapping the black screen. You sigh.
“What are we supposed to do now?” You check your watch and find it’s 1:30 a.m. You have no idea where the fuck Mike went, but hopefully he’ll be back by 3 a.m. for debrief and a very stern lecture about abandoning his post. Dieter grins at you.
“Wanna get high?”
“The episode you did at the asylum in Kentucky is my favorite. It’s so fucking scary. The gurney moving? The shadows? Fuck, I was hiding in a blanket the whole time,” Dieter says.
You’re sitting beside each other with your legs out in front of you, your backs leaning against the wall beneath the small window. You’re pleasantly buzzed, your head a little fuzzy and your limbs loose from the joint you’ve passed back and forth for the last half hour and you’ve been talking about your favorite episodes, yours to film and his to watch, the conversation flowing surprisingly well.
“You know, maybe I was wrong about you,” you say when there’s a lull in conversation. Dieter looks at you, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I just…I don’t know. I thought you were this high maintenance asshole, I guess. But you’re kinda cool.”
Dieter laughs. “Oh, baby, I’m definitely high maintenance. You weren’t wrong about that.”
Something about Dieter calling you baby makes you feel warm and gooey. You’d like to blame it on the weed but if you’re honest with yourself for once, it’s because of him. You tried not to like him, you really did, but he’s funny and nice and doesn’t think your whole ghost hunting gig is a waste of time like a lot of men you’ve dealt with in the past. Not to mention he’s so hot, with his messy hair and pretty brown eyes and warm tan skin. Sure, he’s a pain in the ass, but you’re realizing now that it’s actually part of his charm.
You must be quiet for too long or fidget too much because he’s smirking at you now, plush lips tilted up mischievously. “You liked that, huh?” He asks.
“Liked what?” You whisper. He’s scooches closer, his thigh pressing against yours and your shoulders brushing.
“Me calling you baaaaby,” he says, drawing out the word teasingly. “You got all quiet about it.”
“N-no I didn’t.”
“Riiiight,” he teases. He twists his body, reaching an arm across to grip your thigh. “C’mere.”
You go willingly, maneuvering your clumsy limbs until your legs are spread over his lap. He looks up at you with glassy eyes and a syrupy smile, sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans.
“You wanna try that again, baby?” He buries his face against your chest and you laugh, squirming in his grip. “Come on, be honest with me.”
“Maybe…maybe I kinda like it,” you mumble. His hands drift up your waist.
“Like what?”
“When you call me baby.”
He presses a kiss to your collarbone, the touch electrifying. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
“You’re so annoying,” you huff, trying to pull away from him. He holds you tightly.
“Nooooo,” Dieter whines, peppering kisses along all the skin exposed by your tank top that he can reach.”’M sorry, I’ll be good for you, baby.”
Your eyes flutter as you sink into his hold. His light kisses turn into teasing nips of his teeth that make you gasp and grind yourself over his lap. You can feel him growing hard beneath you, the length of his cock pressing deliciously against the seam of your jeans to give you the friction you’re craving.
Dieter’s hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his lips to yours. It’s awkward at first, just a lingering peck, but then he licks at your bottom lip and you open up for him, his tongue hot against yours as you explore each other. Your mouths are a little dry from the weed but the kiss quickly grows hot and wet, a little desperate and messy as you move together.
“Fuck,” Dieter groans when he pulls back for a breath. “Keep moving, just like that.”
You have a better idea, though. You move down a little bit until you can get your hands on the fly of his pants, popping the button and pulling the zipper. He helps you out a bit, lifting his hips to shove his pants down just enough for you to reach into his boxers and wrap a hand around his thick cock. His eyes are dark and his mouth goes slack as you slowly bring your fist up, palming the slick head and smearing the bead of precum around the sensitive tip.
You withdraw your hand, bringing it to your face to lick your palm, getting it nice and wet as you keep your gaze fixed on him. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving with the effort and he gasps when you take him back in your hand.
“Fuck, feels so fucking good,” he groans, tipping his head back against the wall with a thump. “Tighter, baby, squeeze it tighter. Fuck, that’s a good girl.”
His words have your clit aching with need and you reach down with your other hand to unbutton your jeans, trying to keeping your motions coordinated as you do. Dieter looks up and notices what you’re trying to do.
“You need a lil something, baby?” He asks. When you nod, his hand smacks yours away, successfully undoing the button and zipper. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
His hand slides beneath your jeans and panties, thick fingers quickly zeroing in on your needy clit with tight circles that have your hand stilling around his cock as you moan. His other wraps around yours, encouraging your movements as he plays with your pussy.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, fingers dipping lower until they’re pressing against your slick entrance. “Keep moving your hand, baby.”
You hadn’t even noticed that you stopped, too focused on how good his touch felt. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.
“Don’t be sorry,” Dieter murmurs, one finger pressing slowly inside of you. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
You try to focus on his cock, sliding your tight fist over his length, twisting your wrist around the flushed head, smearing the wetness at the tip around with your thumb. He pumps one finger, then two inside of you in a matching rhythm, the heel of his hand brushing your clit and making you moan.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, rocking your hips the slightest bit. “I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it, baby, I’m right there with you,” Dieter replies, his own hips chasing your hand. “Come on, come on, all over my hand, baby.”
The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your muscles tightening before releasing all at once as you cum, clenching around his fingers and moaning his name. Warmth spreads over your hand and when you finally open your eyes you see that Dieter has cum as well.
“Uh,” you say awkwardly, “What…what do I do?”
“Huh?” Dieter mumbles, withdrawing his hand from your jeans.
“With the” — you nod towards your cum covered hand — “mess?”
“Oh, right. Uh…just kinda…wipe it into my boxers?” He says. You do as he suggests, wiping the sticky mess into the fabric. “I’ll just deal with it later.”
“Boss? You there?” Mike’s voice calls out over the radio, which sits discarded to the side. You scramble off of Dieter’s lap to grab the device.
“Mike! We’ve been locked in the attic for over an hour!” You hiss. “Come get us right now and maybe I’ll let you keep your job.”
Mike responds that he’ll be right up and you fix your pants, hooking the radio back onto your jeans. Dieter stands, pulling his pants up and gathering some of the equipment. You stand together, waiting for Mike in what you would consider an awkward silence until Dieter bumps your shoulder with his.
“We should do that again sometime,” he says. “Maybe without the audience.”
“Audience?” You ask.
He leans in close, lips brushing your ear and making your shiver as he whispers, “The ghosts.” You shove him away, both of you dissolving into giggles. His face grows serious once more. “No, really. You wanna like…get breakfast or something? I know this good farm-to-table place that opens super early.” You smile at him.
“I’d like that.”
Dieter sits on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a box of gluten free crackers in his lap. “Hurry up! It’s starting!”
“Your fancy microwave burned my popcorn,” you whine as you rush back into the living room. Dieter sneaks a hand into your bowl, shoving popcorn hastily into his mouth. “Hey!”
“Boyfriend tax,” he explains. “Now, hush, or I won’t invite you over to watch anymore.”
“It’s my show!”
The opening theme music starts, some eerie instrumental that plays over a montage of scenes from earlier episodes. As the music fades, shots of the house and your recorded voiceover explain the location for the episode right before it cuts to you and Dieter.
“…And this, is Spirit Seekers,” you and Dieter say along with your recorded self, matching grins on your faces.
