#i like to think when they fight together this is what they always fall back to cackles

[rindreamery]

the apartment we won't share.

it just wasn't meant to be— a bitter sentiment you and itoshi rin had agreed on. you two deserved better, wanted better, but it doesn't change the fact that you two will always love each other. you'll stay stuck, thinking of him, in an apartment you will never share.

itoshi rin x reader - angst, no comfort - w.c. 2k

“it gets better with time,” you always tell yourself.

but the world continues to move around you, and you still feel like you’re frozen in time. your mind is trapped in its own prison— drifting off to a place you can never return to, dreaming of a time when you had everything you wanted. 

you feel like you’re stuck in an empty apartment in winter. the walls are white and barren, and the world outside is covered in a blanket of snow, and it’s like you’re staring at a blank slate. the wooden floors are aging terribly, cracking and lifting, but that doesn’t bother you. it doesn’t make you like it any less. you could always repair it, or maybe you could simply throw a rug over it and pretend that everything was okay. 

it wasn’t perfect, but it was yours, and you guys were going to fix it together. 

it was a blank slate filled with dreams and promises about the future— dreaming of what kind of people you two would turn into, dreaming of what it would look like when it was no longer winter. imagining, as you stared out the window, what the world outside would look like as the snow faded away into a new season, into something else. would the trees outside bloom into cherry blossoms? or would they bloom into peach blossoms? 

“i think they’ll be apple blossoms,” rin had answered, then. “what do you think?”

“that wasn’t even one of the options,” you frowned at him, playfully nudging his side. he frowned back at you, staring at one another— but neither of you could fight the urge to smile. “to answer your question, though, i think it’ll be peach.”

the trees outside were now starting to bloom. the petals were light pink with a cleft on the tip, they looked like hearts, a singular flower on each stem, smelling faintly of fresh sap and honey. the sweet scent wafts into the open window, but you feel anything but. bitterly, you realize: you were both wrong. it was a cherry blossom tree, blooming softly against the fresh green of the grass around it, the remnants of winter having melted away into a fresh spring. 

the world is renewing itself; a rebirth. and it makes you feel somewhat spiteful, it makes you feel as if you’re falling behind. as if the world isn’t giving you enough time to grieve what you’ve lost. and then you start to wonder, it makes you start to think of him again, and you lose all your progress. 

you think of him because you know rin. he overthinks, gets lost in his thoughts, as often as you do. so, does he feel the same way, right now? is he thinking of you too? does he miss you as much as you miss him? but you stop yourself— it’s unhealthy. 

you just find it funny, how time works— how, one day, you could go from planning your future around one another, together. and then, the next, he’s gone and you’re alone. you’re left to sit by yourself in the empty living room, boxes of furniture remaining unopened around you, because they were things you both had decided on. things you both wanted. you couldn’t bring yourself to open them.

and then a flash of green catches your eyes from your peripheral, sitting on top of a box.

“i think this would look cute,” you had tugged at his hand, grabbing his attention, to show a potted cactus. it was short, stubby, in its early stages of maturing. it was perfect. “i wanna watch it grow by our window.”

“yeah,” your eyes remained fixated on the cactus, but his eyes had remained on you. you didn’t see the small smile on his lips, the look of love swirling in his eyes, unconditional then. “let’s watch it grow, together.”

the cactus never really grew, you realize. 

it’s wilting, leaning against its pot for support, the once-vibrant green now fading into a muddier green. it was never placed on the windowsill, always tucked away in a dark corner of the room. stunted by the neglect as you had both grown busy, as you had started to drift away.

time heals, people had always said to you, but you now know that time also has the power to tear things apart.

it's a victim to time. (and maybe, you think to yourself, you were too.)

you’re staring at it until your eyes begin to blur, and then you simply blink away the haziness. you turn your head away, trying to suppress the memories, the questions. willing the what-ifs that lingered in the corner of your mind to go away. but it doesn’t work, and the thoughts keep pushing and pushing, until it's at the forefront of your mind. 

what if i hadn't let him go? what if i asked him to stay? what if we fought harder? what if we had become better for each other?  your mind keeps asking all these questions, but you have no answers. what would this apartment look like right now?

happier— that, you know that answer to.

as you sit on the floor, you think of how it used to be, of what the two of you used to be— images of happy smiles and secret, shared moments float around somewhere in your thoughts. the echoes of soft laughter still bounces around the walls, sometimes, but it's no longer from you. just from a hallucination of a distant version of yourself, dancing around the room. an unfamiliar feeling bubbles in your heart. it feels weird to miss him, but it feels even weirder to miss yourself. is that even possible?

you begin to wonder where it all went wrong. and your mind starts to snowball.

truthfully, you couldn’t pinpoint it, the moment when you realized he was slipping through your fingers— or was it you? or was it neither? maybe just the space between two of you, growing with each day, until the two of you could no longer get to one another. until neither of you could reach each other’s hearts. to feel so distant, with a man you loved and lived with, was a different type of loneliness.

this room, you realize as you sit in the center of it all, has always felt so much larger without him. 

