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upsidedownwithsteve · 7 months

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear.

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls.

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink.

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings.

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess.

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly.

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired.

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned.

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm.

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was always someone else.

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run.

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up.

Him. You loved him.

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like.

“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose.

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights.

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint.

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back.

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath.

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed.

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day.

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat.

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion.

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived.

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open.

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting.

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red.

But this new gladiator, he was fast.

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already.

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did.

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again.

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed.

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned.

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before.

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder.

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too.

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees.

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it.

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure.

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly.

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might.

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat.

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before.

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to.

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face.

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion.

A man you were sure you already loved.

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember.

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet.

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more.

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward.

Telling you to go.

So you did.

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter—

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor.

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing.

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing.

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched.

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals.

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken.

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair.

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder.

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him.

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back.

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth.

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag.

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay.

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew.

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder.

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water.

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed.

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics.

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer.

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above.

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation.

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face.

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer.

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods.

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world.

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above.

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you.

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere.

Thunder rumbled, threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger.

That you knew something bad was coming.

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real.

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was.

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare.

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say.

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together.

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer.

You didn’t want to let him go.

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”

It happened too quick. Too fast.

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic.

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both.

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side.

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists.

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you.

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps.

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair.

Steve was gone and the thunder was too.

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mxltifxnd0m · 3 months

Text

beach confessions 𓍼 i. lahey

summary: a beach day with the pack

pairings: isaac lahey x reader, isaac lahey x fem! reader

word count: 5.5K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', an au where allison didn't die or where she and isaac were a thing, tooth-rotting fluff, some swearing, mutual pining, suggestive content, kissing

a/n: it kinda seems that the teen wolf fandom is a little dead, and the isaac lahey fandom is even deader, which is sad bc who doesn't love isaac lahey, but I'm posting this regardless bc I worked hard on it

but if isaac lahey has no fans, it means i'm dead

please reblog and comment! i love to see what you guys say ;))

𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘢𝘤 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Salt air filled your lungs as you climbed out of Lydia's car. The two-hour drive with Allison and Lydia was filled with singing, gossiping, and laughing. Lydia was ahead of Stiles's blue Jeep as they drove along the highway to the coast. Even when driving, Lydia led most of the conversations, never letting the car be left in a dull silence.

Summer had finally arrived, and school had finally come to an end. It was a long school year with supernatural threats looming over the pack almost every month. Summer break was a reprieve from the constant dangers that Beacon Hills seemed to attract.

The six of you, Scott, Stiles, you, Allison, Lydia, and Isaac, decided to head down to the beach to cool down from the blistering heat wave that struck your hometown earlier that week. As much as you loved Lydia's pool, you craved to be by the beach, wanting to feel the ocean breeze through your hair, the sun kissing your skin, and feel the coolness of the water wash over your body as you dived under a wave. The sand was the only part of the beach that you never enjoyed, having found it in places where it was unwanted. Still, you could overlook the sand and bask in the beauty of the beach and what it had to offer.

You remember a time before your world had turned upside down by the mere existence of the supernatural, that every summer, you and your family would go down by a spot on the beach that your mom and dad had discovered back when they were dating and spend the entire day there, splashing around the water, building sandcastles, or seeing who could ride the biggest wave on their boogie board with your siblings and cousins until your dads had to carry you on their backs because you were exhausted from the day.

So you decided to plan out this day with the help of Lydia, and it took little to no convincing to get everyone on board with the idea of a day at the beach. You would have driven to the spot since you knew where it was, but your parents had taken your car for a road trip they were doing with the rest of your family. You opted to stay home with your friends and told your parents that you would join them next year.

But now it led you to the beach, and you could hear the ocean calling your name as you helped Lydia and Allison unpack the car. Yesterday, the three of you spent the day shopping for snacks and supplies that you didn't already have. You stuck all of the heavy stuff, like the chairs and canopy tent, in the back of Stiles's Jeep while the drinks and snacks were in Lydia's Prius.

The boys were parked right next to you guys, and they were also unpacking their car very loudly, you may add, with Stiles complaining about how heavy some of the stuff you guys brought was.

You rolled your eyes at Stiles's whining, but you knew it was because he was stuck driving his Jeep for two hours straight (even though he didn't allow anyone else to drive it besides himself).

You turned to the boys with an amused smirk on your face. "Suck it up Stilinski. You won't be complaining once you get into the water."

Stiles scoffed and grumbled to himself, Isaac and Scott stifling their laughs at his words, being able to hear his words loud and clear because of their enhanced hearing.

Your eyes shot to Isaac, hearing his poor attempt at concealing his laughter. You felt something in your chest flutter as you saw amusement glint brightly in his eyes, which seemed to shift between shades of blue according to his mood. Right now, they match the color of the clear blue sky. Isaac must have felt your gaze on him since he made eye contact with you and winked at you.

You rolled your eyes at him to hide the fact that you were staring at him. You looked at your friends, their arms filled with various items you guys had taken from the car, and nodded.

"Let's get this show on the road!" You said, smiling, and started to walk away from the cars and down to the beach. The rest of your friends trailed behind you since you were the one who knew where the spot was. You walked for a couple of minutes until you made it to a flight of stairs.

Lydia called your name out. "You didn't mention there were stairs?" Her voice was tight with slight apprehension.

You looked back at her with pursed lips. "I didn't?" You asked with a cocked head.

The rest of the pack shook their heads. It was comical how their heads nodded in synchronicity. At that, you had to press your lips together to suppress the chuckles threatening to escape your mouth.

You hummed. "I could've sworn I told you there was some to get down to the beach."

"Well you didn't." Stiles said.

"It's only a flight of stairs."

"Oh."

"'Oh.' is correct, Stiles. But I do have to warn you guys that the stairs are steep. Now enough chit-chat, it's supposed to get hotter and the water is calling my name." You said before heading down the stairs that led down to the sandy beach.

It didn't take long to find a spot to set up camp since the beach was pretty vacant, with a few people and a family occupying the beach. You picked a place close to the stairs since the odds of someone (one of the boys) forgetting something in one of the cars were pretty high. But you also chose to set up near a fire pit, having made Stiles pick up some firewood before you left the beach.

Once you had set down your stuff, everyone else followed suit, setting down the snacks, chairs, and the canopy tent that you now had to set up. With some fumbling and Stiles not listening to your directions, all six of you were able to set up the tent for shade and set up the four beach chairs you had brought.

You all had agreed that you guys would trade off the chairs and sit down on an outside blanket that you had brought, as well as your towels. The boys were eager to jump into the water after stripping themselves of their shirts, but you quickly stopped them.

You waved the sunblock you brought in the air. "Nuh-uh. You guys need to put on sunblock because I don't want to hear groans of pain when you guys get sunburnt." You pointedly looked at Stiles and Isaac since they were the palest of the boys (you don't think Scott would burn; if anything, he'd probably just get tanner).

They reluctantly agreed, and Scott took the sunscreen from your hand. Lydia had also brought her own and began to lather herself in sunblock. You let the sunblock be passed around to everyone first while you set up the cooler and organized the snacks.

When you were done organizing the snacks, you pulled off the white collar shirt that was acting as your beach cover-up and jean shorts. You crouched down and looked through the bag that was on the blanket for your hair ties to put up your hair. A tap on your shoulder got your attention, making you look up from your bag. You turned around to see Isaac holding the bottle of sunblock, looking a little sheepish.

"Could you do my back?" Isaac asked. You caught his gaze roaming your body before his eyes darted up to meet your own.

You looked around to see that Scott and Stiles were running toward the water, with Allison and Lydia following their lead but walking instead of sprinting behind them. You raised an eyebrow at the sight of Lydia walking towards the water.

Huh, I thought Lydia would have wanted to stay and tan first. You thought to yourself before looking back at Isaac.

"Yeah, let me grab my hair ties real quick." You sent Isaac a quick smile before turning back to your bag and pulling two black hair ties. You rolled them on your wrist before Isaac handed you the sunblock. Isaac just stared at you expectantly as you uncapped the sunblock.

"Hey wolfy, I'm gonna need you to turn around if you don't want a bad sunburn on your back." You quipped as you gestured for him to turn around with your finger.

Isaac rolled his eyes at your nickname for him, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up, and he turned around to face the water. You put some sunblock in the palm of your hand before closing it and tossing it on a nearby chair. You stepped closer to Isaac as you rubbed the sunblock on your palms, warming it up before starting to rub it into his skin.

You saw some of the muscles in his back twitch when you placed your hands on his back, beginning to rub in the sunblock. You've never seen Isaac shirtless before, and it was hard not to keep your eyes from roaming his back as your hands trailed over his broad shoulders and back.

You could feel some of the muscles he had gotten from lacrosse. You were close enough to see the freckles that were spattered about his back. You were tempted to trail your fingers over them, connecting them with an invisible line that was drawn from the tips of your fingers.

You cleared your throat before ripping your hands from Isaac's warm skin and stepping back from him.

"All done." You managed to say without choking on your spit.

Isaac turned around and sent you a thankful smile. The sight of his smile made your heart flutter.

"Uh, did you want me to do you?" With his words, you choked on your spit. You had a coughing fit, trying to clear your throat.

"Umm, what?" You asked him once you calmed down.

Isaac's eyes went wide with realization. "Oh god, I didn't mean it like that. I-I meant did you want me to do your back? Like with the sunblock?"

You blinked at him before nodding. "Yeah, if you could that would be appreciated." You sent him an awkward smile.

Isaac mirrored your smile and grabbed the sunblock from the chair you had tossed it on, and you turned around. You pulled your hair up to get it out of the way. You heard Isaac open the sunblock, and you jumped at the feeling of the cold sunblock on Isaac's hands.

You felt him pull away. "Sorry." He said.

"S'fine. It was colder than I expected it to be." You shot him a reassuring smile over your shoulder.

Then you felt his hands on your back, beginning to rub the sunblock into your skin. You tried not to shiver at the feeling of his warm hands going up and down your back. You could tell Isaac was trying to be respectful and avoiding the straps of the halter bikini top you were wearing.

"Hey, Isaac." You called to him. He hummed in response.

"You're gonna have to put the sunblock underneath my bikini straps."

"Oh, I wasn't sure if I could."

You chuckled at his hesitance. "You're fine, Isaac."

With your permission, his hand slid under the straps, and you felt goosebumps on your arms at his gentle touch. Issac's hands seemed to linger on your back before you felt them pull away as he stepped back.

"Thanks Isaac." You told him as you turned around and shot him a smile.

He nodded. "No problem." Isaac shoved his hands in his pockets as you pulled your hair out of the bun and began to part it down in the middle and start braiding the two sections. It would be a little complicated to French braid without a mirror, but you could do it.

You saw a confused look on Isaac's face as you began to braid the left side of your hair and moved to sit down on a chair.

"I'm braiding my hair before I put on sunblock so I don't get it in my hair." You offered an explanation, and his face morphed into one of understanding.

"You can go and enjoy the water, I'll meet you guys out there." You jerked your chin out to the water as best as you were halfway done with your braid.

"Nah, it's fine I can wait," Isaac said in a nonchalant tone as he moved to sit in the chair right next to you.

You were done with your first braid and moving on to the second one when you raised your eyebrow at him. "Okay then... how was being stuck in a car with Stiles?"

You heard Isaac huff loudly. "If Scott wasn't there, I would have found a way for us to crash."

You couldn't help it, and a loud laugh escaped your lips.

It's no secret that Isaac and Stiles have a frenemy dynamic with one another. Stiles's sarcasm had finally met its match with Isaac's sass and dry sense of humor, and it was amusing to see them snap back at each other. At first, there was animosity between them. But after everything that had happened in Beacon and being forced to work together, they grew to like each other (even if they wouldn't admit it). Now, there wasn't any venom behind their words, and they did it to annoy each other.

"I don't think it was that bad." You said once you calmed down from laughing. You finished your braid and tied it off.