Dieter Bravo masterlist
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@simurghed ok here are some miscellaneous nothing thoughts ive had about undersiders team vacation for you. this is my purest form of autism theres literally nothing interesting under this post just a lot of words of me sticking undersiders into situations. thats not intended as self deprecation just fair warning
if they went in a cave where the tour guide is like "DO NOT TOUCH ANY CAVE FORMATIONS or they will BE DESTROYED, FOREVER, after THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF BEAUTIFUL EXISTENCE" brian would immediately proceed to spend the entire tour staring at aisha and alec instead of looking at the rocks and shit and preparing to grab them if either of them attempts to touch a cave formation. alec would accidentally set his hand on one w/o realizing while huffing and puffing his way up stairs or a steep incline but he would be walking behind the rest of the team so no one would notice and he would pretend it didn't happen
brian accidentally slams his forehead into top of low tunnel everyone is walking through and swears for like 20 continuous seconds and then has to go sit somewhere with an ice pack and the entire time hes like I bet aisha and alec are touching so many fucking cave formations right now.
if the undersiders went on a hike or something where there were like. Ledges. over Long Drops. aisha would without doubt go stand on them and dick around in a spry 13yo manner and it would freak brian out so much he would yell Aisha Middle Name Laborn Get Your Ass The FUCK Down From There!!!!! and then she would pretend to be startled like she was about to fall off for a moment and he would almost have a heart attack and he would be so mad for the entire rest of the day and not let her off the trail at all and keep glaring at her
if they went to a beach they could all wear cute little swimsuits...taylor would have a full bodysuit (dark gray) but mostly just spend time sitting in a chair reading. rachie wouldnt wear a swimsuit but she would just take her dogs up and down the beach on walks in normal clothes and maybe get a bit damp anyway. brian would wear swim trunks and a long-sleeved top because he also feels uncomfortable having too much skin exposed but, like, more quietly. aisha is wearing a purple tankini with one of brians giant t-shirts over top. voluntarily, to be clear, ifeel like someone might misinterpret this as "brian made her" but shes doing that on purpose. i also think she has at least one "nightgown" that is fully a massive shirt stolen from brian but thats besides the point. lisa is wearing a purple bikini with one of those like. flowy half-skirts tied around the bottom. and alec is wearing girls swim shorts and one of those sheer white swim cover tops youre supposed to take off before you get in the water except he's not taking it off
aisha keeps pestering alec to go swimming with her and he's like sure ok and lets her drag him in. and then almost drowns because he doesn't know how to swim and figured he could just "wing it." brian has to dredge him out and he spends several minutes coughing up seawater sopping wet style while brian takes the opportunity to lecture about how he's stupid. and then he spends the next half hour after that complaining about how there is Sand up his Buttcrack.
aisha and alec spend literally like over half an hour just standing next to taylors chair pestering her to make a crab rave happen. she tries to ask lisa for back-up but lisa says she also wants to see the crab rave. so it happens. very clandestinely with only a few crabs.
aisha demands a ride on brian's shoulders into the ocean. he obliges. alec demands to get to go next. he is denied, because brian thinks it would be kind of gay. he doesn't say that, but it's what he's thinking.
i think they should get to have the most miserable time on the planet all waiting for their turns to shower off in the hotel room after going swimming. reasonably they would have multiple rooms but i like to envision theres only one and everyone is shivering and holding malicious intent towards whoever is actively in the shower. they make alec go last because they know how he is with long showers and he just kind of sits tragically on the entry tile in a slowly collecting puddle of sandy water and stares into space looking haunted and intermittently shivering
undersiders trip to history museum. undersiders trip to preserved historical building. undersiders trip to preserved fancy mansion. ive posted about this one before but both alec and brian are enjoying it (for different reasons) while aisha HATES it and it's freaking all three of them out a little. alec is performatively trying to pretend he also thinks it's lame because he's (largely platonically) whipped but then he turns around and asks the tour guide an actual question and he and aisha both know that in this moment he has betrayed and abandoned her. they reconcile via shared advocacy for ice cream afterwards
alec vasil hot and tired of walking frow up incident, no deaths, intense injury to one boy's pride and also his shoes
brian laborns intense and immense joy over getting to organize and use the contents of his cargo shorts
the incredible drama of brian laborn trying to parallel park the van in a really tight spot while lisa and taylor both play unwanted spotter for him and he's like Please. just Let me Concentr-. Just let me do what i need to do just be quiet for a minute . they do stop talking for a minute, during which aisha takes the opportunity to start making fart noises
rachel lindt is fitting so many ouppie dogs in the van and theyre just kind of ferreting between everyones legs and climbing onto laps to stick their heads out the windows and shit. this starts off as something everyone but rachel is mad about but settles into a more amenable cuddle pile situation
undersiders go to aquarium or zoo....zoo would be more fun to witness because alec would complain about it being hot + smelling bad the whole time. lisa has the intelligent idea to quiet him with a blue raspberry slushie
speaking of lisa you know shes going into this entire thing like Taylor Specifically has to have the most funnest specialest time ever. shes always like "ok ill read some dinner options off the phone :)" and then all 5 of them are things taylor specifically would love. and so on and so forth.
alec vasil spotted wandering lost and ghostlike in the modern art gallery
i could go on
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You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)
Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott, f!reader
Summary: You and Rhett have a unique friendship. Every time you go out with a group, you end up getting drunk, dancing, and making out with him only to then wind up going home with other people. But what happens when Rhett asks you to dance before either of you has had a drink....
Word Count: 3744
TW: Fluff, Kissing, Love Confession, Drinking, Mentions of drunk making out, Mentions of drunk dancing, Language
Notes: For @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special based on "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This" by Toby Keith (RIP 😔💗)
Despite the relatively early hour, the bar was busier than usual even for a Saturday night. You had forgotten there was some big sports thing that weekend the next town over so the overabundance of unfamiliar faces blending into the sea of regulars was a bit of a shock when you first arrived with your friends but—miraculously—the six of you managed to stake your claim on a table not too far from where you usually sat.
However, you had struggled to squeeze through the crowd and since everyone else was already sitting when you finally caught up, it was unanimously decided you should fight your way back up to the bar to get the first round of drinks. You put up a brief mock protest before surrendering to the peer pressure, but secretly, you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to scope out the space and see if any of the out-of-towners caught your eye. Your town wasn’t small per se, but even in a medium-sized pond, there were only so many fish. So when there was a chance at some fresh blood, why not take advantage?
What seemed like an eternity later, you pushed your way back to your friends and practically threw the beers onto the table before collapsing into the booth. While you had enjoyed watching all the new potential hookups around you, you had also been relentlessly jostled, had beer spilled on your boots, and had three separate guys grab your ass before claiming it was an “accident” due to the crowd. And all just to get a crappy $7 beer. Ridiculous.
As you took your first drink, you finally realized only five people were sitting around the table instead of six. Nudging Parker who was sitting next to you, you leaned over and shouted above the music, “Where’d Rhett go?”
She shrugged dismissively, her attention locked on some douchy-looking frat bro eye-fucking her from a few tables away. “I don’t know. He said something about going to help you with the drinks or something.”
“Well, I never saw him.”
“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”
Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”
She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you.
You caught Alec’s eye over the top of Parker’s head and you both tried to suppress a chuckle. Parker infamously made the worst choices when it came to men and she only dug her claws in deeper when any of you tried to talk her out of them, so it was better to just let her do whatever she was going to do and help her deal with the consequences afterward.
Relaxing back in your seat, you took another long drink from your beer. It was now almost half empty and just the thought of wading back through the crowd for another one made you internally groan. Though you could probably convince Alec to go since you got the first round but that would involv–
Your internal conversation was cut off as you spotted Rhett pushing his way through the crowd towards the table. Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Oh, there you are. I thought you might have gotten trampled by the mob of people or something. Your beer’s getting war–”
“Come dance with me.”
You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table.
It was a given at this point that by the end of the night, you and Rhett would end up hammered, uninhibited, and viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. It’s what happened every time you went to the bar: You’d both drink, you’d both dance together, you’d both get all hot and bothered, and you’d both find someone else to take you home for the night. It was a strange system but it worked. Parker once joked that you were each other’s fluffers, just getting things ready for your real targets for the night. And while you would prefer to phrase it somewhat more tastefully, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Plus, you had found that a lot of guys (and girls in Rhett’s case) loved watching you making out with someone else, rubbing your body all over theirs, just for you to go home with them instead. It seemed as if the two of you weren’t the only ones getting fluffed in this situation.
However, neither you nor Rhett ever stepped foot on the dance floor until you’d finished at least three or four beers. He was fairly shy and reserved when sober and you both were very self-conscious of your dancing before getting at least slightly buzzed. Yet you were currently only halfway through beer number one and his first beer still sat unopened on the table next to you. Rhett might have pre-gamed on his own before you, Tara, and Spencer picked him up, but he seemed completely sober so you couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.