“how many kids do you want?” you were both lying on the floor, staring at the empty ceiling. your legs were intertwined, your head placed on his chest, listening to the constant thrum of his heart. you felt him hum, at your words. “do you even want kids?”

“i don’t care, honestly.” his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “as long as it’s with you, i’m happy with whatever.”

“gross, who even are you? this is not the rin i know.” you joked, and you felt him pinch your side. “i’m just kidding… me too, though.”

the life you imagined sharing with rin, the plans you both made— all of it fades into a hazy, but somehow vivid, dream. you always find yourself wanting to slip into it, to fantasize and live in it for one day longer, to remember how it felt. but you remind yourself: there’s a reason why it ended.

you both deserved more— more than whatever the two of you could provide. 

“i’m sorry,” you remember hearing rin’s distant voice through the phone. “i know i said i’d be able to make it back for christmas, i just— i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you stood there, phone pressed to your ear, as you stared out the window as the blizzard covered the world in snow. you felt cold, despite the walls surrounding you, bracing you from the harsh winds. you felt cold but you understood why, all too well. “most of the planes wouldn’t even land in this weather anyways. besides, i was supposed to go with you, but i couldn't.”

you knew what dating someone like him meant. you knew it would mean having to spend time away from him, thousands of miles between you, and infrequent phone calls. you knew— but you didn’t want to get used to it. you didn’t want to know what it felt like to be constantly disappointed, to sit by your phone as you sat through the radio silence. to feel guilty everytime you wanted more from him.

you just wanted him there.��(but you knew that was too much to ask for.)

“i still wish i was there with you,” he had said after a beat of silence, and his voice was softer. “i miss you.”

“me too,” and maybe in a sick moment of clarity, you realized he deserved someone who didn’t need him; not as much as you did. i wish you were here too, but you never said it.

you both deserved more— something the two of you would never be able to give to one another. 

what if i had tried? another question, straggling after the torrent of many others you had asked yourself.

but you shake your head, because you know the answer. trying wouldn't have fixed anything.

you still wished it was different. words would never be able to explain how you feel; the deep stinging in your heart, the tugs at your heartstring, the feeling of pain that shoots through your fingers when you think too deeply of him. words would never be able to explain how much you wish that it didn’t have to be like this. 

you think that maybe the weight of the future was too heavy for the both of you, maybe you two just weren’t ready for whatever you had dreamed of. rin, driven by his ambition, his thirst for greatness, and you—stuck between wanting him to be everything he dreamed of but also wanting to be the one he chose. 

you didn't want him to choose, so you chose for him.

it was at the peak of winter when it all fell apart in your hands. “i think… i think it’s been a long time coming, honestly.” you had laughed bitterly, you laughed even though your heart felt like it was being ripped into two. your voice was soft and broken, like you were already grieving, and the raging blizzard outside threatened to drown you out. “i just want you to be happy. but, i want me to be happy too.”

you both stand in the middle of the room, still as unfurnished as when you had both bought it.

“i’m sorry,” was all rin could say. but he couldn’t even look at you. his fingers were intertwined with yours, hands shaking as he held onto you, but he couldn’t meet your eyes. “i’m sorry i couldn’t be enough for you.”

you couldn't look at him either.

you stared out, blinking away the tears that pooled in your eyes. you wanted to speak, you wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just him— but the words all felt like they were stuck in your throat. constantly gulping back the barrage of tears, soothing yourself, too afraid to cry in front of him. 

afraid that if you did, he would want to take it all back. to take you back. to hold you in his arms and tell you that this was a mistake. 

and that you would cave, and repeat the cycle.

you knew, then, that love wasn’t enough to hold you both together— not when you were both chasing different versions of happiness for one another.

maybe, your dreams had never aligned to begin with.

but that’s what made it hurt more. the fact that you could never truly hate him for leaving like he did, because you did too. you could never hate him for wanting better, for reaching for something more than what you could give him. because you wanted it too. maybe not the same dreams, but you wanted to be someone who could stand beside him, strong enough to handle everything he was destined for. you wanted to be the one to hold him when things got tough. but you couldn’t pretend to be that somebody for him. 

so you let go.

not because you stopped loving him, but because you loved him enough to let him go. you still love him, and maybe always will, even as you learn to live without him. you'll always think of him when the snow first comes around, and when the trees start to bloom. it’s a kind of love that doesn’t fade, the kind that sticks with you forever, no matter how much you wish it would. 

the world continues to move around you, as it always does, indifferent to the memories you carry. maybe you’ll always wonder what could have been, dream of an apartment you’ll never share, for the future that was never for you two to have. 

the world will continue to move, and you know that, eventually, you will too.

note. i was listening to "the apartment we won't share" and "seasons" non-stop while writing this. i just needed to write something sad LMFAO

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[lie-lacdreams]

Tender (Curly x Reader)

here's a little oneshot that takes place in Thermodynamics & Turmoil but can be read separately. Sorry if the writing is a little weird - I wrote this at 3 am. I'll create a masterlist soon to clarify timelines as I write more of these.