"You try sitting in the car with Stiles rambling for almost two hours straight." Isaac scoffed.

"I have. I've learned how to tune Stiles out when he gets into a talkative mood. You learn how to soon enough my dear Padawan." You sent him a wide grin as you grabbed the sunblock and began to put it on your arms and legs.

You saw out of the corner of your eye that Isaac mouthed out the word 'padawan' with furrowed brows. You rolled your eyes at him.

"I have to get you to watch Star Wars so you can understand my references."

"Over my dead body."

You were done with lathering your body in sunblock, so you got up from the chair and stood in front of Isaac. You leaned down in front of him, resting your hands on the armrests, a sly smile on your face. Isaac's eyes flickered down to your chest before they roamed your face.

"Fine, how about a little wager then?" Isaac's blue eyes met yours, his eyebrow raised in wonder at your words.

"I'm listening." He said with a growing smile as he leaned closer to you. You tried not to let Isaac's closeness affect you as you swallowed thickly.

"Who ever gets to the water first, gets to pick the movies to watch for the next movie night." You proposed.

When Isaac first became a werewolf, neither of you knew each other well or got off on the right foot at first (you may have stabbed him in the leg with your pocket knife when he broke into Scott's house to try and kill Lydia). But when he started to be a part of the pack, he would reluctantly get rides from you. You apologized to him one day when you were taking him to Scott's house after school, and from there, your friendship grew.

Both of you seemed to be drawn to one another, and you have no clue how it started, but the two of you had movie nights to try to distract your minds from school or the next potential threat to Beacon Hills. These were the nights that you looked forward to since it was just the two of you in your living room watching these movies, and sometimes you guys would talk through a movie if it was boring. This was also the moment where you realized that you had liked Isaac.

The realization hit you like a truck, and ever since that day, you have felt like you didn't know how to act around him, but you have tried to act as normal as you could around him. Luckily, Isaac didn't seem to catch on to the change in behavior from you. But the girls and Scott noticed (curse his werewolf senses) that you liked Isaac, but you made them swear they wouldn't say anything to him.

Isaac smirked. "Deal. You ready to lose?"

Your smile slowly grew. "I'm so not sorry for what I'm about to do."

"What?"

You pushed the chair backward by the arms of the chair, causing Isaac to topple backward in the chair and hit the ground. You laughed at Isaac's pained groan and quickly sprinted away from him and towards the water. You heard Isaac shout after you, and you risked a glance over your shoulder to see Isaac sprinting.

You pumped your legs faster, but it was difficult to run through the sand. You noticed as you ran towards the water that Stiles and Scott were engaged in a splash war while Allison and Lydia were in the water until it hit their thighs. They had yet to be fully submerged as the waves were pretty calm at the moment.

You made it to the water first and turned around to see Isaac slowing down and walking down to where you were on the shoreline. You sent Isaac a cheeky grin, doing a little victory dance as he approached.

"You cheated." He said, a slight pout on his face as he caught his breath.

"You're a werewolf. You had an advantage. I just evened the playing field." You said while shrugging.

Isaac rolled his eyes, but a smile began to grow on his face. "Then, I'm so not sorry what I'm about to do." He parroted the words that you said earlier to him.

"Isaac. No." You said warningly as you narrowed your eyes at him, backing away from him slowly.

Isaac sent you a wolfish grin before he quickly grabbed your waist and hoisted you up on his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You let out a shriek of surprise as your world turned upside down, as you found yourself staring at Isaac's navy-blue swim trunk-covered ass.

It's not a bad sight, though. You thought to yourself before you realized Isaac had walked further into the water.

"Isaac! Put me down!" You exclaimed as you slapped at his back, the skin turning red as you did.

"What was that sweetheart?" The nickname made your face warm, but you scowled as he pretended not to hear you.

"I swear to God, Isaac! Put me down!" At this point, Isaac was about hip-deep in the water.

"Put you down? Okay, whatever you want, sweetheart." You could hear the smug smirk that was on Isaac's stupidly attractive face. Before you could respond, he threw you off of his shoulder and into the ocean.

The cold water was a shock to your senses as you were enveloped by the salty water. You quickly regained your bearings and stood up in the water. You wiped away the water that clung to your eyelashes and glared daggers at Isaac as he clutched his stomach, laughing his ass off at you. But you couldn't help but smile at the sound of his laugh, your chest warming at the sight of Isaac's flushed cheeks as he calmed down from his laughing fit.

"You're in for it now, Lahey." You growled playfully before splashing water at him. He flinched at the sudden feeling of being sprayed with the cold water.

"You're on." Isaac smirked before you guys had your own splash war.

While you were messing with Isaac, you didn't see the matching smirks that Allison and Lydia were sporting as they saw you play around with Isaac.

"How long do you think it's going to take for them to admit their feelings to each other?" Allison asked Lydia.

Lydia hummed before responding. "I have a feeling it's going to be soon."

Scott and Stiles somehow made their way over to where you and Isaac were playing, and it became a battle between Scott and Stiles and you and Isaac. You guys obviously won after a couple of minutes of nonstop spraying water at one another.

"Allison, Lydia!" Scott called to them and waved them over. "Let's play chicken!"

"I call Scott!" Stiles quickly said as he swung an arm over his friend's shoulders.

"What? Dude, no." Scott pushed him off. "You're too heavy."

Stiles gaped at his (supposed) best friend, making you giggle. "You're a werewolf and you say I'm too heavy?"

Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles's dramatics. "I don't have super strength."

"Yes you do!"

"As cute as the two of you bickering like an old married couple is, we want to play the game now." You cut in before Scott could retort.

Lydia nodded. "She's right. I'll go with Stiles, Allison with Scott." Then Lydia paired you with Isaac.

You turned to Isaac, trying to hide your nerves as you smiled at him. "We got this." You said as you held up your hand for a high five.

Isaac nodded, reciprocated your high five, and grabbed it. "We got this."

You all got onto the boys' shoulders as you guys readied yourselves for the game. You felt Isaac grip your thighs as he adjusted you slightly on his broad frame. You swallowed thickly, but you noticed that Isaac's curls were flattened on his head and were getting into his eyes. You carefully brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"Thanks." You heard him breathe out, making you smile.

"No problem." You patted the top of Isaac's head, fighting the temptation to run your hands through his wet curls.

Isaac had to resist gripping your thighs tightly as he felt the heat of them surround his head and neck. He could only think about different scenarios where they were around his head for a different reason. Isaac had to move his hands to rest on your knees, close his eyes, and take a deep breath to rid his mind of those thoughts.

"Ready?" Allison asked the group. Everyone nodded in response.

"Okay. Go!"

The fire burned bright as Scott threw another piece of firewood into the fire pit in front of you.

The rest of the day flew past you as the six of you enjoyed the beach. After the multiple rounds of chicken fights, you guys swam around for a little, trying to dive under the large waves that began to form. Once you felt tired of swimming, everyone headed back to the tent, and you distributed the sandwiches that you made the night before to everyone.

Conversation flowed as everyone ate and started to snack on the fruit and chips that were out from the cooler. You sneakily took pictures and videos of everyone on the digital camera you brought to document the beach trip. You had even filmed the boys boogie-boarding when they grabbed the boards from the Jeep.

As the day progressed and the sun began to fall, you put on an old red henley that once belonged to your dad and some comfy shorts once you had rinsed off the saltwater on your body.

After everyone was rinsed off and in their comfortable clothes, you had Isaac and Scott grab the firewood from the car and start to prep the fire pit. You had brought dinner to cook over the fire, which was hot dogs and some sweet corn you would roast if anyone wanted. You also brought ingredients for s'mores because what's a summer night without them?

You continued to snap pictures of the pack enjoying the food, and the smile you had since you swam in the water never left your face as everyone had fun. You could tell everyone needed today, needing to spend the day acting like teenagers and not detectives of the supernatural or the saviors of Beacon Hills.

After everyone had their fill of s'mores, Stiles had run back to the Jeep to grab a bottle of whiskey he was able to nab from his dad and showed it to the group like an eager kid showing his parents what he drew in school.

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at Stiles. "Aren't you driving?"

Stiles shook his head. "Nah, Scotty here is gonna drive back. Besides, it's not like he'll be affected if he drinks." He said as he patted Scott's back as he sat back down next to him.

You made an 'okay whatever floats your boat' face at Stiles and snapped a picture of him with the flash on as he took a swig of the liquor, his face grimacing at the burn of the alcohol. The bottle was passed around the circle, and you took a sip of the whiskey, but when it made it back to you again, you passed on it, not wanting to get drunk.

You, Scott, and Isaac were the only ones sober. Allison was leaning on Scott, clearly buzzed. While Stiles and Lydia were slowly getting tipsy as the bottle of whiskey kept being passed around. A warmth settled in your chest as you looked at your friends, and the warmth expanded down to your toes. You looked at Isaac, who was sitting next to you all night, his shoulder brushing against yours, when either of you shifted in your seat.

Not that you noticed (but you did) that Isaac was very fidgety right next to you, always playing with something in his hands, and he would look away quickly when your eyes met. A shiver racked your body as the breeze whipped through the beach.

You felt Isaac shift next to you, and then a jacket was draped over your shoulders, snapping out of your daze from staring at the fire in front of you. The smell of sandalwood, clean linen, firewood, and something that was just Isaac invaded your senses. You turned your head to see Isaac looking at you with a soft smile.

"You looked cold." He gave you a half-shrug before tuning back into the drunken babbling that Stiles was spewing.

You thanked him before sliding your arms through the sleeves and wrapping yourself in the jacket, letting Isaac's scent comfort you further. You looked up at the moon shining down at the crashing waves of the beach, and you decided that you wanted to take a bit of a walk along the shore to stretch out your legs.

You slowly got up from your seat, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

"Where are you going?" Isaac asked lowly.

"Oh, I just wanted to walk along the shore to stretch out my legs." You told him softly.

"Can I come with you? I don't think I can hear Stiles blab anymore."

A soft chuckle left your lips. "Yeah, you can."

Isaac smiled at you and followed you as you walked away from the group. Your and Isaac's departure didn't escape Scott or Allison's gazes. But they shared knowing smiles with one another before responding to Lydia and Stiles.

The two of you walked side by side in comfortable silence, content with listening to the waves crash into each other. You would steal small glances at Isaac, only to find him doing the same, making your cheeks warm as you looked away from each other with shy smiles on your faces. Your hands would brush against each other as you walked, making you feel giddy.

You guys walked for a couple of minutes before you sat down on the sand, not wanting to go back to the rest of the pack just yet. Isaac sat down right next to you as you stared out at the water, admiring how the moonlight made the surface of the water glitter like tiny diamonds were floating in the water.

You let out a content sigh as your head fell onto Isaac's shoulder, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hitting you. Isaac shifted closer to let your head rest comfortably on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"Have fun today?" You asked as you lifted your head up from his shoulder to rest your chin on and look at him.

Isaac hummed as he turned from the water to look at you. He was closer than you anticipated, his nose almost brushing against yours. One side of his face was dimly lit by the soft moonlight. His eyes were more of a cobalt blue because of the night sky.

Your gaze roamed his face, taking in the sharpness of his cheekbones, how the salt water made his hair curly and fell into his eyes slightly. You studied the slope of his nose and how it led down to his cupid bow, and your eyes were stuck on the fullness of his bottom lip.

God, he's so pretty. You thought to yourself until you realized that Isaac was calling out your name. He was speaking the entire time you were admiring him, and a smirk rested on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." You said with a sheepish smile on your face.

"Tired?" Isaac questioned instead of repeating his words.

"A little. But did you have fun today?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I hadn't been to the beach before so it was cool to come here with you guys."

You were a little shocked at Isaac's admission. "You've never been to the beach?" You asked quietly.

"We never had the time to when I was younger." Isaac cleared his throat. "Besides, my dad never really liked the beach."

You knew that Isaac's dad was a piece of shit (your words, not his), and so this shouldn't have been a surprise to you, but you weren't expecting it.