“I–but we–I mean…”
Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”
“Bu-but what about our drinks?”
“I’m sure Parker—” he took one glance at your friend sitting next to you still making “do-me” eyes at the frat boy and corrected his statement “—Tara wouldn’t mind keepin’ an eye on ‘em.”
“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”
“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.
Tara elbowed her boyfriend with a scowl before turning back to you and gesturing for you to go. Still confused about the change in your routine, you took Rhett’s hand and let him help you to your feet. As he led you towards the dance floor, you turned your head just in time to see Tara and Spencer laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of you leave. Then Spencer reached for Rhett’s beer but Tara slapped his hand away.
You knew your friends didn’t understand this weird arrangement you and Rhett had fallen into—hell, it barely made sense to you. They were all convinced as they watched you week after week that the two of you were falling in love. They never believed you’re just friends having a little drunken fun.
Not that you hadn’t ever considered Rhett as a potential love connection. The first night you met him, that was where you thought things were headed. He had finally had enough of his toxic home life back in Wyoming and was looking for a fresh start somewhere new. So when a contact from his time bull-riding who lived in town offered him a job, he jumped at the opportunity.
You met him a few days later in this very bar when you saw him sitting all alone in the back corner. Of course, you noticed his classic-cowboy good looks, but what really caught your eye was how nervous and shy he seemed, his eyes mostly trained on the beer in front of him except when they occasionally shifted around the bar uncertainly. It wasn’t as if he were scared of someone seeing him or that he was on the run from something. No. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who wasn’t sure of where to sit at lunch.
So, you had gone and sat down at his table with two beers and a friendly smile. It took quite a bit of patience and coaxing, but Rhett eventually began to open up to you. Then, just as you were going to make the move to his side of the booth, your friends found you and asked for an introduction. By the end of the night, Rhett had slipped naturally into the gang and it felt weird pursuing him in any romantic way after that. After all, you could see how much he needed a support system in this new town and you didn’t want to take that from him for a one-night fling.
Which was why when you found yourselves sloppily making out in the middle of the dance floor a few weeks later and he just brushed it off like it was nothing, you didn’t push it or question it. And when it happened again, and again, and again, it just felt like a routine or a tradition and you never looked deeper into it.
But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.
Once you reached the dance floor, Rhett pulled you in close and the two of you began to dance. There were so many people around you that you couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, but since you usually just rubbed against each other while making out, it shouldn’t have been an issue. However, without the usual buzz from the drinks, you were way too in your head about every move you made. Your usual fluid, natural movements felt stiff and robotic, and all you could think about was where Rhett’s hands were or what part of him was pressed against you at any given time. It was a disaster.
The song ended and a soft, melodic tune began to play. Slow songs were pretty rare but they were always the perfect opportunity for another drink, and boy did you need one. You turned to brave the crowd around the bar once more, however, Rhett’s fingers slipped into yours and he spun you back into his arms.
A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.”
“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”
“Tonight we do.” He must have seen the hesitation still on your face because he squeezed your hand. “Come on. You can tough it out for one song, then they’ll play somethin’ fast we can move to and you’ll get into the flow of it. Otherwise, you’ll just be waitin’ in that line for the rest of the night.”
Even pressed against him and over the softer melody of the slow music, the deep timbre of his voice was still difficult to hear but you knew he was right. By the time you made it through the crowd of people to reach the bar for another drink, many upbeat songs would have passed and there was a good chance you’d be ticked off by your waiting experience just like the first time. Instead, you could just stick it out here with Rhett and you’d be back to your usual dancing in mere minutes. And he was probably right. Given a few more songs, you’d probably figure out this sober dancing thing and actually enjoy yourself. So, somewhat reluctantly, you nodded to signal you’d stay.
Apparently, many of the people around you had the same thought you originally did because the crowds around you began to thin out giving you and Rhett a little more room to maneuver. The two of you were swaying together slowly and you have to admit it’s a nice change from your usual high-energy grinding.
Then as the music began to swell, he surprised you by spinning you out and when you twirled back into him, Rhett placed his hand on the center of your back and pulled you tight until you were pressed firmly against his chest. You looked up–unsure of what he was doing–just as his other hand brushed across your cheek to settle on the nape of your neck. One of the colored lights flashed across his face, illuminating the intensity deep within his eyes as he stared at you, and you felt your heart skip a beat as time seemed to freeze around you.
But that was silly. This was Rhett. You shouldn’t feel this fluttering in your chest or tingling where his skin brushed yours. He was your good friend, someone you had made out with every week and barely gave it a second thought. So why was there this different feel about him tonight? Why couldn't you take your eyes off his lips, why was your head spinning, and why were your knees growing weak? And why didn’t you want it to stop?
Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.
Electricity shot right through you as every nerve in your body seemed to light up at once. It felt like you had just jammed a fork into an electrical socket but in the best of ways. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared with Rhett—with anyone—before. Usually, your kisses with Rhett were drunken, and sloppy, and uncoordinated. But this…Rhett was as sober as you ever see him, and every curl of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it all felt so fluid, almost choreographed. As if he had planned for this moment for ages.
Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace. You could no longer tell if you were standing still or spinning around and around and around as a dizzying fog enveloped your mind. For a few seconds, you didn’t even know where you were at. All that existed was you and Rhett and the kiss.
But then you shifted, the top of your head bumping into the brim of his hat almost knocking it off, and the spell was broken. Rhett pulled away, fixing his hat, and leaving you clinging to him for support as the world came rushing back to you. The slow song was still playing and crowds of people around you still occasionally bumped into you as they danced, And yet, from the moment Rhett’s lips touched yours, everything had changed.
But had he felt it too?
With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”
“An’ why’s that?”
“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just gave you that same intense stare he had just before the kiss and you felt your heart begin to speed up once more. Then, in a voice you could only just make out over the music, he asked, “What if that’s the point? What if I’m tired of waitin’ for her to figure out how I feel?”
All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”
“No…No…” Before you could process what he was saying, he shook his head and stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he released his hold on you. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m doin’ this all wrong. But I couldn’t take another week of you wrapped in my arms, your lips on mine, just to then watch you go home with someone else. I just…I just wanted you to know. ‘m sorry.”
He started to hurry off the dance floor but this time it was your turn to grab his arm to stop him from leaving. His eyes flickered up to yours and you saw that all the confidence and certainty that had been there before had been extinguished, leaving only fear behind. You knew it was the same fear you were feeling right now: fear of this changing everything; fear of this ruining your friendship; fear of what came next.
Sliding your hand into his and linking your fingers, you muttered, “Come here” before leading him off the dance floor and back towards the rear of the building. There was a separate concert area back there that they only opened for shows so you knew it was one of the few places in the bar that would give you some semblance of privacy.
Once there, you ducked into the empty space and shut the door. You could still feel the vibrations from the music and hear the dull thumping, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been before. In here, at least you and Rhett wouldn’t need to shout to be heard.
Now that you were alone, neither one of you seemed to know what to say or how to start. You both shifted slightly as you glanced at each other. Finally, Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Listen, can we just forget any of that happened? I don’t want things to be weird between us and ‘m sorry if—”
“No, I’m sorry,” you said, cutting him off. “I was just a little surprised by that kiss and what I said didn’t come out right. But what I should have said, what I meant to say—” you stepped forward until you were brushing up against him, placing your hands on his chest. “—was ‘you shouldn’t kiss me like this…unless you mean it like that’.”
Rhett’s long eyelashes fluttered several times in quick succession and you saw his Adam’s apple bob wildly out of the corner of your eye. Licking his lips, he hesitated for another moment then asked, “And if I do? If I–If I mean it like that?”
Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”
The moment that his lips touched yours, the world once again fell away. If anything, now that you were returning his kiss with the same tenderness and enthusiasm, it was even more intoxicating than the kiss on the dance floor and you never wanted it to end.
Both of Rhett’s large, calloused hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone. He used this leverage to drive you back a few steps and you soon felt your back bump against the wall. He pressed closer, sandwiching you between the cold, rough concrete and his warm, firm body. Another spark of electricity shot through you and you wondered if he felt it too as you felt the growing bulge in his pants jerk against your hip.