This goes out to anyone who feels like there’s never an end in sight. I’m right there with you. Things will get better and all your hard work will pay off.

Engineer! Reader x Curly Word Count ~ 1.1k

Dread is an all-consuming feeling – she would know. Disaster always felt imminent, and if she didn’t burn the midnight oil, skip another meal to conserve a precious thirty minutes of time to scan through pages and pages of steam tables, her failure to figure out her responsibilities would fall on her crewmates. 

It was times like these where the cortisol would flood her system, leaving her in a permanent state of anxiety, numbing her to any other emotion. 

(Y/N) had her limits. She was human, after all. Pushed beyond her capacity a long time ago, she had no choice but to continue – she wouldn’t dare think about what would happen if she didn’t succeed. 

She was currently in the lounge, the familiar spread of her texts and loose papers over the table. Hungry and tired, she promised herself a snack after she had a breakthrough, but things weren’t looking promising. Just this morning (or was it technically yesterday morning now?), she sat where she was now, having spent the entire night with books open as the lounge screen grew brighter and brighter. At some point, Swansea made his way in to get some coffee and raised an eyebrow at her, wishing her a good morning. It embarrassed her to no end to be caught, and she tried to lie and claim that she just woke up early to get a head start on work. Scrambling to collect her things, she made her way somewhere else so she wouldn’t get caught by anyone else. 

(Y/N) knew at this point, Curly was very likely worried about her, but she knew that he would know better than to interrupt her when she needed to concentrate the hardest. While she wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and sleep, she knew her work was far from over. 

At this desperate hour at night, the bar for comfort was a low one. Taking a moment to strain her eyes towards the night time display, she thought it was the most beautiful thing she had seen all day. Looking back at the compressibility chart in front of her, waves of lines seemed to melt and swirl together into insignificance. She needed to sleep, but with so much at stake, she knew she couldn’t. Every hour down to the last minute counted now as the ship’s steam tunnels were a ticking bomb unless she could figure out how to decrease the pressure building up. 

Blame it on the heat exchangers that corporate failed to add safeguards to. Or the worn and weathered valves they refused to replace on the insulators. If only the ship were running the way it was supposed to, (Y/N) wouldn’t have to jump through hoops and reinvent the wheel. But alas, she was here now, fighting a valiant battle to keep her eyes open and her brain wired. 

The door opened, and (Y/N)’s eyes darted over to the noise and stuck to the man who entered through it. She typically never saw him out of uniform and in such casual clothes (she assumed what he was wearing now to be his pajamas). A simple white t-shirt spread over his chest and shoulders while he wore a simple pair of sweatpants. His wavy hair, usually parted and somewhat styled, was unruly and disheveled, likely from sleep. The tired expression on his face was unwavering, a deep seated frown and furrowed brows were not budging. 

“Hun, what are you still doing up?” He sounded disappointed, and she slouched further in her chair, ashamed. 

“Duty calls. I’m working on a tight deadline, Captain. The ideal gas law waits for no one, no matter how tired they may be.” She let out a loud sigh as he pressed the pads of his fingers into her shoulders in an attempt to sooth all the knots that accumulated in her muscles. 

“It’s frustrating knowing that I can’t do much to help you. I wish there was something I could do to make it better.” He sat beside her now, gently holding her face in his hands as he caressed the dark circles under her eyes with his thumbs. He brought her head closer to his lips to kiss her face. Her heart leapt, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his arms and feel the weight of his hold. 

Suppressing a whine, she put a hand over his. “You just being here now makes things better already.” 

Curly’s eyes brightened for a second before he stood up, tugging her hand to get up with him. “Come on, I have an idea.” He helped gather all of her supplies as they moved to the couch where he dragged the coffee table closer, moving board and card games to  place her things down. Sitting down in front of the table, he patted the spot between his legs, inviting her to sit with him. With a small chuckle, she sat, continuing with her work once more as he pressed a kiss on her neck and rubbed her shoulders. For an hour they sat in silence as (Y/N) worked diligently, the feeling of being under his hands grounding her to a greater degree than she was before. 

Finally, she put her pen down, leaning her back into Curly’s chest as he wrapped both of his arms around her. “All done?” He asked, hopeful.