"Well, I'm glad you had fun today." You sent him a tender smile; Isaac mirrored your smile before the both of you fell quiet, letting the waves lapping at the shore fill the calmness that settled between you.

The two of you were just staring into each other's eyes, inching closer until your foreheads rested against one another. Isaac took the hand that wasn't over your shoulder and grabbed your hand.

Your heart started to beat faster as Isaac leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours in an Eskimo kiss. A smirk grew on Isaac's face, and you knew it was because he could hear your heartbeat grow faster.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked gently, feeling his breath against your lips.

Instead of verbally answering, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss. Isaac's lips were warm, and you could taste the whiskey that he had taken a few swigs out of earlier. You pulled away, your eyes closed and your forehead still against his, breathing shallowly.

"I really like you." Isaac breathed out. You opened your eyes to find his already on you, and you could barely see the blue in his eyes because of how dilated his pupils were.

You felt your lips pull into a wide smile at his words. "I sure hope so, because I don't know what I do if you kissed people that you don't like, like that." You couldn't help but tease.

You felt Isaac huff against you and opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, you cut him off with another kiss, this one harder than the last one. He melted into the kiss as he let go of your hand and cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping the apple of your cheek as you leaned into his touch.

You don't know who pulled away this time, but Isaac still had his hand on your cheek as you looked at him.

"For the record, I like you too." You said.

"And here I thought you were just kissing me because you hated me." Isaac teased.

A light laugh left your lips as you shoved him slightly. "Shut up. You're a dork."

Isaac chuckled as you pulled away from him and stood up, brushing the sand off of your butt. You stuck a hand out for Isaac, and he took it as he stood up, not letting go once he brushed the sand off.

"Let's go. We have a long drive home, and everyone is gonna crash once we get to my house."

"Could I crash in your bed?" Isaac asked jokingly as you guys walked back to the firepit with the rest of the group, his hand still in yours.

"Sure, just no funny business." You wagged a finger at him, sporting a serious face.

Isaac chuckled and nodded. "No funny business." He made it a point to cross his heart.

"Good." You stopped and leaned up on your toes to peck his lips, but he caught your neck and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. You couldn't help but smile against his lips and melt into it.

You were so glad you had planned this beach day.

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never-ending-fanfic · 3 months

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More of my sweet little baby✨

Warning: she's too cute

Tala in a variety of fits I couldn't resist but put her in

Explanation of the fits under the cut, from the top, left to right

Tala at the beach in the cutest cherry swimsuit, grumpy at the sand castle having the audacity to collapse

the blue dress is her outfit as a flower girl at Hera and Kanan's wedding (and he's alive and well and def not dead in this AU, she's also gonna be the best older cousin to Jacen)

the green overalls were embriodered by Sabine and given to Tala as a birthday gift at some point and she just loves them so much she could wear them everyday (and sometimes refuses and pouts when Kallus suggests something else)

Tala in Kallus' rebel captain jacket, cause it's so wholesome when kids try on their parents clothes adbsgxgsjbx

Tala after spending a day with auntie Sabine, they spent their time painting and making jewelry (Kallus was horrified at the hair and ready to strangle Sabine before she assured him it'll wash off)

Tala in a dress that just screams "fr my mom put me in this when I was a baby" vibe to me personally

The last one is my favourite, she's so freaking cute in the yellow dress, I just cannot believe how sweet she looks

#star wars rebels #star wars #kallus #alexsandr kallus #agent kallus #kallus is a girl dad #swr #star wars fanfiction #sw rebels #star wars oc #lasat oc #lasat #tala #all my love

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suashii · 3 months

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— 𝒾 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇 ౨ৎ

sero hanta x reader. 7.8k wc. ﾉ sfw ( w/ some suggestive bits ) ﾉ fluff accompanied by a teensy bit of angst ﾉ summer romance ﾉ college au ﾉ swearing ﾉ mentions of alcohol & food ﾉ denki appearance ﾉ multiple tenses used ﾉ repost!

a/n: i recommend listening to never not by lauv before or after reading :3 ++ i edited this and read it through once so i apologize for any mistakes u may find!

this party fucking sucks.

you can’t put your finger on why it’s such a drag—maybe you’d grown out of your partying phase, gotten enough of it the past two years of university. had the scene at the kappa xi sigma house become bland? or maybe it has to do with the fact that the beer pong and blaring music that was meant to serve as a distraction is proving to be more annoying than a useful diversion.

the answer that is staring you in the face, the one you know is the most obvious, is the last one you want to consider.

the excitement of returning to campus with your friends feels dull this year. the transition from summer break to the fall semester has left a foreign void in your life. the annual welcome party hosted by greek life seemed like the perfect way to fill that void—they’d been fun in the past, anyway. but now that you’re here, sitting on the fourth step of the staircase with a concoction of who knows what in your red solo cup, it’s obvious that your intentions are backfiring. because instead of providing you any consolation, the party is only reminding you of what you were trying to force yourself to forget—your time with him.

you met him in the summer at a party similar to the one you’re currently miserable at, but the frat house was traded in for a sandy beach and cozy bonfire. instead of staying in your big city apartment for the seasonal break, you decided to take a trip to the town you’d been born in. it had been far too long since you’d visited your hometown and of course, your aunt was more than happy to have you for a few months. your cousin, too—you’d barely finished unpacking in the guest room when she barged in, insisting that you accompany her to a gathering.

MAY

“people come here all the time but it’ll be especially packed tonight since everyone is done with their classes. and you’ll get to meet a bunch of my friends!” your arms are linked and she tugs you in closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

“sounds like fun.” you smile and squeeze her arm. you missed that while you were away—the transparency people offered here. it’s not like that back home. the same people who will smile and wave at you would wait until you were out of earshot before finding some reason to talk shit about you. it’s exhausting, not knowing what people truly think. but it’s different here. no one ever feels the need to hide behind a mask. even if someone hates your guts, at least you’ll be sure of it. and as odd as it might sound, it’s comforting in its own strange way.

“we’re here!”

you’d visited this beach more times than you could count in your childhood but the sight before you is one you’ve never witnessed before. as the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the blue of the sky melts away into shades of pink and purple—both signs that the day is nearing its end—the beach comes to life. you’ve never seen the area after sunset, maybe because you hadn’t reached the double digits in age before you left, but after sundown, the atmosphere completely shifts. family fun during the day quickly turned to the escapades of students after dark. the set-up isn’t too formal—fairy lights are wrapped around any posts in the sand and bamboo torches fill the gaps that may have ended up too dark without them. there’s no stand for a bar—any drinks are kept cold in the coolers filled with ice. and to top it all off, a large fire sits in a dug-out hole of sand, the flames following the course of the soft breeze.

“wow,” you draw out the vowel, “you guys know how to throw a party.”

the town is small and the biggest school it harbors is a community college but you would be willing to bet money that most of the students who attend it are here tonight. even though summer still hasn’t technically started, there are plenty of people dressed in swimsuits and other summer apparel. you almost feel undressed in your tank top and shorts.

“be impressed later, we have rounds to make.” before you can gawk any longer, your cousin grabs your hand and leads you away. the two of you go from group to group so that you can introduce yourself to everyone. the task takes longer than you expect. it feels like the girl knows every face on the beach. you aren’t complaining though—her connections are sure to land you a few friends of your own. you aren’t sure how long it’s been since you started, but you’re relieved when, instead of hopping from one crowd to the next, you come to a standstill. you don’t think you can remember any more names even if you tried. though, your relief is short-lived.

“there’s one more person i want you to meet.” the girl’s eyes scan the beach in search of a particular someone as you sigh at the thought of having to give the same short “about me” spiel once more. “oh, there he is!”

just like she had all night, your cousin takes your hand and hers and guides you, seemingly to the figure sitting on the ground with their knees pulled up, one hand resting behind them in the sand, the other holding a brown bottle.

“sero! this is my cousin.” she gives him your name.

the man—sero—is quite a sight. a metal bar with a ball on each end sits on the arch of his right eyebrow, a small ring hugging his lip on the opposite side. the top half of his hair is pulled back into a loose bun that is having trouble keeping all the dark strands contained—a few pieces have escaped to frame his face. all three buttons on the chest of his white, long-sleeved shirt are undone, revealing a fair amount of tanned skin and just a sliver of something else. you can’t see exactly where it leads, but the ink on display due to his rolled up sleeves gives you an idea of what it is—a tattoo that stretches from his pec nearly down to his wrist. the dark lines warp and wind around his arm to paint a precise and beautiful image. vibrant pops of red on the petals of lotus flowers and scales of koi fish catch your eye as you inspect it. you will yourself to look away and back up to his face. if there wasn’t such a friendly smile gracing his lips, you would have found him intimidating.

“it’s nice to meet you.” you clear your throat and smile, sending him a polite wave.

“the pleasure is mine. wanna sit?” he holds your eye, jerking his head to the empty spot in the sand beside him.

“oh i should probably...” you were going to say stick with your cousin but when you turn your head to where she was standing, the girl was nowhere to be found. it doesn’t take long to find her, though, a familiar obnoxious laugh drifting through the air, the source of it several feet away. she’s a ways away now, but not so far that you can’t see her. you don’t see the harm in spending time with sero if she has found company elsewhere. “i guess i’ll take you up on that offer.”

crossing your ankles, you lower yourself into a sitting position beside sero, being sure to leave a reasonable space between you. you hug your knees to your chest. your head turns to face him, lips turning up into a slightly awkward smile. he was the first of many who didn’t follow up and ask the basic questions; what school you go to, where you’re visiting from, and whatnot. you have to admit, without the casual conversation starter, you’re at a loss for words.

“want something from the cooler?” maybe the silence was becoming too awkward for him and he decided to put you out of your misery, but you’re thankful for his words—even knowing you’ll have to find a new topic in a couple of seconds.

“if you have water, that’d be great.” sero seems nice enough but you don’t trust yourself to drink anything alcoholic in the presence of a stranger.

he nods, reaching over to open the cooler. he digs through the ice for a bit before pulling out a bottle of water. he holds the beverage out to you, fat drops of the melted ice dripping down onto the sand below. you stick your hand out to accept it.

“nice tattoo,” he comments upon seeing the mid-size piece on your extended forearm.

“oh this?” you turn your arm up so the ink on your skin is completely visible. the butterfly on your forearm was an impulsive decision that you made at the ripe age of eighteen. just looking at it brings back memories of the day you and your friends excitedly entered the tattoo shop. all of you had gotten some sort of symbol or pattern marked on you. they were something of a rite of passage into adulthood, or at least that’s what you told yourselves. you don’t hate it, but you don’t think much of it nowadays. “it’s nothing compared to yours.”

“it’s a little flashy, huh?” he chuckles as he twists his arm from side to side, examining the extravagant piece.

“no. well, maybe, but i like it.” your gaze finds its way back to his tattoo. it’s so much different than your own and you wonder what compelled him to get it. it must have been painful considering it takes up so much space, but even if his pain tolerance is high, you imagine the piece required multiple sessions in the chair. the dedication must mean the tattoo holds some sort of significance to him. “is there a story behind it?”

“nothing deep; i wanted it, so i got it.” the bottle in his hand meets his lips and he takes a swig of the beer.

“really?” his answer surprises you. while you can understand it—his reasoning is practically identical to yours—you weren’t expecting it. something made you think there would be a more grand explanation. “that’s all?”

he nods. “that’s all.”

sero is strange. not in a way that makes you uncomfortable or wary of him, but he’s certainly different. sure, you’ve only spent less than half an hour with him but from what you’ve gathered in that time, your conclusion is that he’s best compared to a puzzle. from his appearance to the way he speaks to the mysterious air that floats around him—you’re intrigued. you want to put the pieces together.

“my legs are getting cramped.” he stretches the limbs out with a dramatic groan before boosting himself up off the ground. his fingers brush the sand off from his khaki-colored palazzo pants. now that he’s standing at his full height, you can see how truly tall he is—over six feet for sure. despite his loose-fitting clothes, you can tell he is on the thinner side; his muscles more lean than bulky. he looks down at your sitting figure, holding a hand out, presumably for you to take it. “care to join me for a walk, butterfly?”