Through the haze of the kiss, you briefly considered how far you should let this go. A small part of you wanted to undo his belt right this second and drop to your knees before him, or to slide down your jeans and let him pound into you against this wall. After all, the two of you were still alone and no one would see you. However, the bigger part of you knew no matter how amazing you felt at this moment, this was all very new and you shouldn’t rush things. You and Rhett still needed to figure out what this meant for the two of you moving forward, and adding sex right now would just make things even more complicated.
Rhett must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted his hips so they were no longer pressed against you. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips off of yours. His hands slid off your face onto the wall behind you, one braced on either side of your head as both of you stared at one another panting as you tried to catch your breath. All you could do was look at Rhett’s lips and imagine them pressed against yours once more. And from how he stared at you, a hunger pulsing in his blue eyes, you felt he was thinking the same thing.
“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.
“I wanted to since that first night we met. When I saw how kind, and funny, and incredible you were, I was smitten. But then the rest of the gang showed up and for the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. I was afraid makin’ a move on you would ruin all a that and I figured havin’ you as a friend was better than not havin’ you in my life at all. For a while, I settled for our dances and kisses, but I finally realized I didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. So, I took a chance.”
“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”
Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”
Rhett’s cheeks grew red in the dim light but he nodded as he let his hands fall from the wall behind you. Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder. “Um, I guess we should probably get back before we get in trouble for bein’ back here.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara’s sent Spencer out to find us yet.” You pushed off the wall, but as Rhett started to open the door, you stopped him. “Rhett…what happens now? Where do we go from here?”
He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.
Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…
You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”
“Damn, sweetheart, looks like it was made for you,” Rhett’s voice was thicker than normal as he stared at you. “I shouldda given it to you the night we met, as soon as you sat down at my table with that smile and a beer.”
Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”
“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”
Thanks to @ohtobeleah for letting me include the honorary Dagger in her event 😂 I've wanted to write this for a while and it was the perfect motivation to do so
Tag list: @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @callsign-phoenix, @lt-natrace, @superskittles, @wkndwlff, @rhettabbotts, @ryebecca, @sio-ina-bottle, @lewmagoo, @basiccortez, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @blue-aconite, @ohtobeleah
#fic#leahsgalentinesdayspecial#rhett abbott#rhett abbott x reader#rhett abbott x you#rhett abbott imagine#rhett abbott outer range#outer range#lewis pullman#fluff#love confessions#kissing#language tw#drinking tw#drunk behavior tw
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The Red-Eyed Boy pt. ii
Pt. One | Three | Outtake
Alec x Swan!Fem!Reader
Summary: Your relationship with Alec was going smoothly, until Victoria's army comes for your sister.
Warnings:
Mild language
I'm a sucker for angst
Word Count: 1,798
A/N: Part 1 was originally just supposed to be a oneshot, but here I am. Enjoy! Pssst @rosedpetal and @badass-daisy-22 your wish is my command. ;)
He was laying on his bed, dressed more casually than I had ever seen him, in a simple white t-shirt and pajama bottoms, a book in hand. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the book was on ancient Greek myths, something that I was quite interested in and even planned to study in college.
His dark chocolate colored hair was splayed out across his pillow and I itched to touch it. Well, I really itched to touch all of him, but that was neither here nor there. I had a weird obsession with his hair. And his face. In particular his eyes and especially his lips. I grinned to myself, content just to watch with my being so far away.
Visions like this were rare, few and far in between.
I supposed it was kind of creepy, but in my defense I didn't really have control of these visions, especially since they happened while I was sleeping.
I could already feel the nudge of wakefulness pulling at me. I tried my best to burrow down deeper into sleep, but resistance was futile, and I found myself opening my eyes to see the ceiling of my bedroom back home in Forks, Washington.
I rolled over with a deep sigh. I would give anything to be in Volterra with Alec. Sadly I had a little bit longer to wait. Reaching for my phone I checked my messages and grinned to see a text from him.
'Missing you.'
Alec wasn't one for talking on the phone, he preferred to text, and almost always left me a good morning message to wake up to. Most days it was the highlight of my day.
I pressed the call button and he picked up before the second ring even made a sound.
"Good morning, tesoro."
"Good morning, love." I smiled, burrowing deeper into my covers.
I really just needed to hear his voice this morning.
"Y/N?"
It was Bella, her arm wrapped around my shoulders.
"Hey, sis." I gave her a hug, resting my forehead against her.
"Everything's gonna be ok."
"I know." I sighed. "Let's just get today over with. Grab that diploma and skedaddle."
Bella would definitely have to repeat high school at some point and I counted my lucky stars that I was not in her shoes in that regard. Or any other regard. My sister was a fucking danger magnet and the whole Victoria shit was just a big red neon sign that proved it.
There was a knock at the door and Bella opened it to see Alice. The vampire was bouncing on the tips of her toes already, and the gleam in her eyes scared me. Maybe if I let Bella go first then I could make my escape-
"I'd take Y/N first. She's planning on making a run for it."
Edward you twat. Where did you come from??
Edward just shot me a crooked grin as I glared at him from over my shoulder, Alice already dragging me up the stairs. With a sigh I sat on my bed like a good girl and let Alice do her thing. Thankfully I had already done my makeup, and Alice was content to give me some red lipstick for a pop of color.
"Alec will like it, promise." She gave me a wink and I swear I turned at least fifty shades of red.
"He's not even supposed to be here today. Do you know something I don't?" I eyed her skeptically, but the little bit of hope I was feeling was obvious.
She smiled at me sadly. "Sorry, Y/N. But speaking of lover-boy."
Alice turned to her bag and brought out a small ornate box, handing it to me with all the care in the world. From Alec?
I let my fingers curl around the box, admiring the designs carved into the dark colored wood. It was old, which was quite obvious, and while I had an inkling that it was a piece of jewelry, I was in no way prepared for when I opened the box. It was a small ruby pendant, about the size of my pinky nail, dangling from a golden chain. It had with a rough rectangular cut that rounded out a little at the bottom. I was immediately mesmerized, stroking the pendant in wonder.
It reminded me not just of blood, but of something else that I couldn't quite remember. It was then that I saw the note wedged into the top of the box. I unfolded it with shaking hands, overwhelmed and giddy.
For my Persephone.
Congratulations.
-A
My mouth popped open. Oh. Oh this boy was clever.
The ruby wasn't supposed to be blood, it was supposed to be a pomegranate seed. Like one of the seeds that Hades offered to Persephone. In the end, eating the pomegranate seeds forced her to return to the underworld to live half the year there with Hades. It was my favorite Greek myth, and I couldn't help but draw parallels between her story and my own. They were rather crooked parallels, but I wasn't too bothered by that.
I could feel the tears start to well up. I don't think I've ever received a gift that was so thoughtful.
"Oh hun. No. No." Alice was there beside me in a heartbeat, wiping the tears before they could fall.
"They're happy tears, Alice." I said with a small smile.
Well, not completely happy, I wished he was here of course. But I would be seeing him soon enough.
"I know. We don't wanna ruin your makeup. Let me help you put it on and we'll take a good portrait to send him, yeah?"
"Thanks, Alice. You're the best ever."
I only wished I had realized just how soon we would be seeing each other.
'I am in so much trouble.'
My anxiety, paired with the adrenaline rush, was practically so high I was pretty sure it was orbiting the moon. Jasper was by my side, doing his best to soothe not just me, but poor little Bree Tanner.
"How bad is it gonna be, Alice?" I whispered to her, wringing my hands together and bouncing on the tips of my toes. "How much trouble am I in?"
"Relax." She soothed.
"So pretty fucking bad. Do I have time to run?"
I was this close to hyperventilating.
I wasn't even supposed to be here. Bella almost had my head when she saw me on the back Jacob's wolf form, poised and ready to help. With what I wasn’t entirely sure in that moment. I had come up with the harebrained scheme to help muddle Bella's scent with my own by switching the matching jackets we had received for Christmas years ago. Emmet had made the comment a while ago that our scents were pretty similar, so I just kind of ran with the idea. It had worked so well that even Edward hadn't seemed to notice when Bella had slipped on my jacket instead of her own. It had helped split the army at least. Having two humans with similar scents had sent them all mixed signals, so it had kind of worked.