“I think I’m in a good place to stop until tomorrow morning. At least this way I can get a couple of hours of sleep in. Swansea will need to help me with tightening and loosening the valves for what I need next, anyway.” There was a rush of giddiness that flooded her as she turned around and kissed him. They both leaned back more into the couch as he wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss. Their movements were slow and lazy, likely a direct result of the fatigue they felt, but the grasp Curly had on her was warm and firm – secure and safe. 

“Thank you for staying with me. You made that more bearable than it typically is.” She looked down at him, now laying on his chest. He brought her to rest against him, one of his hands still rubbing her back. 

“I got you, hun.” he said simply. They laid in the silence of the early hours of the morning, savouring the warmth they shared a few minutes longer before (Y/N) reluctantly got up, Curly following suit. But even as they moved towards the door to head to their beds, his touch was ever present on her waist, and at her door he gave her one last kiss goodnight before heading to his own room. 

Working for Pony Express was harsh and unforgiving for her; she was never disclosed the amount of responsibility she would have to shoulder when she first joined, but now, lying in bed, exhausted and starving beyond belief, she couldn’t bring herself to feel regret and disdain. The job was hard, but at least she was here with him, and he treated her so tenderly.

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

fluff headcanons for dylric, go!

dylric fluff headcanons!

thank you so much for requesting hehee!

i think after their shifts together they take home whatever left over pizza/other stuff there is and then they go to erics house in his basement (sometimes in his living room if no ones home) and theyll watch movies together, eating what they have left over and stuff….i think theyd fall asleep together too…

whenever theyre wearing their gear, theyll both always be readjusting each other every time their clothes get out of place. like if theyre out shooting and the recoil messes up dylans hat/sunglasses eric will always be quick to push his hat and glasses into place.

dylan totally uses eric as an arm rest. it definitely annoys him, but he just deals with it LOL

theyre both very quick to defend each other and stand up for one another. insulting one of them is like insulting both of them.

on that note - i feel like dylan is erics big scary dog and people get a little thrown off when they see the two together meanwhile in private dylan is the sweetest puppy you could think of.

they totally tease each other back and forth. it doesnt even really matter what its about, but theyll do it and itll always end up in them play fighting. dylan usually wins because of their height difference, but he lets eric win a lot too.

they definitely make fun of people for being lovey dovey and using pet names for their partners, but they absolutely do that too in private. theyll say some of the most cliche pet names ever, but they still enjoy it. theres also a lot of compliments and touching.

i just need dylan to come up behind eric, wrap his arms over his waist and have his chin resting on his head….or for eric to be behind him instead like that but with his head resting on his back.

they can both comfortably enjoy each others silence while theyre doing things - eric would be leaning against dylan while he writes in his journal or hed be sitting in his lap with his arms over his stomach. they could both fall asleep like that.

they share cigarettes when theres only one left and sometimes they just shotgun the smoke to extend its use (its just an excuse to kiss).

theyre both very awkward with kissing and touching, but they work through it together and do their best to communicate what they need although they suck at it.

they both will fall asleep in the car while the other is driving - especially if its super late. they just find it relaxing.

theres no designated big spoon or little spoon - they just do it in whichever way feels most comfortable for them at the moment. eric has also definitely slept with his head on dylans chest….dylans slept with his on erics too, but he was halfway off the bed when it happened because of the awkward position LOL

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter III

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 6.5k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

we finally get a little glimpse into the life of the vestals in this chapter. i'm trying to write this in a way that requires no prior knowledge of them, but if it sounds interesting to you, i'd highly recommend reading up on them, it's very interesting! also wanted to mention from here on we will dive into how acacius and our vestal get to know each other (until we reach the plot of gladiator II again). enjoy! <3

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) vero - yes paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials bonam noctem - good night

Chapter III

211 AD

You whisper small apologies under your breath as you carefully pierce the needle through Acacius' skin, feeling him tremble under your touch. “Only one more, then I am done. I promise,” you mumble, casting an anxious glance at his face and the cold sweat building on his forehead. “Take a deep breath. Stay with me, vero?”

He nods, his voice rumbling deep in his chest when he speaks up. “I always stay with you.”

“That is not what I meant,” you mumble back and wince as he tenses at the last stitch. You quickly tie the loose ends of the thread together and lift the wet rag to his arm again, wiping down the fresh blood that's trickling from the wound. It’s not too much but you do not need to be a medicus to know that he has lost too much of it today.

Your hands shake as you reach for your gown, ripping a long shred off it. Acacius raises his head at the noise, staring at you. “What is this for?”

“What do you think it is for? That wound cannot stay unprotected.” You reach around his arm, beginning to tightly wrap the linen around it, soon covering the red stains that slowly appear on the first few layers. You have seen him wounded–in fact, you can barely recall a time where he has been completely healthy. But you haven't seen him so weak before. His head keeps drooping, like he will fall asleep in his seated position in mere moments.