“butterfly?” you question with raised brows. there’s a glint of playfulness in his obsidian eyes.

he shrugs, a smile finding its way to his lips. “i thought it was fitting. so, are you going to leave me by my lonesome or hang out a little longer?”

you look at his outstretched hand. “well, can’t have you feeling lonely, now can we?”

you take his hand in yours and sero pulls you up to your feet. you struggle to find your footing in the sand, but sero doesn’t let go until you regain your balance. before the two of you set off, your companion helps you find your cousin so that you can inform her of where you are heading. the voices and music of the party become hushed the further you both makes your way down the shore.

the rush of waves laps at the sand of the beach as you walk beside them. the sound was soothing, a far cry from the atmosphere you’d just left behind. another wave rushes toward you and sero. you’re nervous that it will reach his sandal-clad feet but it stops just short of them. even if the water had hit him, you don’t think he would mind.

“so...” he breaks the comfortable silence, sticking his hands away in his pockets. you turn to face him upon hearing his voice, but he’s looking up to the sky. the sun was setting when you had arrived but it’s long gone now, the night sky illuminated by sparkling stars. “you’re only here until you go back to school?”

you nod even though he isn’t looking at you. “i wanted a change of scenery and my family used to live here, so this was the first place i thought of.”

he hums in understanding.

“how about you?” your mission of putting the puzzle that is sero together will remain unaccomplished if you don’t make an effort at getting to know him. “you probably go to UA if my cousin knows you from school.”

“yeah, i do. well, i guess i did. i’m transferring so this’ll be my last summer in town.”

“i guess we’ll both be gone in a few months then.” you point out.

“all the more reason to make those months unforgettably exciting, right?”

he has a point; without assignments or essays or presentations to worry about, you’re free to have as much fun as you’d like. living carelessly and creating memories before going your separate ways is a lot like the coming-of-age movies you watched in high school. what sero is proposing sounds similar, but instead of making those memories with people you’d known your entire life, you’d be doing it with some guy you had just met. and, honestly, the thought is exhilarating. maybe the change of scenery you sought would come in the form of a person, not a place.

“what do you say?” he gently nudges your shoulder, looking down at you with eyes full of promise. “want to be my partner in crime for the summer?”

JUNE

it’s been a month since that night. of those thirty days, nearly all of them were spent with sero. you were able to get his phone number before you went home with your cousin and were pleasantly surprised to wake up to a text from him asking to hang out. that’s how it usually went—he either messaged you in the early hours of the morning or super late at night to take you to his favorite spots in town. you could recall a few of them from childhood but others were entirely new to you. one thing remained the same across all the places you visited together, that being with each stop you made, you grew closer and closer to sero.

today is no different—well, just a little. sero’s texts are usually accompanied by a location where you’d meet him. this time around, he asks for your address so that he can pick you up. you gave it to him without a second thought. when you get the text that he’s on his way, you grab your phone and keys and sit outside on one of the steps of the front porch to wait for him. despite expecting him, you’re caught off guard when he pulls into your aunt’s driveway.

“hey, butterfly.” he rarely ever calls you by your name, opting to use the nickname he had coined instead. you don’t mind it. “what’s with the face?”

“nothing, nothing. it’s just, when you said you were picking me up, i thought it would be in a car.” or a truck. maybe even a van. something with four doors; hell, even something with two doors would be on par with your expectations. the two-wheeled, one-seat scooter before you doesn’t even have doors. you aren’t even sure if you’ll be able to sit behind him on the cushioned leather.

“are you telling me you don’t like my vespa? you wound me.” sero dramatically holds a hand to his heart. you shake your head, your feet taking you to stand beside his unconventional mode of transport. upon further surveillance, the white scooter looks cute, charming. it even has a ledge where you could set a bag or basket in the back. still, in the month you’ve spent getting to know him, you never imagined that sero would own a ride that so drastically juxtaposed his image.

“no, no. it’s cool but... i guess i figured if you were driving something with two wheels, it’d be a motorcycle. or, you know, something edgier than a scooter.”

“it’s a vespa.” he corrects you, shoving his spare helmet in your direction. you snort as you take it, placing it on your head and clipping the strap under your chin. “and it’s plenty edgy.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night. so, where do i go on this situation?” you gesture. now that you’re closer, it looks even less likely that there’s enough space left on the seat for you to squeeze on.

“hop on the back.” sero reaches behind him to pat the brown leather.

you give him a doubtful look and he returns it with one of challenging amusement. you can tell when you were beat. with a sigh, you toss one leg over and shimmy forward until your chest is pressed firmly against sero’s back. if you lean back the slightest bit, you’re sure you’ll hit the ground. “i’m not going to fall off, am i?”

you can feel the laughter ripple through sero’s body as the vespa roars to life. he nudges the kickstand back, balancing the both of you on the scooter effortlessly. his head turns to look over his shoulder. the playfully mischievous look that seems to linger in his dark eyes is present—tenfold. “not if you hold on.”

your arms tightly wrap around his midsection as he reverses out of your driveway and speeds down the street. most of your hair is tucked away in the helmet settled on your head, but any of the strands that happened to escape are blown in the direction of the wind. the warm breeze tickles your face. each time sero curves into a turn, your heart feels as though it is floating up toward your throat. it’s nerve-wracking at first, but as you grow more confident that sero isn’t going to skid off the road, fear is traded in for enthusiasm whenever you see his lithe fingers reach for the turn signal. the ride ends up being much more pleasant than you imagined. so much so that you’re slightly disappointed when sero pulls into a parking lot and situates the vespa in an empty spot.

you follow his lead and remove your helmet, taking his hand when he offers it to help you off the scooter. you take the time sero spends making sure the vehicle won’t fall over to survey where he had taken you. he claimed that he was treating you to lunch and the sign spelling out “hamburgers” in bold letters cements his word.

the building is only large enough to house a kitchen—there’s no indoor seating, but a few picnic tables take up space on either side of the establishment. the lack of an indoor dining room doesn’t deter the townspeople from enjoying the food, though. a number of families and groups of friends lounge outside, conversing and laughing over their meals. the environment is friendly.

“mind if i order for us both?” sero bumps his shoulder against yours.

from the start, sero told you he’d never lead you astray. he made a habit of rubbing it in your face and saying “i told you so” during the times when your skepticism at his suggestions turned into you begrudgingly admitting defeat. as a result, you quickly learned to trust his judgement. you shake your head in response to his question, “go for it.”

“i’ll be back.”

you watch as sero makes his way toward the stand to place the order. he greets the employee with a smile and they return it. you’re too far away to hear their exchange but something tells you that it had shifted from food to something else, if the fact that sero was shoving his wallet back into his pocket is any evidence. his comfortability makes you wonder if he is familiar with the worker. if that’s the case, sero has ties with almost everyone in town. it’s possible that he is just charismatic enough to make it seem as though he knows everyone he chats with, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did. it made you think about how difficult it would be for him to move away.

“i’m back and bearing food.” sero approaches with a bright red tray carrying all the menu items he had ordered. “let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

you nod and fall into step beside him, walking past parked cars to find the seating area. he jerks his head toward an empty table, silently asking whether or not that one was okay. it is clean and unoccupied which checks the two boxes on the short list of what you consider a suitable table. you sit down on the bench and sero takes a seat beside you, setting the tray down on the table. you finally get a good look at its contents. two burgers, a large serving of french fries, and a paper cup filled to the brim with a strawberry milkshake, two red straws sticking out of the frozen beverage.

“a milkshake with two straws? and you continue to deny that you’re a romantic.” you waste no time popping a fry into your mouth. the whole “sero the romantic” thing started as a joke. he was gentlemanly whenever the two of you hung out, always offering to pay, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back, and never failing to open a door for you. you took every opportunity to point out his kind gestures, even going as far as calling him boyfriend material. he’d always laugh and brush it off, but his behavior never changed.

“because i’m not. this,” he gestures to the paper cup, “was a frugal choice.”

you smile at his excuse.

“stop looking at me like that and taste your food.”

you laugh and raise your hands in mock surrender before unwrapping the burger from its parchment paper. sero had been raving about this restaurant that supposedly had the best burger in town. the one in your hold looks plainly average but you figure that this must be the place he was talking about—you can feel his stare burning into the side of your face, waiting for your reaction. you would’ve messed with him for a little longer if you weren’t so hungry. so, you turn to face him and take a bite.

he raises his eyebrows in curiosity as you chew. you nod your head and give him a thumbs up so you wouldn’t speak with your mouth full.

“mm, i think it’s more than a head nod and thumbs up if it’s all over your face,” sero comments. while you’re sure that he was exaggerating, you can admit that the first bite usually is messy. your eyes scan the table for a napkin so that you can wipe off whatever is staining your face. luckily, a small pile of white rectangles sit on the tray. before you can grab one, sero softly presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, his tongue poking out to clean off the lingering sauce. your frown brings a smirk to his lips as he pulls away.

you can’t say exactly when that started—the kissing, not licking. maybe a couple weeks into the summer? it was nighttime, you remembered that much, and it was spontaneous. neither of you initiated the kiss, it just happened, almost as though there was a magnet between the both of you drawing you together. and it felt good. too good. sero knew as much, which was why the first words out of his mouth were ones explaining that it would be easier if the two of you didn’t label your relationship. it was strange to you—the concept of being intimate with someone and not calling them your partner, but you understood that it was better this way. you’d have to say goodbye eventually and dissolving ties would come as a less painful task if you didn’t think of sero as your boyfriend.

“i could have done that myself, you know.” you hold up your free hand to flick his forehead but he catches it before you are able. instead, he kisses the pulse located at your wrist, smiling against your skin.

“where’s the fun in that?” he asks through a laugh after you swatted him away.

“ugh,” you groan theatrically, “just eat.”

even though you’re here at sero’s suggestion, he has a more enjoyable time playing around than eating. he spends practically the rest of the outing trying to see if he can land small, torn up pieces of the food in your open mouth and dipping french fries into the strawberry-flavored shake despite you fighting him on it, claiming that the saltiness would throw off the taste. before the two of you clean up to leave, sero pulls out his phone to document the moment. it had become a sort of tradition—taking a photo every time you hung out. he said that this way, the both of you could look at the image and relive the day.

the picture taken to highlight the day is one of you and sero happily drinking your shared milkshake.

JULY

“why couldn’t we ride your stupid vespa here?”

ever since sero introduced you to his vespa last month, he started taking you everywhere on the moped you insulted as if to spite you. so when he came to pick you up tonight, you were surprised to see him on foot. you don’t mind it much, but it’s a little odd strolling down the sidewalk—arm in arm with sero—in your swimsuit after dark.

“first of all, fuck you—it’s not stupid.” he tries to shake you off of him but you only hold on tighter, grinning at his reaction. he never lets any of your sly comments about his vespa go unnoticed. god, he loves that dumb little scooter. “second of all, it might have drawn some unwanted attention.”

“now what is that supposed to mean? you’re not going to get me arrested, are you?” of course you don’t really think sero would take you to do anything illegal, but his wording warrants cause for concern.

he tries once more to escape your grasp, but this time around, you let him go. his now free arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. you stumble at the unexpected motion, but he makes sure to keep you on your feet. a pair of soft lips meet your forehead in an obnoxiously messy kiss. “have some faith in me, butterfly. i promise we won’t have any run-ins with the law.”

“so you’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?” you ask.

“nope,” he pops the p, “wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

sero promised you a summer full of excitement and he has yet to disappoint. no matter how vague he is in regard to what adventure you’re taking next, you trust him.

so when he asks you to close your eyes, you do so without hesitation.

one of his hands covers the upper half of your face to ensure you won’t peek while the other guides you. his touch grounds you but your fingers restlessly tap at your thighs in anticipation. maybe it’s because you gave up one of your senses, but it feels like you’ve been walking blindly forever.