Or so I was telling myself.
So here I was, exactly in a place where I wasn't supposed to be, and the Volturi would be arriving any minute. More specifically Alec and the other elite guards from what Alice had said. None of whom I've had the pleasure of meeting yet. Including his sister. This was like… meeting your significant other's family for the first time.
Well, this was gonna be one hell of a hello.
"They're coming." Alice's panicked voice did nothing to calm me down.
Jasper put a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to help. "Try to relax, Y/N. It's not you he's going to angry with."
I simply nodded and fiddled with my necklace, the ruby seed feeling cold and smooth beneath my fingers. That helped a little as they appeared from the fog, and I found myself catching my breath when I saw Alec's silhouette emerge. He removed his hood and nearly froze when he caught sight of me. I gave him a small smile and a wave.
He let out a snarl that almost sent me hiding behind Jasper.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
"Y/N is safe." Carlisle soothed. "We never would have let anything happen to her."
"This is the second time your coven has dragged her into something dangerous." He hissed, voice low and deadly.
'Well, if we're gonna get technical about it Alec, we never would have met had it not been for that first time.'
Edward shot me a look.
What? It's not like I had said it out loud.
Wringing my hands, I stepped forward slightly before finally gathering the courage to approach him. He met me half way, gathering me into his arms. I let out a deep sigh of contentment as I buried my face in his jacket.
"I know you're angry." I whispered. "But I couldn't let something happen to Bella. They weren't even aware of what I was doing until it was too late. I'm sorry. For scaring you."
Alec said nothing for a long minute and I could feel the tension practically eating me alive.
"Alec." The red-eyed girl spoke, watching and taking us in.
Jane. His sister.
He simply nodded and left me standing there before returning to his position by her side. My heart dropped. He hadn't even bothered to say anything. I turned swiftly, blinking back tears. While I was sorry for scaring him, I refused to be sorry for my actions. Bella was my sister, and I would do what I could to help her. I stood a little behind Alice, staring at nothing and trying my best to turn off my emotions.
Jane spoke again. "Impressive. I have never seen a coven escape an assault of this magnitude intact."
"We were lucky." Carlisle answered.
"I doubt that."
I couldn't help the way my eyebrows shot up. Then I had to remind myself that this was Jane, and she had always proved exceptionally brutal in my visions. And this was no different, although it was Felix who did the dirty work this time. Bree was gone.
I didn't even blink at the end of it. I simply stood there, like a zombie when they finally disappeared. And Alec hadn't even said a word. The dam holding back the flood of tears finally broke.
'There goes my red-eyed boy.'
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putting microphone to your mouth. explain lisa wilbourn to me
these posts are the most important lisa images on the internet
i don't know how to explain lisa. she's a normal girl who has something wrong with her. her life before triggering was mundanely miserable and her life since triggering has been defined by trying to prevent the circumstances of her trigger over and over and over and over and coming out of it a 'better person' but in many ways a much sadder one. i don't think saying any parahumans character 'gets over' their trauma but lisa's someone who like. not even in the most charitable definition has in any way gotten over her trauma. outside of a few She Would Not Fucking Say That moments ward is pretty good with lisa and it's fucking tragic bc she's Still mourning taylor, she's trying to take care of aiden so he won't turn out like taylor, and she ends up getting similarly attached to victoria when she sees in just how low of a low victoria's around halfway through the story.( her rl w victoria is much healthier than her attachment to taylor bc she doesn't consider vicky a Full rex but those caring instincts still come out. )
something about lisa is that being lisa and interacting with lisa are both horrifying. lisa's power doesn't let her not know the best or worst way to talk to you. every time you're having an interaction with lisa, every time she's having an interaction with you, there has to be a conscious choice as to whether she's going to play into the informational power imbalance or whether she's going to try not to -- except, the information is still there, isn't it? unless she actively focused on something else or actively switched her attention around quickly so her power can't go into detail on things, she Knows things she shouldn't, and even if she doesn't act on that information, what you'll get out of her still isn't going to be her 'natural reaction' to what you're doing or saying. it can be the closest thing, but by having the information and not using it, the reaction she gives will still be one filtered through having the information and trying to Act as though she didn't. her power taints any social interaction. and sometimes its not a big deal, and of all her troubles i don't think this particular thing bothers her that much, but its kind of existentially horrifying that any interaction she has is imbalanced in her favor as far as knowing things about each other goes. whatever your or anyone's opinion on lisa's aromanticism, what she gave as her reason for why dating is hard/impossible for her rings true: she meets people and there's no mystery, they're almost immediately laid bare, and that changes things about the way she interacts with them and how she's willing to mentally categorize them in pretty much every context, not just dating. she took a single look at alec and immediately knew he was emotionally numbed and 'sociopathic', she immediately knew grue was concerned about putting up a tough front and about being Professional, she Immediately Knew taylor was basically on the brink of either suicide or something much like it. it taints everything. even when lisa's not being manipulative (which she often is on purpose) you can't Know that she's not just feeding you the right line or the next best thing as per her encylopedic knowledge of You. its fucked up!
and like ive mentioned other times i think this aspect of her power, having people laid bare before her, often their worst selves laid bare before her, really contributes to her cynicism and the arrogant front she puts up, because she may have flaws, but she knows that everyone else fucking sucks, too
theres more Stuff about her including the way in which shes manipulative her little neuroses and how her morality evolves throughout worm but im just rambling w/o a specific Point so idt i can share my thots on those and make them cohere in this specific post
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[crazy fucking girl] childhood enemies to lovers!reiner braun x reader
CW + what to expect: childhood enemies to lovers, sex allusions, s1 arc, TW!reiner braun being a bitch, annie being a literal moai jumpscare
a/n: english is not my first language and i´m not englishisnotmyfirstlanguagebaiting. also i might or might not keep this storyline in mind for future purposes...
“reiner i need to speak with you, it´s urgent,” you rushed him, interrupting his chat with presumably a friend of his whose name you couldn´t bother to recall.
it´s late at night, the whole scout regiment just had dinner and almost everyone was probably off sleeping already. you, however, had had the pleasure of finding out that same afternoon that the reason your potential fling had barely spoken to you in the whole day, was because a certain annoyingly stubborn blond had talked him out of it. and of course, the exact moment you heard, you were determined to find him and confront him (plus potentially rock his shit out).
“like right now?” he glares at you for what seems like hours, probably expecting you to go away and come find him some other time.
“sorry did i need to book a meeting?” you snap back as sarcastic as unfazed.
“i need to take this,” he rolls his eyes jokingly at his friend, gesturing him to leave you alone for a moment, and as soon as you are, his smile fades as he rolls his eyes.
you had known reiner braun practically since you were born. back in marley, it was not a popular blood type to be eldian, and the very few who were, were quite literally destined to fulfill the one and only role for the sake of their nation: becoming an honorary marleyan. aka, inheriting one of the eight titans that were currently in possession of the government, and spending your life –or rather what´s left of it– trying to get the founding and the attack titan back. you had that mission ingrained into your brain.
that led you to where you were now, halfway past an unbearable mission that was eating you from the inside out.
“why are you so popular now, anyways?” you comment with an irked tone once you get him alone, looking around the room. he isn´t even looking at you as he fiddles with some gear on the counter, with you facing his back.
“what do you want, y/n?” he says, visibly annoyed. you two never fancied a friendship back home in marley, and that was being polite with it. you were one of the best students and he was the one always falling behind, leaving you and porco to constantly tease him about it with, honestly, very idiotic remarks.
you checked multiple times until you were sure there was no one around eavesdropping. you wouldn´t want any eldians finding out about you two, annie, and bertholdt, in case anything slipped out mid-conversation. “i know you told alec warren i was undatable” you say finally and narrow your eyes, “very funny reiner, you really are the next big thing” you motion sarcastically. “listen, we hate each other; you hate me, i hate you, you´re a chicken, i´m a brat, that´s how it is, but-“
“are you done ranting?” he interrupts, leaving you perplexed. he´s never been as confident as to be that bold to you all of a sudden. however, you´re one to recover quickly.