With a satisfied nod you tie the bandage into place, nudging the General's shoulder as you make to stand. “Acacius.”

Soft brown eyes stare up at yours, a sliver of something odd in them. It only lasts a moment–then he shakes his head as if to get rid of the ill feeling settling over his body. “You have to go.”

“I cannot leave you alone when you are like this. You need someone to watch over you. You’ve lost blood and the wound–” You are cut off by a strong arm curling around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap like it costs him no effort at all. At least he is limiting his movements to his unwounded arm.

“Acacius–” Before you have a chance to speak properly, his lips crash onto yours. The kiss tastes of blood and wine and desperation. You do not have it in you to put up any resistance, instead letting him take what he so clearly needs in this moment. Your hand creeps up his chest, ghosting over his red tunic and the exposed skin of his neck until you reach his hair. A small sigh travels from your mouth into his quite involuntarily when one of his soft curls wraps around your index finger. The world could crash and burn around you. He would still find time to press his lips onto yours, to hold you tight.

When he pulls back, you’re both panting, his chest rising and falling next to you. His arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist and you reach for his hand, intertwining it with your free one. A squeeze is his immediate response. His eyes fly back and forth between your eyes and you can practically feel his words coming. You’re half tempted to kiss him again, just to keep him from speaking.

“Dulcissima, I need you to listen to me.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives a firm shake of his head. “No. There is no time. I need you to take the path at the back of the house. Go back to the Temple. If anything happens–”

“What would happen?” You interrupt, your voice shaking slightly. Your stomach lurches slightly as you think back to what he has told you mere weeks before. His troops, that will be landing in Ostia and marching towards Rome.

“If there are riots–”

“No. I'm not leaving you. Not now,” you choke out, raising your voice slightly. It echoes eerily in the otherwise silent atrium. You know your tears are as imminent as the riots outside the door.

“If there are riots–” Acacius repeats, and you hate how controlled and stern his voice sounds. You aren't one of his soldiers. Yet he speaks to you like one. You’re ready to follow him no matter where he goes. But he is not your General. “–I will personally make sure some of our best soldiers are sent to protect you and the others. We have always protected the Vestals with our lives, you know we have.”

A choked sound leaves your throat because he is already speaking like a man who doesn't plan to return in the morning. Acacius pulls you in closer, wrapping both arms around your trembling form. His dried blood leaves stains on the linen of your white dress. No matter how careful he is with his hands, he always leaves you stained. Red, no matter where he goes. He turns flourishing cities into battlefields and their citizens into grievers. Wives into widows, children into orphans.

No more.

“Rome will fall. Won’t it?” You whisper into his chest and you feel him sway slightly as he shakes his head. He takes a deep breath before nudging your head back just enough to press his forehead against yours.

“No. The Emperors will fall. Rome will rise out of their ashes.”

His face tells you that he is speaking the truth. And this is precisely what scares you. “I want to stay with you. You cannot make me leave,” you whimper, squeezing his hand so tight that it must hurt. He presses one last kiss to your forehead before nudging you up with his leg, forcing you to stand again.

“Truthfully, I cannot make you. I can only ask.” A sad smile decorates his lips as he looks up at you, his eyes gone soft. “Besides, it is bad luck to touch someone marked for death, dulcissima. You of all people should know that.”

***

209 AD

You carefully balance the slender pot of water between your hands, the ceramic cold against your fingertips. Tending to the herb garden is one of your preferred duties, allowing you to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin while you work. The temple is never cold, not with the fire of Rome burning in its middle. But the longer your shifts become, the more weary you become of the lack of the sky and sun above.

Tipping the pot over ever so slightly, you let a thin string of water flow down onto the row of small herbs that stick out of the ground. Your head tilts upward towards a blue sky, just enough to peek over the roof of the house that you and the other Vestals live in, located right next to the temple of Vesta–and conveniently at the foot of Palatine Hill.

You can see the General’s–no, you mentally correct yourself, remembering your conversation with him–Lucilla’s house from here, at least the part that is not hidden by trees. You haven't seen him again since taking his will and storing it safely in one of the upper chambers, labeling it carefully and placing it on its assigned shelf, to be retrieved only in one of two cases–on his command or his death. The thought makes you shiver and you mumble a quiet prayer for him to the earth below you.

You see people, mostly women, come to the temple to pray to Vesta. To ask the goddess of the house and hearth for safety, for enough food on their table, for the health of their family. You pray with them, of course. You pray for each and every citizen of Rome. But you remember what one of the older Vestals said to you when you arrived at the house as a mere child, picked for nearly a lifetime of service.

Her eyes had been kind as she had bent down, adjusting the veil that was still much too big on your form.