“i feel like people usually do the whole ‘close your eyes’ thing when they’re closer to their destination.”

“so impatient.” his hand moves from your back to tickle your side in a weak gesture of scolding you. you giggle and flinch, but there isn’t much you can do to get him to stop without your eyesight. his fingers don’t continue for long, though, as teasing tickles turn into a comforting squeeze. “we’re here, but keep your eyes shut.”

the warmth that had spread across your face is replaced by a brisk breeze when sero pulls his hand away. even with your eyes closed, the street lights make the darkness within your eyelids a tad bit brighter. you aren’t sure how far away he is, maybe a couple of feet, but you can hear sero fiddling with something—something metal that clacks against more metal. finally, a creaking sound. his sandals scrape against the sidewalk as he moves to stand beside you.

“you can open them in three, two, one.” as soon as his countdown comes to an end, your eyelids flutter open. beyond the gate that sero just made work of unlocking is a sparkling blue pool. the light breeze creates soft ripples throughout the water that is illuminated by circular lights. “ta-da.”

“wow, i didn’t know you had a pool.” a while ago—you can’t say when—you had told sero that you thought swimming in the sea under the stars was something you always wanted to do when you were a kid. you knew that it was pretty much impossible considering how dangerous it might be, so the thought only lived in your head as an unattainable fantasy. this is a little different but the premise is still there—swimming in the blue under the night sky. and you can’t believe that sero had remembered the little piece of information you shared with him.

“i don’t.” sero nonchalantly replies, pulling his crew neck over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs. the lack of sleeves reveals the tattoo you’d easily grown to love. he lets his hair loose from the hair tie that binds it, smoothing a hand over the dark strands to tame any flyaways. you stare at him incredulously. didn’t he just tell you that you didn’t have to worry about getting into any trouble?

“whose house are we at then?” you question. your feet are anchored to the ground. as much as you want to live out this modified version of what you often imagined, you aren’t entirely comfortable with the thought of trespassing on someone’s property to do so.

“a friend’s. and don’t worry, no one’s home. his family is away on vacation.” it seems plausible enough. the silver key that sits on top of his jacket shines under the moonlight. that’s proof that he hadn’t picked the lock. so unless he stole the key, maybe you two really are in the clear.

“hey, relax.” sero can sense your reluctance and moves to stand behind you. his hands reach around you to unzip the hoodie that served as a coverup. once he’s pulled it off your arms, he flings the article of fabric and it joins his in a pile on the pool chair. with your shoulders now exposed, he presses a light kiss to each of them before wrapping his arms around your waist. “i wouldn’t lie to you.”

“yeah, yeah.” he’s right, though. it isn’t like him to lie, not in a situation like this, anyway. you’ve spent enough time worrying and the walk here wasn’t a particularly short one. all things considered, you’re wasting valuable time. “let’s get—”

you aren’t able to finish your sentence before sero’s hold on you tightens and your feet are pulled up and out of your flip-flops. your eyes widen in shock at the sudden motion. there isn’t time to question his actions as sero begins walking you to the edge of the pool. he swings you back to gain momentum before hurling you forward. you’re already mid-air and above the water when a scream rips from your throat.

under the water, everything around you sounds muffled. the cold temperature is jarring enough to shake you from your state of surprise and urge you to swim up. when you emerge at the surface, the first thing you can hear is sero’s irksome laughter. your hands move to push the wet hair sticking to your forehead off of your face. the sight of sero recovering from his fit of chuckles has you narrowing your eyes. “hanta, you asshole!”

you don’t mean to scream—your plan was to keep your volume down in hopes of not disturbing any of the neighbors, but you can’t help it considering what the man had just done. and he has no remorse as he wipes a tear from his eye at your reaction to his antics. to make things worse, you can’t even get him back by splashing the chilly water at his dry figure because he’s jumping in to join you before you have the chance.

the water splatters with his weight, leaving the drops that had escaped to decorate the pool patio in dark little specks. you shield your face with an arm to keep yourself from becoming a victim of his cannonball. he surfaces not long after, shaking his hair out as if he’s a dog getting out of the bath. he meets your gaze with a bright smile.

“i can’t believe you.” you kick your feet to take you away, not wanting to be pulled in by his charm. the waves tickle your face as you float to the other end of the pool. now that you have been in it for a while, the water doesn’t feel as cold.

loud splashes and a new set of waves alert you of sero’s presence. he’s beside you in an instant, still wearing that very same smile. “you can’t?”

you aren’t mad—you don’t think it’s possible for you to truly be upset with him. and despite the little stunt he pulled catching you off guard, you have to admit that it was on-brand for him. all of your lingering annoyance with him disappears as he juts his lip out in a pout. you huff out a laugh at his childish expression.

upon seeing your relaxed countenance, he swathes you in his arms, pulling you close so that the tips of your noses are touching. the blue of the water accompanies your reflection in his dark irises. “i know a pool doesn’t really compare to the open expanse of the sea, but i hope you’re having fun.”

“this is more than enough for me. thank you.” your hands tangle in his wet strands of raven hair to draw him in impossibly closer. your lips brush against his softly in what can barely be considered a kiss. the unintentional teasing has more of an effect on sero than you expect, his lips chasing yours the moment you drag them away.

the cool metal of the jewelry that hangs from his lip presses against your skin as he deepens this kiss. your legs unconsciously wrap around his waist as you suck in a breath through your nose. his tongue swipes across your lower lip and you part the two without hesitation. though, you aren’t granted the opportunity to continue on much further without interruption.

“sero, what the fuck?” an unfamiliar voice rings out in the air causing you to hastily pull away. you search for the source of the noise, following sero’s gaze as he turns around to address the person calling for him. you tilt your head up to the second story of the house you’d barely paid any mind to and are met with a head of yellow hair that is strikingly bright in comparison to the darkness surrounding it. this must be the friend that sero was talking about.

“hey, kami.” he’s considerably calm for having just been caught in such a promiscuous position. does he not find this the slightest bit embarrassing? “i thought you were out of town until tomorrow.”

“yeah, well, obviously plans changed.” the guy’s—kami’s—eyes finally fall on you. the burning in your cheeks tempts you to hide behind sero, but there’s nothing malicious behind his stare. there is only fatigue and a little alarm swimming in his golden eyes. they dart back to sero. “i hate to cut whatever you’re doing short, but you need to get out of here. my parents are going to kill me if they find out you have a spare key.”

“we’ll be out of your hair, man.” sero sends him a two-finger salute. his friend shakes his head and closes his window, presumably to go back to bed.

sero rotates to face you.

“on vacation, huh?” you shoot him a questioning look.

“you heard him,” he shrugs with a smile, “plans changed.”

AUGUST

aside from the chirping of crickets and the gentle wind rustling the lush leaves, it’s silent. your head rests comfortably on sero’s shoulder, his arm folded around your waist. he’s brought you to a hill that overlooks what seems like the entire town. it would have been nice—his company and the view—if the silence wasn’t so suffocating.

even your first night together wasn’t this quiet.

you try to ignore the stillness by turning your focus to the scenery before you. somewhere down below is denki’s pool that you swam in last month, the burger place you’d eaten at the month before, and the beach where you met sero the month before that one. you can only pick out the beach now. just like that mid-may night, it’s lit up by string lights and contained flames, and the stretch of sand is occupied by the very same people you became acquainted with three months ago. there’s a party going on—some end of the summer get together that your cousin invited you to just out of courtesy. she knew you wanted to spend your last night here with sero.

“it’s really our last night together...” his voice cuts through the silence. you normally love hearing him talk; it usually brings a smile to your face. but just like the rest of this night, his voice has a different effect on you—one you can’t claim to be fond of.

“yeah.” your voice breaks. there it is—the reason, or part of the reason, you can’t will yourself to break the silence, will yourself to speak. you don’t know what to say and you figure any words you can string together into a coherent sentence will only end up cracking in your throat.

your cheeks are wet—you’re crying. the tears slip from their ducts, sliding down your cheeks and slipping past the corners of your mouth, leaving a taste as bitter as this moment on your tongue. an instinctive sniffle makes you wrinkle your nose. you don’t even realize that the sleeve of sero’s shirt is soaking up half of your tears.

“hey, no tears, butterfly.” you can feel the vibrations of his voice on the side of your face. he squeezes your side in hopes of comforting you. and it does, a little, but part of it hurts. not physically, but knowing that these few touches from him will be your last is painful. “didn’t we have fun?”

you think back to one of your first conversations with sero—the one when he asked you to join him in making the summer unforgettably exciting. you had no way of knowing just how much fun you’d have and how many memories you’d make along the way. at some point, sero had wedged his way into your heart and made a room for himself. all the memorable moments you had lived with him over the summer would reside in that room.

you nod weakly, as best you could in your current position. “yeah, we did.”

from the start, you knew that this was bound to end eventually, that this world you were living in would only last the summer. what you couldn’t have predicted was the bond you’d make with sero. you knew that the closer you got to him, the more difficult it would be for you to say goodbye in the end. still, even facing the hardship now, you wouldn’t change anything given the chance.

"thank you.” his utterance is barely a whisper, as though the words were meant for you and you only—as if you’re in a bubble secluded from everyone and everything else.

“hm?” you snuggle into the crook of his neck, taking in the familiar fragrance of his cologne—just another thing you’ll miss. “for what?”

“being my partner in crime.” his head comes to rest on your own and your eyes drift shut at the contact. he breathes in a heavy sigh against your hairline. you can feel his lips curl up into a smile. “i can’t imagine giving the position to anyone else.”

a smile of your own makes its way to your lips. “same here.”

sero is much better at hiding the emotion in his voice, but if you were able to get a look at him, you’d be able to see his eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

—

it’s been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him. as happy as you are to be back in your element, you’d be lying if you said things had bounced back to the way they were before you met sero. something about life now feels off. it isn’t that you aren’t yourself, rather, that a newly discovered piece of you has gone missing. you’ve been driving yourself crazy trying to figure out how parting ways with someone after only four months of knowing them could leave you feeling so hollow.

all you are sure of is that you want to get out of here.

you throw back the pink liquid in your cup, the sting causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. no point in letting a perfectly good drink go to waste, right? you stand up and wipe the condensation that had transferred from the cup to your hand on the front of your pants. your feet carry you to the nearest trash can and you crumple the plastic, tossing it in the bin. you attempt to recall where your roommate said she had wandered off to—you can’t remember if she said beer pong or king’s cup. either way, you need to find her to see if she planns on staying much longer.

process of elimination; beer pong up first.

the scent of liquor and sweat invades your nostrils as you near the room where the long, black table is situated. it’s nauseating but you push on, determined to find the person you’re searching for. unfortunately, your roommate is nowhere to be found in the crowd of people packed within the four walls. you scan each room left on the first floor of the frat house and there is still no sign of them.

it isn’t like her to go somewhere without a word and she definitely wouldn’t leave without telling you. you have yet to pull out your phone but it’s becoming clear that you’ll require the aide. you just hope she has her phone somewhere on her person.

your eyes are glued to the screen in your hand, fingers tapping out a message while you make your way to the back door. you’re just about to hit send on the text when you collide with something hard. the impact draws an “oof” out of the barrier you had just run into. that much tells you that it isn’t a wall, but a person. you rush to apologize for your fault.

“shit, sorry.” you rub your forehead at the site that had bumped into what must have been a chest. everything inside your skull feels jumbled.

“no worries—butterfly?”

your ears perk up at the nickname. only one person calls you that and as far as you know, he isn’t anywhere near here. but there is no mistaking that voice—it sounds exactly like him. your eyes drag up from the floor to face the figure. you must have put back that alcohol too fast or hit your head harder than you thought because you swear that sero is standing in front of you.

“don’t tell me you forgot about me already. or are you just drunk off your ass?”

you almost, almost, can’t believe it’s him, but everything about the guy from his daring piercings to his hypnotizing dark eyes to the stunning tattoo on his arm screams sero. it is him. it has to be.

“sero?”