“i don´t know, are you done chiming into my life? no one asked for you.”
“he came up to me and asked, okay?” he rolled his eyes. “i was just being sincere, and i didn´t tell him you were undatable, i simply commented on you being fucking crazy. the unhinged type, too.” this man remained unbothered.
“well that´s a lot fucking better,” you wave your hands exaggeratedly in the air, looking for his eyes. “you´re a bitch, braun. whatever happened to the boy whose eyes watered at any attempt of a critic.” you knew you were being harsh, but given his attitude today, you couldn’t give less of a fuck.
“i really don´t see the point in wasting time on relationships when we have bigger priorities to worry about, like, oh, remember how we are here to follow a fucking plan to betray and fight every single person we are training with daily? yeah and of whom we killed most families as well!” he snaps, finally looking at you, all angered.
“ironic to hear coming from you, given that you weren´t supposed to be here,” you scoff. “stop acting like everyone’s dad like you didn´t probably kill most of those. and i´m very aware that we have to keep a cold mind, you fuck, i wasn´t throwing myself into a relationship. i just wanted to have some fun. i mean we´re staying here for years, after all,” you try to reason with him. “and you basically told warren that i was a freak, why thank you man, for being such a mood lighter,” you elevate your tone in the end, trying to get the worst of him.
he stays silent for a moment before he speaks. “in all fairness you´re a freak, that’s no news to anyone really.”
now he was truly getting on your nerves, but you still tried to keep your cool. “awesome, that makes two of us, now can you stop minding my business? we talked already about pretending to not know each other for the sake of the mission so, you could at least follow orders if you´re that bad at behaving like a normal human being?”
“it´s equally damaging for the mission to get into relationships with fucking eldians, y/n. even for as long as i´ve hated you, i never thought you to be this reckless, i have to admit.” woah, he was roasting you in your face now.
“oh really? this is about the mission now? am i supposed to ignore the grudge you´ve been holding onto for years and act like i´m simply misbehaving before your eyes here?”
“any sort of romance is not suitable at the moment, y/n, that´s all i´m saying. stop bringing the past into this-“ he says as he tries to get back to the odm gear.
“the past is all we are, reiner. or do you expect us to become this fake persona we´re all playing here? this is our arena, braun, don´t forget that, no matter how much you love being everyone’s untouchable crush. may i remind you that you weren´t even supposed to be here in the first place-“
and with that, he´s stepping closer to you, voice raised. “sure, because you´d loooove it if porco was here. then you wouldn’t need to hunt anyone down to bone,” he snaps, annoyed yet visibly restraining himself from saying more.
“porco and i are friends, you pig,” you correct him, and that leads the both of you to a long pause. “what about annie and bertholdt then?” you speak confidently, crossing your arms before your chest.
he looks up at you. “what?” his face is a mixture of fed up and confused, and you scoff in disbelief.
“reiner they´re literally fucking behind our backs, you can´t not have seen it yet.”
he looks completely baffled at the accusations. “wait, what? did annie tell you this?” his tone is purely genuine, which makes you laugh in his face.
“did annie tell me?” you mock him. “have you even tried to look at them for more than a minute straight? they always have that let´s sneak out look in their eyes.” you roll your eyes. "i get it you´re blind to human emotion, wasn´t expecting any less from you".
“screw you, y/n!” he finally scrunches his shocked expression and throws an arm in the air in your direction.
“no, screw you!” you begin shoving each other until he pushes you hard enough that you fall onto the ground. yet, you chuckle. “i didn´t know you had that in you, back home you always lacked last.”
“that would be your own damn fault for underestimating me, you brat,” he spat as he attempts to help you up, only to let you fall down again.
“okay you´re acting like a child now, very mature of you,” you try to play it cool as you get up on your own. “this is ridiculous,” you go on. “just stop talking about me to other people, like completely.”
“not if you don´t stay away from alec i won´t. he´s my friend,” he defends.
“so? am i stealing your man or something?” you vexed him again.
“i don´t want to hear of you from him, that´s all. it´s disgusting.” he states. you look at him, unsurprised. you two never got along, so it makes sense he thinks that, you would probably be like that too. “go for sylvan, i heard he´s into crazy chicks,” he shrugs off in a poisonous tone, to what you furrow your brow and tackle him down hard to the ground, trying to suppress a smirk at his undeniably funny comment on your love life. and just like you assume it would happen due to his latest overpowered strength in comparison to yours, he tackled you back, having you now pinned to the ground. “is this really necessary?” he says monotonously, unsurprised as well.
your whole demeanor has changed now. you had to admit to yourself that you missed your bickering, and at the end of the day, a familiar face. it had been long since annie and bertholdt spoke normally to you, and arguing with reiner was suddenly more fun than you ever remembered it to be. “what about your type, braun?” you tease, willing to know how far he´s letting you take the stupidity of it all. “do you like crazy girls?” at this point you couldn’t hide you smile of amusement anymore, letting it show shamelessly.
“i happen to tolerate some of them, to my own dismay,” he grits his teeth. there is a strange tension that fills the air the moment those words leave his mouth.
“you tolerate me now?” you grin wolfishly.
“merely following orders.” his expression still hasn´t changed from the poker blank stare.
“wow, the regiment truly is making a bold soldier out of you. last year you would have folded the minute i asked, i´m sure,” you kept teasing like there has no boundaries or limits between you two.
“last year you wouldn´t be caught dead pinned down to the floor by reiner braun, and yet, here you are. i fear you really are going crazy, y/n, “he feigned an expression of pure concern.
“tch, you love that,” you smirk, half closing your eyes as if you were sedated.
it´s now his time to scoff at you. at your voice, at your attitude, at your sudden need to prove something he very well knows will end in him being made fun of, same as always. “i hate you.”
“yeah…” you whisper, beginning to trail the nape of his neck with your fingers. your smile is sleepy now.
“what are you doing?” he snaps, seemingly bothered.
you furrow your brows, barely attempting to hide a genuine smile. “what do you mean-“
“will you stop trying to get a reaction out of me?” you can literally see his tough façade crumble down, painfully slowly.
“no.” you snicker softly, you were so close to each other by now. “am i… getting a reaction?” you arch your back slowly, but he notices the minute your eyes flash a mischievous sparkle.
“no.” his sham is glass by now and his eyes were practically yelling at you that if you went on with the play, you´d probably see stars tonight.
“prove it,” you simply whispered in a daring tone, switching to look directly at his lips.
with the soft grip in your left hand he still had, you could tell right away that it was marley´s reiner that you had in your arms right now, and not the tall hunk, ridiculously acting like everyone´s best friend´s older brother around camp. still, there was something different in the way he looked back at your lips. you were somehow still drawn to that same whiny boy you hated.
he started to lean in as well, nothing short than rushed.
“i thought you two hated each other.”
annie´s voice echoes all around the room, and both reiner and you, stunned and tripping over each other, quickly pull apart facing away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing your startled expressions. when you finally looked over, she was picking up some apples from a basket in the table.
“well we do, annie.” reiner, answered, serious as ever, clearing his throat quietly.
“oh okay, i must´ve misunderstood the desperate grinding then,” she commented, unfazed, as she walked away, exiting the room once again, “it even smells like sex, already,” she added as she took a bite of the apple. annie leonhart, everybody.
that left you and reiner alone in the dark again, standing awkwardly next to each other.
“i do hate you,” he repeats.
“yeah- yeah,” you scoff, furrowing your brow, “me too.” convincing as ever, you mentally scolded yourself.
it wasn´t long before he blandly shoved your shoulder one last time with one arm, then turned around and started leaving. “crazy fucking girl,” he murmured loud enough for you to hear as he kept walking away from you.
that alone leaves you smirking softly to yourself and flushed to no end for a moment, before you collect yourself and process what just happened between you...
and fucking reiner braun?!
#aot#aot x reader#reiner braun#reiner x reader#reiner braun x reader#annie leonhart#aot fanfiction#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan
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You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)
Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott, f!reader
Summary: You and Rhett have a unique friendship. Every time you go out with a group, you end up getting drunk, dancing, and making out with him only to then wind up going home with other people. But what happens when Rhett asks you to dance before either of you has had a drink....