“She is not just in the flame, my child. She is in the smoke that rises above and the earth that stretches below. Vesta will always hear you. She will always be near.”

You bow your head towards the earth at that, setting the pot aside to instead place your hands between the green and brown, fingertips grazing the earth that feeds you.

It is one of your tasks to pray for all of Rome, often with a special few words for the soldiers, to ask Vesta for their safe and victorious return. But the image in front of your eyes shifts as you speak the prayer that falls off your lips so naturally. It summons the memory of the gentle, brown eyes that promised you their trust.

Keep him safe.

It is a prayer you repeat over and over again, sending it into the earth as well as the air as you kneel under the roman sun, asking for the gods to hear you.

When you raise your head again, squinting slightly as your eyes adjust once more to the brightness of the day, he is there.

You called on the gods. But it is Acacius who has appeared.

You see him taking slow steps through his garden, one hand outstretched as he lets it brush past the fields of lavender. Your own hand, still tucked into the bed below you, moves against the herbs absent-mindedly as your eyes stay fixed on the small figure above the Forum Romanum.

He’s too far away to make out his expression–or even his face. But the broad shoulders, the red paludamentum, the gentleness with which he carries himself–they all let you know it is Acacius you’re looking at. It’s like he has heard your prayers and instead of waiting for one of the gods to answer, he has taken them upon himself.

It happens more frequently after that. The courtyard garden of the Vestals spans almost the entire length of the house, with two small pools lowered into the ground on each side. You pass around it by day and by night and your gaze flies between the columns and upward more frequently than ever.

Just in passing, of course. Just for reassurance. A constant, a joyful moment when you spot his figure. A pinch of something else in your stomach, something you force yourself to ignore, when you see Lucilla's robes billowing in the wind while she walks beside him. He rarely wears his armour, but when he does, it glistens in the sun, reflecting the rays of light, almost blinding.

You often wonder what he is thinking about. If he is pondering the next campaign, possibly even politics, though you have rarely heard about him being involved in them. He strikes you more as a soldier than a politician. A man as loyal to his army as he is to the Emperors.

“Senator Gracchus told me that they are moving some troops south,” Severa announces as you settle down for your evening meal. She is about your age, having been chosen in the same year as you. And she has taken the most interest in politics out of all the current six priestesses, often volunteering to deliver and pick up scrolls from the palace or the senate to hear the news of the day.

“Did he say why?” You ask as you reach for the carafe of wine, motioning towards her glass and, at her nod, pouring her some. You repeat the motion with your own glass before leaning back again.

“No. But I suppose the people further south are not happy.” Her voice drops slightly as she speaks. “They do not wish to risk an uprising, that I am sure of.” You nod carefully, casting a glance to the other side of the room where the two eldest vestals are taking their meal. It is not your duty to meddle in politics. You are the guardians of the hearth of Rome. Day and night, one of you is always in the temple, watching over the flame. Making sure it does not burn low.

If extinguished, it is not just the fall for the Vestals. It predicts the fall of Rome. So now more than ever, you do your duty carefully.

“May I ask you something?” Severa leans towards you, always keeping one careful eye on the others. Making sure neither of you are drawing attention to yourself.

You nod, adjusting your voice to her level as you set down your glass. “Of course. Is something the matter?”

She gives a quick, short shake of her head. “No, not the matter. I was just curious–” You raise a brow at that, though you both know neither of you mean each other harm. “Curiosity is a dangerous trait for a Vestal.”

“Curiousity is a dangerous trait for any woman,” Severa whispers back, lowering her eyes onto the floor. You understand why. It is not easy to speak ill of something. It is simply not in your nature. It goes against the years of teaching you have sat through. “You brought the will of the General, did you not?”

You feel your cheeks heat slightly at the mention of Acacius and shift onto your side, hoping that the dim light inside the room hides the way your face flushes. “Yes. The first one I collected, actually.”

“You collect Generals now?”

Neither of you can successfully stifle the giggles that follow her question and you quickly bow your head, just as one of the older Vestals calls out to you. “If you are finished with your meal, please retire to your quarters and get some rest.” You both nod, whispering apologies into their direction as you stand up.

“I am to guard the flame tonight,” Severa adds softly and the other of the two women nods.

“Then you may take your fellow priestess to her quarters and head to the Temple after.” You mumble your good nights to the others, walking along the courtyard in silence. The noise of cicadas fills the night that has settled over the valley. When you stop outside the door to your cubiculum, you pause. “Why did you ask about the General?”

For a moment, you think Severa will not answer, her shoulders shrugging slightly as if to dismiss her prior interest. “I heard some of the Senators speak of him. I merely wondered how he seemed to you.”

“Kind,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. He was kind to me.

Her brows furrow slightly but then she nods, giving you a gentle smile. “I better go and not leave the others waiting. Bonam noctem.”