“the one and only.”

you blink at his confirmation. all he can do is smile at your confusion.

“wh-what are you doing here?” you ask—not that you aren’t unhappy to see him—it was quite the opposite, but you’re still trying to wrap your head around him being here.

“this happens to be my new campus. thought i’d try to make some friends before classes started. but i can’t say i expected to see you here—what a pleasant surprise.”

he told you that he was planning on transferring schools but you figured there was no point in asking what or where that school might be. and what was the likelihood of him ending up on the very campus you called your own? apparently, the odds were greater than you thought.

the awkwardness of your encounter is melting away into the comfortability you’d come to associate with sero due to the newfound information. you don’t know if it’ll be possible to jump back in where the two of you left off, but having him back in your life is more than you could ever ask for.

you nod, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the wide smile that threatens to stretch across your lips. “how’s that going for you?”

he shrugs. “eh, doesn’t matter. i just ran into an old one.”

“oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow in question.

“yeah.” he shoots you a knowing look. the sparkle in his eye serves as a signal that something playfully entertaining is brewing behind them. and, more than any time during the summer, you can’t wait to find out what he might be scheming. “hey, do you wanna get out of here?”

you don’t have to think about your answer. “i’d love that.”

thank u for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: my hero academia #sero hanta #sero x reader #hanta x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #sero fluff #mha fluff #bnha fluff

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a-twistedheartslonging · 5 months

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This is a pretty dark ask so feel free to ignore this if you feel like it but I read somewhere that when lions take over the pride of another lion, they’ll kill all dominant males and cubs

This prompts to wonder, if Yuu already had a partner and child, would that mean that Leona would be willing to get rid of them in your nonhuman AU to make Yuu available again?

Oooooh, I love dark asks, send as many as you want.

Depends, if we are going with Yandere Leona then yes to killing the partner but no to killing the kid. He's probably gonna be a distant stepdad since he doesn't like or want kids, but the kid is a part of you, and he loves you and doesn't want to hurt you. But then again, the kid might grow on him, like those dads who didn't want a pet cat/dog, but they end up being best friends.

Plus, the kid can be used to keep you from wanting to leave him. The little guy is probably going to be used to keep his nephew distracted so he finally leaves him the hell alone. But hey, now Cheka has a cousin his age to be best friends with and your child will have anything they could want. (and Leona's brother will such the fuck up about "when are you going to have kids?")

It's actually canon that Scar from The Lion King had an adopted kid and a bio one, I think.

None Yandere Leona won't kill but will try to pull a Mr. Steal Yo Girl and show you what a better life he can provide you and your child. Aside from the killing thing everything else will be the same as above....well unless the partner was abusive to you and/or your kid.

Even if he wasn't a prince with political power that can make anything go away it's pretty easy to get rid of a body when you have the power to turn anything and anyone into sand.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ask #asks #suggestive #soft yandere #yandere #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #twst leona

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cryptidclaw · 1 year

Text

Shriketail!

Pre-Blinding version v

Design Notes:

I gave him a less Oriental shorthair inspired body type this time since he's adopted instead of Downnose's bio-kit now and and I need to stop myself from making too many Thunder cats have Wind Order type builds LOL. TBH I think this design looks more like how in envision him anyways!

Character Bio:

Shriketail

(Longtail)

Gay; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 11 moons; 15 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 8 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -tail = a cat with great balance and who always lands on their feet; often a jack of all trades as balance is used in almost every skill

Warrior of Thunder Order; he was the unofficial Second/acting Second for a while after Sandstorm's presumed death, but he never wanted the full position and was happy to return to normal Warrior duties once Fire chose a new Second.

Mentor: Darkstripe

Mother (adoptive): Downnose

Mate: Star Firesight

Queer Platonic Partner: Sandstorm

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool; Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin (Note! Shrike is adopted so none of his kin is related by blood!): Cricketstep (uncle); Star Ravenscourge (uncle); Dustpelt (uncle); Cloudtail (cousin); Snowshoe (cousin); Mistletoe (cousin); Spiderleg (cousin); Shrew (cousin)

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Shriketail, an AU version of Longtail from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and a cocky, determined grin of his face. He is a slender, short furred, light brown tabby tom with black stripes and a white underbelly, legs and lower face. His face has pink jagged scars running over his eyes and across his face and is eyes are are cloudy blue with pink surrounding the pupils. s left ear is torn at the tip, his nose is light pink and he has a spikey tuft of black hair on his head simulating bangs./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a digital drawing of Shriketail, an AU version of Longtail from Warrior Cats. This image is the same as the previous one, but he has no scars on his face, and his eyes are not cloudy./End ID]

#Im going to start posting my designs even if I haven't finished the character summaries! they will be added later once I have completed them #cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #longtail #shriketail #longtail design #longfire #longfiresand #warrior cats design #warrior cats #warriors

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frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

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part three of dad!daemon headcanon pleaseeee🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄, 𝐏𝐓𝟑:

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader

author's note: last episode, aemond beat the shit out of baela and rhaena, and daemon didn't gave a single shit about his daughters being blooded and bruised. i thought i should rewrite that, specially because the day aemond lost his eye is a thing in our dad!daemon au. also, i'll make aemond a little bit ooc because he needs to be an asshole, AND, I changed the way aemond loses his eye.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. i hope you like it!

warnings: mentions of animal cruelty, descriptions of children getting harmed, aemond is his own warning, children cussing, this headcanon is pure chaos so be prepared.

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

this takes places months before part 1.

Daemon hated Aemond.

At first you thought it was funny that a grown ass man had such hatred towards a little boy, but then, you saw it with your own eyes.

You and Daemon once watched the kids' dragon training lessons, and you noticed how Aemond's eyes squinted once your son commanded Araxes to dracarys.

So it started there. Your son had his own dragon — and so did your daughter — , and prince Aemond had none.

Daemon would always complain to you how Aemond was picking on Rhaegon during sword fighting training.

"He should be more violent, I don't want Rhaegon to let that prick hurt him."

"Now, you're the one who's picking battles with Alicent." You warned.

Aemond never liked the fact that Alyssa could watch their fighting training. She was a girl, and wasn't supposed to be there.

He couldn't hurt Rhaegon outside the training camp, so he discovered that it was easier to mess with the Targaryen girl.

When Alyssa found her pet cat beheaded under her covers on her blood stained bed, she left her shared room crying, not even answering to Helaena's questions.

She went to the boys’ chambers, where she found her brothers, and Jacaerys and Lucerys sleeping.

Alyssa woke them up and went downstairs to find their parents, hoping they could do something to punish Aemond for his actions. But unfortunately, they found the boy first.

"Cousin Alyssa! I see you’re crying... What's wrong? Didn't like my present?"

Alyssa ran to punch him in the face, but he punched her first.

It started a huge fight, where Rhaegon, Luke, Jace and Alyssa were against Aemond.

Aemond threatened to kill Luke and Alyssa, and Jace tried to stab him with a knife.

Aemond was the most gifted in body combat, so he quickly dodged the Velaryon boy's attack, and kicked him away.

Luke threw sand in Aemond's eyes while he held Rhaegon by the neck, and Jace threw Alyssa the knife.

"Take your fucking hand out of my brother!"

Alyssa wasted no time to cut Aemond's eye.

Aemond fell to the ground screaming, but it was too late when the guards finally came to his rescue.

"What's the meaning of this!?" Daemon stormed into the throne room where everyone was reunited.

"Alyssa! Rhaegon!" You cried out, taking your beated children in your arms.

"What did you do to them, you freak!?" Daemon hissed towards the sewed-eyed boy.

"You're seeing this, Viserys!?" Alicent yelled, "Where do you think your brother's children learned to bully our son?"

"His own brother bullies him!" Rhaegon pointed out.

Aegon was just as unbearable as his brother, but at least he wasted his time drinking instead of making your children's life a living hell.

"Aemond killed Alyssa's cat and punched her in the face!" Lucerys told his uncle, and Daemon groaned in anger.

"That bitch cut my eye!" Aemond uttered.

"You were suffocating my brother!" Alyssa remarked.

"That is enough!" King Viserys yelled, "I want you all to make up and forget this all happened."

"That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged permanently, my king." Alicent stated.

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye. What would you have me do?"

"There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of Daemon's daughter eyes in return. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Alyssa Targaryen."

Your eyes opened wide in horror as your daughter ran out of your embrace to hide herself behind Daemon.

"You will do no such thing!" You warned the queen.

Ser Criston stayed in his position while Viserys warned, again, that the matter was finished.

Alicent took the dagger that the king carried around, and came towards the girl, that was still being protected by her father's body.

Daemon acted quickly and unsheathed Dark Sister, pointing the blade to the Queen. All the guards took off their swords.

"Father!" Alyssa cried out.

"Give one more step and both of us will die." Daemon warned, "I'll cut your throat open like a piece of ham, and the King shall have my head. I don't mind dying for my family, your Grace."

Alicent threw the dagger to the floor and left.

Daemon gave you an apologizing look after putting himself in such danger.

You both took care of your children’s wounds, and find out that Maegon stayed in his room after Rhaegon ordered him to.

You took the boys to their room with Rhaenyra and her kids, while Daemon took Alyssa to hers.

"You acted bravely tonight." Daemon whispered against your little girl's silver locks, and gave her forehead a kiss, "I'm proud of you, my little stormfire."

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagines #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au #dad!daemon targaryen au

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gallaghersgal · 2 months

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Hi there! How are we doing on this fine sunday? I spent the day at the beach and of course, that gave me some ideas so ahem ahem ✨beach day with carmy bear✨

First let’s talk about the most obvious thing ever but…this man looks HAWT okay?!!? He already does on a daily basis, doing the most regular things ever but at the beach????? 74 dead, 192 injured.

anyway yeah he looks really good but also:

You manage to whisk him away for a few days, just the two of you to relax and you rent a small house by the beach. Your goal is basically to get him to slow down a bit, catch up on some sleep and have fun, you know?That in itself is tough because he!!cannot!!relax!!!!!!!!! But he’s also very very in love so he agrees for a weekend away.

He carries all the bags because he was raised a gentleman and there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?

You insist on putting sunscreen on his back and face and okay maybe it’s just an excuse to give him a nice massage and maybe he knows that but plays along too

But he’s just as protective, always making sure you’re hydrated and you’re wearing your hat if you’re seating in the sun.

i might be almost 21 but playing in the waves!!!!!! and making sand castles!!!!! at first he might think it’s a little silly but not in a mean way, just the kind of thing he doesn’t think of to have fun because he just doesn’t have fun yk? but he helps you and realizes it is actually fun. it definitely turns into a competition btw and you end up both winning and eating ice cream as a reward.

Playing cards too!! i feel like he knows one or two great cars games that he’d teach you, something he got from Mickey or Cousin maybe?

also napping on the beach. he lays his head on your belly while you read and you’re playing with his hair and the weather is nice and it’s actually pretty good to feel the sun on his skin and—when you notice he’s sleeping, you don’t move, just let him take whatever he needs.

you 100% make sure to take a billion pictures of him, of the two of you (you send one of him sleeping to nat <3) and he tries to take aesthetic pictures of you, he snaps a few more just to keep for himself.

a lot of talking too!!! he’s been working a lot, you too, life got in the way so you take the time to catch up—you tell him about the new show you want to start with him, he tells you about a flea market he’d like to check out. It feels nice to catch up and somehow it reassures him? Like his anxiety gets too much and he’s scared you might be unhappy but then you talk and you tell him you love him and you want to do things with him and his chest feels less heavy.

who says day at the beach, says watching the sunset together. of course it’s beautiful but carmy keeps looking at you and the way the light seems to hit your features so perfectly well because he’s a sap.