Word Count: 3744
TW: Fluff, Kissing, Love Confession, Drinking, Mentions of drunk making out, Mentions of drunk dancing, Language
Notes: For @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special based on "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This" by Toby Keith (RIP 😔💗)
Despite the relatively early hour, the bar was busier than usual even for a Saturday night. You had forgotten there was some big sports thing that weekend the next town over so the overabundance of unfamiliar faces blending into the sea of regulars was a bit of a shock when you first arrived with your friends but—miraculously—the six of you managed to stake your claim on a table not too far from where you usually sat.
However, you had struggled to squeeze through the crowd and since everyone else was already sitting when you finally caught up, it was unanimously decided you should fight your way back up to the bar to get the first round of drinks. You put up a brief mock protest before surrendering to the peer pressure, but secretly, you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to scope out the space and see if any of the out-of-towners caught your eye. Your town wasn’t small per se, but even in a medium-sized pond, there were only so many fish. So when there was a chance at some fresh blood, why not take advantage?
What seemed like an eternity later, you pushed your way back to your friends and practically threw the beers onto the table before collapsing into the booth. While you had enjoyed watching all the new potential hookups around you, you had also been relentlessly jostled, had beer spilled on your boots, and had three separate guys grab your ass before claiming it was an “accident” due to the crowd. And all just to get a crappy $7 beer. Ridiculous.
As you took your first drink, you finally realized only five people were sitting around the table instead of six. Nudging Parker who was sitting next to you, you leaned over and shouted above the music, “Where’d Rhett go?”
She shrugged dismissively, her attention locked on some douchy-looking frat bro eye-fucking her from a few tables away. “I don’t know. He said something about going to help you with the drinks or something.”
“Well, I never saw him.”
“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”
Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”
She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you.
You caught Alec’s eye over the top of Parker’s head and you both tried to suppress a chuckle. Parker infamously made the worst choices when it came to men and she only dug her claws in deeper when any of you tried to talk her out of them, so it was better to just let her do whatever she was going to do and help her deal with the consequences afterward.
Relaxing back in your seat, you took another long drink from your beer. It was now almost half empty and just the thought of wading back through the crowd for another one made you internally groan. Though you could probably convince Alec to go since you got the first round but that would involv–
Your internal conversation was cut off as you spotted Rhett pushing his way through the crowd towards the table. Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Oh, there you are. I thought you might have gotten trampled by the mob of people or something. Your beer’s getting war–”
“Come dance with me.”
You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table.
It was a given at this point that by the end of the night, you and Rhett would end up hammered, uninhibited, and viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. It’s what happened every time you went to the bar: You’d both drink, you’d both dance together, you’d both get all hot and bothered, and you’d both find someone else to take you home for the night. It was a strange system but it worked. Parker once joked that you were each other’s fluffers, just getting things ready for your real targets for the night. And while you would prefer to phrase it somewhat more tastefully, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Plus, you had found that a lot of guys (and girls in Rhett’s case) loved watching you making out with someone else, rubbing your body all over theirs, just for you to go home with them instead. It seemed as if the two of you weren’t the only ones getting fluffed in this situation.
However, neither you nor Rhett ever stepped foot on the dance floor until you’d finished at least three or four beers. He was fairly shy and reserved when sober and you both were very self-conscious of your dancing before getting at least slightly buzzed. Yet you were currently only halfway through beer number one and his first beer still sat unopened on the table next to you. Rhett might have pre-gamed on his own before you, Tara, and Spencer picked him up, but he seemed completely sober so you couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.
“I–but we–I mean…”
Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”
“Bu-but what about our drinks?”
“I’m sure Parker—” he took one glance at your friend sitting next to you still making “do-me” eyes at the frat boy and corrected his statement “—Tara wouldn’t mind keepin’ an eye on ‘em.”
“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”
“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.
Tara elbowed her boyfriend with a scowl before turning back to you and gesturing for you to go. Still confused about the change in your routine, you took Rhett’s hand and let him help you to your feet. As he led you towards the dance floor, you turned your head just in time to see Tara and Spencer laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of you leave. Then Spencer reached for Rhett’s beer but Tara slapped his hand away.
You knew your friends didn’t understand this weird arrangement you and Rhett had fallen into—hell, it barely made sense to you. They were all convinced as they watched you week after week that the two of you were falling in love. They never believed you’re just friends having a little drunken fun.
Not that you hadn’t ever considered Rhett as a potential love connection. The first night you met him, that was where you thought things were headed. He had finally had enough of his toxic home life back in Wyoming and was looking for a fresh start somewhere new. So when a contact from his time bull-riding who lived in town offered him a job, he jumped at the opportunity.
You met him a few days later in this very bar when you saw him sitting all alone in the back corner. Of course, you noticed his classic-cowboy good looks, but what really caught your eye was how nervous and shy he seemed, his eyes mostly trained on the beer in front of him except when they occasionally shifted around the bar uncertainly. It wasn’t as if he were scared of someone seeing him or that he was on the run from something. No. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who wasn’t sure of where to sit at lunch.
So, you had gone and sat down at his table with two beers and a friendly smile. It took quite a bit of patience and coaxing, but Rhett eventually began to open up to you. Then, just as you were going to make the move to his side of the booth, your friends found you and asked for an introduction. By the end of the night, Rhett had slipped naturally into the gang and it felt weird pursuing him in any romantic way after that. After all, you could see how much he needed a support system in this new town and you didn’t want to take that from him for a one-night fling.
Which was why when you found yourselves sloppily making out in the middle of the dance floor a few weeks later and he just brushed it off like it was nothing, you didn’t push it or question it. And when it happened again, and again, and again, it just felt like a routine or a tradition and you never looked deeper into it.
But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.
Once you reached the dance floor, Rhett pulled you in close and the two of you began to dance. There were so many people around you that you couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, but since you usually just rubbed against each other while making out, it shouldn’t have been an issue. However, without the usual buzz from the drinks, you were way too in your head about every move you made. Your usual fluid, natural movements felt stiff and robotic, and all you could think about was where Rhett’s hands were or what part of him was pressed against you at any given time. It was a disaster.
The song ended and a soft, melodic tune began to play. Slow songs were pretty rare but they were always the perfect opportunity for another drink, and boy did you need one. You turned to brave the crowd around the bar once more, however, Rhett’s fingers slipped into yours and he spun you back into his arms.
A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.”
“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”
“Tonight we do.” He must have seen the hesitation still on your face because he squeezed your hand. “Come on. You can tough it out for one song, then they’ll play somethin’ fast we can move to and you’ll get into the flow of it. Otherwise, you’ll just be waitin’ in that line for the rest of the night.”
Even pressed against him and over the softer melody of the slow music, the deep timbre of his voice was still difficult to hear but you knew he was right. By the time you made it through the crowd of people to reach the bar for another drink, many upbeat songs would have passed and there was a good chance you’d be ticked off by your waiting experience just like the first time. Instead, you could just stick it out here with Rhett and you’d be back to your usual dancing in mere minutes. And he was probably right. Given a few more songs, you’d probably figure out this sober dancing thing and actually enjoy yourself. So, somewhat reluctantly, you nodded to signal you’d stay.
Apparently, many of the people around you had the same thought you originally did because the crowds around you began to thin out giving you and Rhett a little more room to maneuver. The two of you were swaying together slowly and you have to admit it’s a nice change from your usual high-energy grinding.
Then as the music began to swell, he surprised you by spinning you out and when you twirled back into him, Rhett placed his hand on the center of your back and pulled you tight until you were pressed firmly against his chest. You looked up–unsure of what he was doing–just as his other hand brushed across your cheek to settle on the nape of your neck. One of the colored lights flashed across his face, illuminating the intensity deep within his eyes as he stared at you, and you felt your heart skip a beat as time seemed to freeze around you.
But that was silly. This was Rhett. You shouldn’t feel this fluttering in your chest or tingling where his skin brushed yours. He was your good friend, someone you had made out with every week and barely gave it a second thought. So why was there this different feel about him tonight? Why couldn't you take your eyes off his lips, why was your head spinning, and why were your knees growing weak? And why didn’t you want it to stop?
Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.
Electricity shot right through you as every nerve in your body seemed to light up at once. It felt like you had just jammed a fork into an electrical socket but in the best of ways. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared with Rhett—with anyone—before. Usually, your kisses with Rhett were drunken, and sloppy, and uncoordinated. But this…Rhett was as sober as you ever see him, and every curl of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it all felt so fluid, almost choreographed. As if he had planned for this moment for ages.
Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace. You could no longer tell if you were standing still or spinning around and around and around as a dizzying fog enveloped your mind. For a few seconds, you didn’t even know where you were at. All that existed was you and Rhett and the kiss.
But then you shifted, the top of your head bumping into the brim of his hat almost knocking it off, and the spell was broken. Rhett pulled away, fixing his hat, and leaving you clinging to him for support as the world came rushing back to you. The slow song was still playing and crowds of people around you still occasionally bumped into you as they danced, And yet, from the moment Rhett’s lips touched yours, everything had changed.
But had he felt it too?
With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”
“An’ why’s that?”
“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just gave you that same intense stare he had just before the kiss and you felt your heart begin to speed up once more. Then, in a voice you could only just make out over the music, he asked, “What if that’s the point? What if I’m tired of waitin’ for her to figure out how I feel?”
All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”
“No…No…” Before you could process what he was saying, he shook his head and stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he released his hold on you. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m doin’ this all wrong. But I couldn’t take another week of you wrapped in my arms, your lips on mine, just to then watch you go home with someone else. I just…I just wanted you to know. ‘m sorry.”
He started to hurry off the dance floor but this time it was your turn to grab his arm to stop him from leaving. His eyes flickered up to yours and you saw that all the confidence and certainty that had been there before had been extinguished, leaving only fear behind. You knew it was the same fear you were feeling right now: fear of this changing everything; fear of this ruining your friendship; fear of what came next.
Sliding your hand into his and linking your fingers, you muttered, “Come here” before leading him off the dance floor and back towards the rear of the building. There was a separate concert area back there that they only opened for shows so you knew it was one of the few places in the bar that would give you some semblance of privacy.
Once there, you ducked into the empty space and shut the door. You could still feel the vibrations from the music and hear the dull thumping, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been before. In here, at least you and Rhett wouldn’t need to shout to be heard.
Now that you were alone, neither one of you seemed to know what to say or how to start. You both shifted slightly as you glanced at each other. Finally, Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Listen, can we just forget any of that happened? I don’t want things to be weird between us and ‘m sorry if—”
“No, I’m sorry,” you said, cutting him off. “I was just a little surprised by that kiss and what I said didn’t come out right. But what I should have said, what I meant to say—” you stepped forward until you were brushing up against him, placing your hands on his chest. “—was ‘you shouldn’t kiss me like this…unless you mean it like that’.”
Rhett’s long eyelashes fluttered several times in quick succession and you saw his Adam’s apple bob wildly out of the corner of your eye. Licking his lips, he hesitated for another moment then asked, “And if I do? If I–If I mean it like that?”
Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”
The moment that his lips touched yours, the world once again fell away. If anything, now that you were returning his kiss with the same tenderness and enthusiasm, it was even more intoxicating than the kiss on the dance floor and you never wanted it to end.
Both of Rhett’s large, calloused hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone. He used this leverage to drive you back a few steps and you soon felt your back bump against the wall. He pressed closer, sandwiching you between the cold, rough concrete and his warm, firm body. Another spark of electricity shot through you and you wondered if he felt it too as you felt the growing bulge in his pants jerk against your hip.
Through the haze of the kiss, you briefly considered how far you should let this go. A small part of you wanted to undo his belt right this second and drop to your knees before him, or to slide down your jeans and let him pound into you against this wall. After all, the two of you were still alone and no one would see you. However, the bigger part of you knew no matter how amazing you felt at this moment, this was all very new and you shouldn’t rush things. You and Rhett still needed to figure out what this meant for the two of you moving forward, and adding sex right now would just make things even more complicated.
Rhett must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted his hips so they were no longer pressed against you. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips off of yours. His hands slid off your face onto the wall behind you, one braced on either side of your head as both of you stared at one another panting as you tried to catch your breath. All you could do was look at Rhett’s lips and imagine them pressed against yours once more. And from how he stared at you, a hunger pulsing in his blue eyes, you felt he was thinking the same thing.
“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.
“I wanted to since that first night we met. When I saw how kind, and funny, and incredible you were, I was smitten. But then the rest of the gang showed up and for the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. I was afraid makin’ a move on you would ruin all a that and I figured havin’ you as a friend was better than not havin’ you in my life at all. For a while, I settled for our dances and kisses, but I finally realized I didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. So, I took a chance.”
“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”
Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”
Rhett’s cheeks grew red in the dim light but he nodded as he let his hands fall from the wall behind you. Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder. “Um, I guess we should probably get back before we get in trouble for bein’ back here.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara’s sent Spencer out to find us yet.” You pushed off the wall, but as Rhett started to open the door, you stopped him. “Rhett…what happens now? Where do we go from here?”
He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.
Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…
You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”
“Damn, sweetheart, looks like it was made for you,” Rhett’s voice was thicker than normal as he stared at you. “I shouldda given it to you the night we met, as soon as you sat down at my table with that smile and a beer.”
Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”
“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”
Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch
#sfw repost#fic#leahsgalentinesdayspecial#rhett abbott#rhett abbott x reader#rhett abbott x you#rhett abbott imagine#rhett abbott outer range#outer range#lewis pullman#fluff#love confessions#kissing#language tw#drinking tw#drunk behavior tw
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Something else about Alec—when we first see him on the field, he’s remarkably less intimidating than the other Undersiders, with a costume much less fear-inspiring and more straight-up gimmicky. I’ve talked about the Undersider’s costumes before, but one of the subtler differences between Worm and more “traditional” superhero media is how the villains’ costumes and personas often don’t have the same level of camp to them that comic villains do. There’s much more focus on practicality, where the only thing that matters aesthetically about a costume is that it communicates “don’t fuck with me.” Every hero in worm has a detailed, practical-yet-aesthetically-pleasing costume, but you run into villain capes with no costume or only the bare bones of one all the time. Rachel’s dressed like a horror movie slasher, Brian doesn’t bother with more ornamentation than an intimidating helmet. Lisa looks the part of your Saturday-morning villain, but she’s more invested in doing that than most because her cops-and-robbers theory—plus, when she’s in action she’s nearly always the scariest person in the room. And Lung, the first supervillain we meet, doesn’t have a costume at all, just a commanding presence. In contrast, the next set of villains Taylor meets, Uber and Leet, are established as losers no one takes seriously partially through having costumes that are just gimmicky. Early worm establishes that the successful villains in this setting are focused on being scary before anything else. Considering the extend Taylor internalizes the “be feared or die” strategy as the story goes on, it’s important for Worm to set that dynamic up quickly at the beginning, even if later characters break this rule*.
But early Regent doesn’t care about being scary. He struts into the battlefield like he’s Gorgeous George**, complete with a costume that wouldn’t look out of place in professional wrestling. He spends less time trying to act intimidating when fighting people and more time trying to get people to forget he’s there until he can steal their cool canon. He’s not trying to scare heroes or rival villains off like the others are, and that’s largely because he didn’t create the Regent persona to scare away people and make crime easier—he made the Regent persona to have a life away from his horrible family. It’s an early indication that Alec’s motivation for being here are not the same as everyone else’s—the other Undersiders are criminals for a living, and are using their personas as tools for their job. Alec is in this to have a good time in a way he didn’t get to in his old life, and is using his Regent persona as a form of play.
*for the later successful villains who DO care a lot about aesthetics, such as Accord or Trickster, their motivation for bucking the trend tend to says a lot about them. But that’s a different post.
**now I have the image stuck in my head of Alec coming to an important villain meeting in an evening gown, puppeting his henchmen to spread a carpet of rose petals ahead of him. Fuck he’d love doing that. The real tragedy of the Behemoth fight is that it robbed us of Aisha and Alec forming the best tag-team heel duo the wrestling world has ever seen.
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