“Bonam noctem,” you repeat quietly. A few moments later, you pull your door closed behind you and begin to undress. When you crawl into the bed placed near the far end of the room, your mind is already distracted and you allow your thoughts to slip out of the small window and rush up the hill. They settle between a field of lavender and wait for a light to appear in one of the windows of the house, just as you extinguish yours.

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[bull-at-the-gate]

Sehkmet the Just. Devoted Paladin of The Lord of the North Wind; The Wyrmking; King of Good Dragons; The Platinum Dragon Bahamut

More silly Tavs. haha can we tell that I started out drawing animals and have for way longer than I’ve drawn people?

Sehkmet’s an Oath of Vengeance Paladin and always keeps her word, or will die in the attempt.

I imagine she’s been resurrected once before after falling in battle against the cult of Tiamat.

She devoted her life to serving as an instrument for Bahamut’s vengeance after losing her clan to followers of Tiamat as a wee cub.

So she’s very devout, but also gets to be a whole himbo, as a treat. She and Hollow (my durge) would ask together with full earnestness ‘what animal is the pink panther’ and Sehkmet would probably forget after a week.

Some Headcanon-y Things

Heals by giving lil’ forehead kisses and will absolutely not tolerate anyone hiding injuries, she’s lost too many a good ally to let that slide.

Helps with cooking by prepping the food so Gale has a little less work to do; Can freeze food for later too

White Dragonborn are more adapt for the cold, so Sehkmet’s got a thick downy fur, ideal for cuddling; everyone has slept with at least once for the best platonic cuddles (maybe minus Lae’zel until much later)

Has no idea what a shirt is, not really, but she prefers to go without when resting. Only somewhat understands modesty, everything for Dragonborn is extremely internal so she understands in concept, but not necessarily for herself

Does laundry for everyone, finds the repetitiveness to be meditative and is particular about strong smells, so doing it is a win-win. Patches up any holes she finds too.

Fascinated by hair, loves to style it and learned how to when a few war clerics taught her to. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale all thought she was giving them *the look* but she just wanted to play with and style their hair.

I need to practice muscular bodies a bit, but she’s built like a seven-foot tall truck and hits like a train.

Can only see out of one eye, lost total use of her right one while training to join her order but the vision had been failing most of her life.

She was a secret fan of *The Blade of Frontiers* before meeting Wyll because she’d heard he also only had one functioning eye and was still able to be a champion of the people.

did not, however, realize she was older than him. She’s still a fan.

Spends at least one evenings each tenday polishing and caring for the party’s armor, after proving to Lae’zel she did an acceptable enough job to be entrusted hers as well.

Scarily fast, especially out of her armor. She was too slow, once, to save a cleric who’d trusted her to be their shield. She’d vowed to never be too slow again, and she always keeps her word.

Offers mercy and a second chance unless it’s been proven to her that a beaten enemy won’t do better; She follows Bahamut’s own words on the matter, no justice without mercy and no penance without forgiveness

Would probably be a theater kid

Spars with Lae’zel and Karlach on the regular in camp. I like the idea that Dragonborn can replace teeth but it’s not common knowledge yet, so it’s funny to picture:

Karlach knocking out a couple teeth and being extremely apologetic and starts looking for the teeth

Sehkmet’s just confused because she’s assumed her whole life everyone’s teeth regrow and is confused why Karlach’s dragging Shadowheart over with her old teeth asking if she can put them back.

Lae’zel is amused (Gith definitely would also be able to regrow teeth, selectively bred warrior race and all) and uses the moment for one of her lovely little Githyanki supremacy tangents.

Sehkmet is just standing there, staring at the horizon in concern, like ‘You all don’t regrow teeth?!’ and thinking about how many belated apologies she needs to make

Karlach is still holding bloody teeth

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are fighting (flirting) again

Astarion is over by the cookout bugging Gale and watching the show

Gale and Wyll are still thinking at least they’re normal

the Emperor is still imploring you to eat a tadpole.

[soliloquent-stark]

Hi, would you have any baby's first Stony fic recs for a stucky shipper?? Like I want to read Stony but literally have no idea where to start or how to get there without feeling like "wait, where's Bucky?" if that makes any sense

Tysmia!!

hi! congrats and welcome :) i want you to know i am taking this task very seriously! i am a big bucky lover so i don't read bucky bashing fics anyways, so pretty much any rec of mine is okay from that sense, but i understand the difficulty in switching ships or having your fav absent.

so, i thought the best way to get acquainted with stevetony would be to read fics that contain bucky, or past stucky, or focus on learning about tony from steve's pov (since i assume you're most familiar with his perspective and character, so then you can fall in love with tony together). i also added some stuckony ones in case that's your cup of tea, but feel free to skip those. 💕

ps. almost all these are mcu, but let me know if you want comics/au recs too. but overall, for more recs, you can check this tag.

music by @treesramblings

Steve turns seventy-five today. Tony has a special plan in place to show Steve a happy birthday.