You get a little cold and he’s instantly handing you his sweater. And I just know his heart melts when you nuzzle closer to him <3

I love to think he’d stay up at night to listen to the ocean. He can’t sleep because his mind is too loud so he goes on the little patio and listens to the sounds of the waves on the shore. Maybe you join him, rest your head on his shoulder and enjoy the moment with him. he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

-🧸

hey so something you don't know about me is that i love the beach more than literally any other place on earth!!!!! i went to the OBX a lot as a kid and it shaped me into the woman i am today!!!!! i love the beach!!!!!!!!!!!! i even had a finnpoe beach au that was like. god. it was at minimum 10k words and it wasn't even complete yet. i would just work on it when at the beach house my father took me to cause there was no wifi there- but enough ab me!!!!!

i agree that baby boy canNOT relax, poor thing. but you could talk him into it saying he can try all kinds of new restaurants and get some ideas for a seafood course for the bear menu <33 and ughhh i just. staying in a cutie little beach house with him!!! i used to go to the beach every year and when i got old enough to really appreciate the whole day, my fav thing became evening walks and i know those would sooth his soul sooo much

"there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?" i will sob??? i will actually cry and scream and roll around on the floor???? god i just. carmen carrying your bags upstairs to the house while you take stock of all the general beach things available in the shed underneath. yall know how beach houses are on stilts? yeah like that. and placing your shampoo and body wash and things in the outdoor shower so it can be used first thing, because once everything is unloaded all you wanna do is walk down to the ocean and once you're there, well, who isn't gonna jump in!

massaging the sunscreen into his back, the way he would sigh a little, and you can press soft kisses to his cheek as you do so. ugh i looveeeee him!!!! he would be so so protective, making sure there's plenty of snacks, and if you're hungry he'll walk the beach with you until you find a little sandwich shop or taco place for whatever you wanna eat. he's confused at first why you're making a sand castle, preferring to sit and read his book, but suddenly he's finished with a chapter and spending time with his girl seems so much more fun, so before he knows it he's packing wet sand into the mould sitting across from you, sandy shins and messy hair, but he's all smiley too

the poor thing would get so exhausted from playing in the waves, probably bc he's not used to it. swimming in the ocean really takes it out of you!! so when you're laid out under the umbrella reading he grumbles like "babe, lemme... c'mere," and tugs you just a little closer to rest his head on your tummy :((( playing with his curls while they dry from the salt water, forming them into perfect little spirals, putting a little braid here and there

just talking to each other and catching up in such a relaxed setting is so sweet im gonna sob. maybe y'all snagged a beachfront place so you can watch the sun set over the water ((i have never seen this... #eastcoast)) while you're sitting on the rlly comfy deck chairs, he's got a beer and you've got a little cocktail he made you, and you're playing cards and chatting about what's been going on lately. just sitting out there together listening to the waves, wrapped up in his sweater from his culinary school i- i genuinely cannot. i love him and i love the beach. I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE THE BEACH!!!!!!!

tldr; me and 🧸 love the beach and carmy so much

#🧸 anon fanfics when #you've inspired me hella #my google doc is staring at me expectantly #❀ anons: 🧸#ask maggie #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fluff #❀ carmen berzatto

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sea-owl · 1 year

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on the sand cousins au, thoughts on sakura being in line for kazekage (it was hereditary, right? I can't imagine they'd elect gaara.)

also sand siblings with an intense ass grudge against sasuke lol

ur meeting ur gfs fam and u tried to kill her cousins, they've tried to kill you, and ur gf could've been kazekage, if she wasn't born in konoha.

You know I don't know. Was the kazekage position hereditary? Wouldn't surprise me if it was.

I don't think Sakura would be in line for it, though. In my head, it was always Mebuki and Karura, the sand siblings' mother, who were related. How closely related is up to you guys.

But lmao them having a grudge against Sasuke. Maybe that's how they ended up on the retrieval arch (seriously they had to he close for them to come to the rescue like that. Sand and Leaf are canonically three days journey from one another) The sand siblings were coming to visit and oh hell no. This dude made their cousin cry. Where's he at? Don't worry Sakura we'll go help Naruto drag him back to the village. Years later Temari sends a message to Kankuro and Gaara to hurry their asses up to visit Konoha. Not only do they got Shikadai to visit but Sakura came home with Uchiha and they have a baby. Gaara and Kankuro both curse because now there's no way of getting rid of Uchiha. Sakura why? Bad enough Temari procreated with that lazy ass Nara. They could have found you a nice guy in the Sand village.

Sakura is also pissed off when the Akatsuki took Gaara and poisoned Kankuro. You poisoned her cousin and then KIDNAPPED HER FAVORITE ONE?! Oh, someone was definitely gonna die. Her taking out a missing sand nin was just a bonus to her cousins' village.

Sakura didn't leave Gaara's side for three days after he got back to the village. She claimed it was to make everything was okay medically since he came back to life an all but really she was kinda scared to leave her family member alone.

Now fair warning I do actually like Matsuri and do ship her with Gaara. I think it's cute. I know some of you get weird about it. So stop here if you don't want to see GaarMatsu. You get weird about it I will use the block button.

At some point during Sasuke and Sakura's journey they make a stop in Sand where almost the whole time they're there Sakura is teaming up with Kankuro to match make Gaara and Matsuri.

Gaara will never admit it but Sasuke kinda helped in this area. Both Gaara and Sasuke are more reserved in their emotions. During one drunken night Gaara asks Sasuke how he was able to let go and show his love to Sakura. Gaara doesnt say it but he wants to be able to do that too with Matsuri. To he able to show her he loves her. Sasuke admits he is still learning but it's a process he's working on together with Sakura.

The next day during one of Kankaruo and Sakura's schemes that involve poor oblivious Matsuri Gaara listens to Sasuke's advice and takes the first step in showing his love to Matsuri.

Sakura is ecstatic, Sasuke is happy Sakura is happy.

#naruto #sand cousins au #sand siblings #sakura haruno #sabaku no gaara #sabaku no temari #sabaku no kankuro #sasusaku #gaamatsu

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violettduchess · 7 months

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Hello Vi! I have a request for you, only if it inspires

Tutor AU! With one or more of your fave suitors tutoring you for your upcoming exams;

Leonardo, Comte, Gilbert, Leon, Silvio and Clavis!

I'd love to see what you come up with ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I had a very immediate idea for Comte so I went with him for this request!

Comte x Reader, Tutor AU/ Modern AU

WC: ~1.9k

The library looms large as you hurry up the wide, slate-colored steps under a sky exhaling its last breath of evening color. The stars are slowly blinking into existence, determined to shine before they are hidden behind the slow-moving blanket of clouds heading their way. You would pause to enjoy the ephemeral moment when dusk ebbs into night.....

Except Comte is inside, waiting for you.

You’re still not sure how it’s come to this. Comte as your tutor. Your mind travels back several weeks….

Several weeks ago:

One minute you're balancing an armful of books along with your backpack and several bags of uneven groceries that are seriously testing your stubborn decision to do it all in ONE trip. The next, however, everything is falling onto the polished grey tile floor of your building’s lobby, the objects seeming to leap like lemmings out of your arms. As you stand there, staring defeatedly at the scattered mess, lost in the gravity of your poor decision, the elevator doors you were originally trying to reach slide open and like the pearly gates unveiling an angel, Comte de St Germain steps out, in the process of buttoning his elegant camel-colored coat with one hand.

Before you can say a word, he takes in your forlorn expression, the embarrassing pile of your things at your feet, and he is by your side, kneeling, helping you gather up your stray apples and the mini-boxes of cereal you are probably way too old for but love anyway. Your cheeks flush as you stammer a thank you.

You know him more by reputation than actual acquaintance. He lives in the sprawling penthouse at the apex of your building, the crowning glory of the gothic structure, and is usually spoken about in whispers and sighs by the other residents:

“Comte? He’s a museum director downtown.”

“I hear he is a world-famous antique dealer who has made millions.”

“He’s gotta be a tech-millionaire with all that dough.”

“Well I know someone who knows someone who swears he’s a member of the royal family of some tiny European country.”

“I don’t care what he does. He’s got to be loaded to live up there.”

“I hear he’s never been married.”

“My cousin’s best friend’s neighbor's babysitter says he’s divorced from someone super famous.”

“You know what he is? I'll tell ya. Drop dead gorgeous.”

This mysterious man with eyes the color of desert sands is on the ground in his expensive suit and coat, helping you gather your plebeian things and oh, do you want to melt into the floor and disappear.

Until……

He stops, holding one of the books you had been juggling, a surprised expression crossing his classically beautiful face.

“‘The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’ by Edward Gibbon. Fourth edition.” He seems impressed, curiosity flaring to life in the mesmerizing gold of his eyes.

And you take that lifeline, words stumbling over themselves across the knot of your tied tongue as you explain you are a graduate student, majoring in history, mentally preparing yourself for the avalanche of final exams heading your way.

And how he smiles, his long fingers tracing the embossed lettering along the spine of your book, borrowed from the local library. Entranced by the movement, you can't look away from his hand, reverence hushing his voice as he explains how he works for a museum (Points to the woman in Apartment 15B for getting that one), how he also studied history.

And then one thing leads to another and your rambling about the stress of your exams and crunch for time has evolved into Comte St. Germain, the mysterious Bruce Wayne of your building, offering to tutor you.

The Present:

And now here you stand, the night of your final session, heart prowling, turning circles in your chest like an unruly feline.

Taking a steadying breath, you continue up the steps and head inside, enjoying the sound of your heeled boots across the polished wooden floor. Past towering shelves filled with books you go until you reach the narrow iron staircase in the back, the one that spirals upwards to the second floor. Your feet follow the path they have gotten used to over the last few weeks, through the racks, down a narrow gangway until you reach the small cluster of tables at the western corner of the library, the ones underneath the imposing arched window that allows you a clear view of the darkening sky and the pale orange glow of the streetlamp across the street.

Comte looks up from the book he has been reading and offers you a smile, at once familiar and exotic.

“Ah, there you are, chérie. Ready for our final session?”

Something inside you constricts at the thought that this is the last time you will be here with him like this, tucked away in the surprising intimacy of a large public library, listening to his honeyed voice as you discuss not only history, but also the mundane: what music he listens to when he goes on long drives, his favorite type of wine, the best tea for a rainy Sunday morning. And it isn't just his speaking….Comte listens. He really listens when you talk, when you ask questions, when you give an opinion. He rests his chin on his hand, head tilted ever so slightly, his entire attention focused on you, whether you are explaining the fine points of one of the many Treaties of Paris or doing your best to convince him that dipping your French fries in your milkshake really does make them taste better.

With the glow of remembrance in your smile, you slide into the seat next to him, running your fingers along the soft grain of the elegant wooden chair as you settle in.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you say, returning his smile while looking at the array of books he has spread out across the table. “Let’s do this.”

“Oui,” he says as his smile curves into a grin. “Tonight we’re focusing on art for your art history final. You already sent me the list of pieces your professor wants you to know for your exam so we can work our way through those.”

You breathe in, trying not to get distracted by the warm, earthy scent of his cologne.

“Professor Leonardo is great but it’s such a long list….” Your shoulders slump at the thought of tackling everything on it. And then you feel Comte’s hand there, on your forearm, warm even through the soft material of your blouse.

“Then let us begin.”

He spends hours, guiding you through Girl with the Pearl Earring, The Birth of Venus, Las Meninas, and Water Lillies. You wander through the great masters like an enamored visitor in an enchanted garden, listening as Comte helps you to remember what you have learned about the paintings as well as unlocking secrets you have never heard before. He leads you through the design of the Colosseum, the Parthenon, Hagia Sofia, Notre Dame, his voice a golden thread that spins you across the architectural wonders. And now, in your final hour of study, he opens the book of sculptures. You visit Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David, the Venus de Milo. And finally, you come to the last sculpture on your list: Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova.

“Ah…” He pulls the book closer, the photograph of the sculpture filling the page. “This….is a masterpiece of….” He glances over at you, brow lifted as he waits for the answer.

“Neoclassicism…but with strong elements of the Romantic, given the subject matter.”

“Bien joué.” The praise falls from his lips softly, slides over you like melting wax, sends a jolt of heat across your skin. He doesn’t seem to notice as he flattens down the pages with both hands, his bright eyes roaming over the image.

“So you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”

You try to remember what Professor Leonardo explained in class when he had introduced the sculpture. “She opened a forbidden jar and was put to sleep as punishment?”

Comte nods. “Venus forbid Psyche from opening the jar. It supposedly held Divine Beauty. Psyche could not resist temptation and instead of beauty, she was overcome by the Sleep of Innermost Darkness.” He grins slowly. “Very dramatic. Cupid sees his lover unconscious and pricks her with an arrow, awakening her. This sculpture captures that moment.”

Outside the library window, the streetlamp glows a soft orange. A light rain is now falling, making the light seem as if it is dancing, shimmering against the night.

“Just look at the lines,” he murmurs. He takes his index finger and slowly begins tracing the line of Psyche’s body. It follows the curve of her torso as she stretches up towards Cupid. “Her arms reach back for him.”

You lean in, closer to Comte, watching the path his finger makes along the glossy page. Your heart is suddenly hammering a woodpecker’s song against your breastbone.

“Her hands are in her lover’s hair, the gesture so familiar, so loving.” He traces down the line of Psyche's neck. “And here….she is bent back to him, so exposed and vulnerable, tilting to look up into his face. What do you see there?”

His voice winds itself around you, wrapping you in golden vines of warmth and want. You need a moment to find your own. When you do, it is only capable of expressing itself in a breathless whisper.

“Tenderness. Joy.”

He nods slowly, trailing his finger down Cupid’s strong arm. “And what do you see in him?”

Your thoughts are bright butterflies, sparks that fly up into the haze of your mind and explode in little pinpricks of light. Blinking, trying to control the overwhelming wave of attraction that threatens to pull you under, you reach out and touch the same page, your fingers scant centimeters from his.

“He’s…..adoring. The way he holds her head, his fingers touching her face. And he’s smiling at her, affectionately. Openly.” Your gaze drops down to where Comte’s finger points to Cupid’s left arm. You clear your throat and continue. “He covers her breasts with his arm, shielding her from the viewer, and yet that one hand holds her in a way that’s….it’s so intimate. It feels somehow more intimate than if we would see her bare.” Your voice is a whisper, soft and woven through with delicate wisps of yearning. “He touches her as if he’s done it a hundred times and still revels in it…..” You trail off, pressing your lips together, unable to go on.

Comte’s fingers brush against yours and you turn your head, startled to find that your faces are so very close. Outside the rain gently rolls down the massive glass window. The streetlamp flickers. Comte’s gaze is a steady golden sun.

“He adores her,” he murmurs, his voice rolling through you. You feel his fingers move, covering yours on the page.

“She marvels at him,” you answer quietly, your fingers curling around his in response.

He leans down ever so slightly, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his words on your lips. “He dreams of her……”

“.....and he is what makes her waking sublime…” The words are hardly more than the breaths between heartbeats.

His mouth brushes faintly against yours, the softest touch, a silken feather, a velvet caress.

“....He wants nothing more…..” His hand tightens around yours, his chest rising and falling with the contained power of his emotion. “...than to kiss her….”

“He should,” you say, soft as a nightingale welcoming a summer evening. "He should kiss her."

And he does, pressing his lips against yours as the wave that has been looming ever closer pours down upon you both. One hand rises, gripping the nape of your neck with tender ardor. You plunge your free hand into the soft wilderness of his tawny hair, opening your mouth to taste him.

Your other hand? It is still tightly holding onto his, a promise you won’t let go.

An echo of Cupid and his beloved Psyche.

Pysche Revived by Cupid's Kiss- Antonio Canova, 1793

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#ikemen series #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #ikemen comte #comte x reader #tutor au #modern au #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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godihatethiswebsite · 5 months

Text

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 4 - A conversation behind bars

I'm quickly learning that dialogue is a massive pain in the ass and makes this process a gazillion times longer. Also thank you to the small handful of you who have acknowledged my existence and are reading this <3

Walking into a Cairo prison was not how you thought you'd be starting off your afternoon.

When your cousin told you he'd found a guy, he absolutely failed to mention that the man in question had been incarcerated for the past five months for what he claimed was a bit of 'disorderly conduct'. And by that what he really meant was for beating the ever living shit out of some bloke to the point of permanently crippling him.

You ignored the greasy smiles and uncouth jeers as you passed by the other inmates, the weight of Kyle's arm around your shoulders keeping you close a welcome security blanket. Guards banged on the cells to silence their rude remarks, you trying to keep your cool despite your obvious nerves as you were led deeper into the facility.

You didn't understand why your cousin was walking with lighter steps. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was no stranger to dealing with dangerous men. Maybe it was simple patriarchal ignorance considering he wasn't the one the comments were being directed at (though he was certainly pretty enough for them you thought to yourself). He was on edge and alert, sure, but it felt more like he was eager for what lay ahead instead of the cautiousness you yourself displayed.

You got your answer when you came to a halt outside a heavy gate, an open air courtyard lay beyond full of all sorts of wirey types of folk. You and Kyle had to be the cleanest people in there as your gaze swept over the group, most coated in a layer of grimy sand and sweat. The guard who had been escorting you through the prison shouted something in Arabic that caught the attention of some of the others standing around, the crowd turning to look towards a singular point near the back of the group as a figure stood up from his spot at a table and made his way over to your location.

He easily stood apart from the rest of the people here, not just because it was clear by his facial features and skin tone that he wasn't a native to these parts, but also just by the way he carried himself. His clothes were ragged same as everyone else inside the cage, but there was a stockiness to his build and a purely male arrogance to his walk. He looked rough from all the time spent in imprisonment; filthy dry skin, hair wildly uneven with oily strands slicked back from his face, a dark messy beard grown quite bushy. Everything about him screamed scoundrel. Hardly seemed the type you should be asking for assistance from.

It didn't escape your notice that as he approached the bars there were a handful of inmates that gave him a wide berth. If this was the type of man that made others like him give pause then who the hell knew what he was capable of.

Apparently your cousin, given the lazy wave being sent his way much to your complete and utter confusion. Your brows furrowed as you glanced between the two of them. Why such familiarity?

Kyle just gives him a shit eating grin leaning against the bars and says, "Hope you didn't have to bend over for anyone in there."

"Nah. They said mah mouth's prettier than mah arse anyways."

Scottish - definitely not an accent you're used to hearing. And just as vulgar as his appearance would suggest, even if your cousin technically encouraged it first with his own remark. It ruffled your skirts the same way his appearance did as he approached and stood only a foot away from the gate, taking an instinctual step back only to be halted by a gentle but firm hand on your lower back by Kyle.

"Dolly," he began, gesturing towards the figure in question, "allow me to introduce you to an old comrade of mine, John MacTavish. John, meet my cousin, dolly."

You had enough manners to politely correct the man with your actual name rather than the fond nickname you're cousin had been referring to you with. He must've recognized yours the same as you had his going by the way his eyebrow quirked up with interest.

"Aye, ah ken who ya are, hen." There's a twinkle of a hidden joke somewhere in those baby blues. "Heard many a tale about ye from this fella 'ere. Yer picture doesnae do ya justice."

It slightly surprises you that he's seen your face before, but it makes sense given the small snapshot you'd sent along with Kyle before his first real foray out into combat. It warms something inside of you that he'd shared the photo with some of the lads he served with.

"So," he crosses his arms over his chest as he returns his attention back to his old teammate. "Are ye 'ere to give me mah sponge bath or did ya jus' miss seein' mah ugly mug too much and decided to pop by fer a wee chinwag?"

Kyle shrugs off his crude comments with an ease that speaks of how common this sort of behavior must be from the man. Going off the tales you'd been told over the years you were sure he was well versed in dealing with his particular brand of behavior. "How's about I'm calling in a favor for all those times spent digging you out of the mud. You still the same man who'd charge headlong with me into the trenches?"

"As long as ah get tae be the one who jumps in first."

"Even if that leads us into the lost city of Hamunaptra?"

Whatever he thought Kyle was going to say was obviously not that, his turn to look confused as a dark shadow replaced the excited gleam in his eyes. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure we were the closest to being alone as we could get in a place like this, he leaned into our space even more as the metal bars would allow, his voice dropping down into something more hushed as his expression hardened.

"Whaddya doin' in a place like that, Garrick? 'S not somewhere ye take civilized company like the lass 'ere, that's fer damn sure."

"We just want to know if it's real." You speak up for the first time in the conversation, two pairs of eyes suddenly focusing on you with rapt attention that you struggle not to waver under. "We're not looking for trouble. Only the chance to gather as much information as we can about the city's existence."

"It's real, hen. Jus' take mah word on that and leave it be."

Something in you tugs at his refusal, the same feeling as being talked down to by both your parents and Dr. Price emboldens you in a way you normally aren't. Not that it's reflected in your outward stature unfortunately.

"I'm not blind to it's fabled history, Mr. MacTavish, but I'm not one for the paranormal either. Take us there long enough for me to know my head isn't just filled with silly notions and storybooks and I'll be satisfied... please."

He considers you for a long moment with eyes more intelligent than his current looks would give him credit for, searching for something in your soul he must find before turning his gaze back to Kyle with a resigned sigh.

"Ah'll not be goin' much of anywhere wit' these bloody chains 'round mah wrists. Unless ya have the patience ta hold off on this lil' expedition 'til ah'm good and free."

"Depends. How much longer you stuck in here?"

"Longer than ah deserve tae be."

Maybe your cousin had rubbed off on you a bit too much over the years. Maybe the well cultivated mind that lost itself quite easily in books of long forgotten kingdoms was just turning it's gears wanting to solve a puzzle other than education for a change. Or maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that just because you aren't as worldly as your two companions that you weren't just some useless thing.

You hold up your palm to them as you glanced around the area, spying one of the guards lingering far enough away to give you a modicum of privacy while forming an idea in your head. Biting your lip nervously, you smoothed out the lines in your garments before you turned and strolled over to the man, hands folded petitely in front of you as you plastered on the most doe-eyed genteel smile that your mother had ingrained in you since you were old enough to begin taking etiquette lessons.

It only took a few demure flutters of your lashes and a well placed touch on his bicep for the guard to lead you away from the caged in courtyard and down a series of hallways, flashing the guys a nervous but reassuring smile that kept Kyle in his place instead of running along after you, having been granted an audience with the warden of the prison.

You tried your best to remain steady on your feet as you were shuffled along to a small office near the back of the compound, very aware you were currently alone with considerably questionable men as you quietly took a deep breath to calm your racing heart. This was the second time today you were about to undergo something well outside your wheelhouse all for the chance to do something incredibly reckless that may or may not even be worth it. With a knock on the door and a beckoning 'enter', you stepped inside the cramped but well lit room to try and barter for a stranger's freedom.

You'd returned a short while later, interrupting whatever hushed conversation they appeared to be engrossed in and looking far more at ease than you left them. Before either one had a chance to open their mouths at your arrival, the warden you'd previously been speaking with was barking out a command in Arabic to some of the guards nearby. For a moment, John began to struggle as two pairs of hands wrapped themselves around his arms, practically growling in objection to being manhandled before the warden spoke up again with a mocking sneer, halting his movements.

"Escort our friend here back to his cell until further notice. Apparently, Scotsman, lady luck is on your side this day."

Once the slimy man retreated out of view, you let out the breath you'd been holding since you began this charade, a hand over your heart and another resting on your cousin's shoulder to help ground yourself. How you got away with that was beyond your comprehension and certainly not something you'd like to repeat again.

"And just what do you call that, dolly?" Kyle inquires with a bemused grin as a slightly befuddled John is lead away by his jailers, glancing over his shoulder at the two of you as he tries to work out whatever mischief you did that managed to get him an early release.

"I call that a proper utilization of my upbringing." You respond with a pleasantly surprised and satisfied smile, catching eyes with your future travel companion and dropping into the most perfectly executed curtsey before turning on your heels to walk back out the way you came, missing the look you're given in return by a man who finally saw a glimpse of the clever lass he'd always heard so much about.

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

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[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

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