I used to use liquor to get me inspired (but you look so beautiful) by @underwhelmingalchemist

Steve was used to Tony's flirting. It was weird and slightly annoying, but it was just part of who he was. It was always surface-level compliments, comments on his ass and thighs, teasing him about his "pretty face". But when he was drunk, those comments turned to something sweeter and much more genuine.

more after the cut

Triple Espresso by @festiveferret

Everything is going great for Steve. He loves his boyfriend, his apartment, his pets. He finally has some opportunities to share his artwork, the coffee shop he manages is doing well, and Bucky is about to finish his exams, which means no more night shifts. It finally feels like life is on track. And then Tony Stark walks into the cafe and everything goes off the rails.

5 Times Bucky Thought Tony Was Good For Steve +1 Time He Told Him by Anonymous

To say Bucky is unimpressed by Stark would be an understatement. It isn’t that he dislikes him. It’s more that he’s a brand of indifferent that curdles with disdain on the rare occasion that Bucky catches him on the TV: Stark is glib and crass in a way his father never was, and he wears suits like he’d slipped out of the womb clad in Armani. So it’s a surprise when Bucky moves into the Tower and finds that Steve actually gets along with the guy.

some words build houses in your throat by only_more_love

The night before they travel back in time, Tony says what he needs to say.

A Partial Dictionary Of The 21st Century By Captain Steve Rogers, US Army by @copperbadge

Steve is adapting well to the new millennium, and he has the dictionary to prove it.

Equilateral by FestiveFerret

It was the way Steve had said, “I found him,” the desperate, agonized hope, that had Tony replying with, “Bring him home,” without any hesitation. But now, now he was hesitating like fuck.

felt with your two hands by @ishipallthings

Steve lets out an exasperated huff. “It’s just, I can’t shave.” It’s such a small thing to be upset about, and yet here he is, fighting the urge to tear his bandages just to look clean-shaven again. One glance at Tony shows that he’s surprised by Steve’s admission, eyes now fixed on the days-old scruff covering the bottom half of Steve’s face. (In which Tony helps Steve with shaving, and the close proximity leads to so much more than either of them anticipated.)

Feels Like Home by @tinystark616

Steve thinks there must be something fundamentally wrong with him when adjusting to his new life seems scarier than fighting an army of aliens. He knows how to fight. He's excellent at it. What he doesn't know is how to feel like he belongs in the future.

Catching Up Fast by Catchclaw, Crowgirl

Tony doesn't see the other guy coming, is the thing. Best mistake of his life.

everybody needs some affection by @meidui

It's for Steve's sake, Tony tells himself as he befriends Bucky. (But then it isn't.)

last call by @gottalovev

Tony didn’t prepare for Steve calling first. It's been thirteen months, why now?

Operation: Knuckleheads by FestiveFerret

Bucky is enjoying his new, post-Winter Soldier life at Avengers Tower, until he discovers that the constant tension between Steve and Tony was caused by a recent (and mysterious) breakup. Determined to make his friends happy, Bucky gives himself a new mission: figure out what went wrong, and get these two idiots in love back together again.

[gugugyuu]

clingy bonus part three/oneshot ੈ𑁍 ༘⋆📚🎀

a/n: probably the cutest one!

You always knew how to hide your feelings.

Even though you'd fallen for Beomgyu, you kept it under wraps for a long time. You were careful with your words, the way you looked at him, even how you touched him.

It wasn't like you were playing hard to get it was more like you were afraid of showing just how much you cared because you didn't expect him to fall for you too, at least not at first.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, things changed. Beomgyu saw through your walls, and just like that, you were no longer the only one with feelings hidden under the surface.

And now... well, now things are different.

You two had been officially together for a few months, and the shift in your relationship had been subtle but undeniable.

Beomgyu had always been affectionate, but now it was like he couldn't get enough of you. He was clingier, always close by, his hand resting on your thigh when you were sitting together, his arm wrapped around your waist when you stood.

The kisses, God, the kisses. They are everywhere. In the hallways between classes, in the cafeteria when no one was watching, on the couch when you were just watching a movie.

Right now, he was beside you on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder as you scrolled through your phone. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved it.

"I think I like this movie," you said, glancing down at him.

"Mhm, I like it too," he mumbled, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. "You're not even watching."

"I'm watching you," he said with a playful grin, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to your neck. "You're way more interesting."

You couldn't stop the smile that broke out on your face. Beomgyu was like this now, always kissing you, always finding some excuse to be close to you.

He moved so that his body was half draped over yours, his face nestled into the crook of your neck. His lips left soft, lingering kisses along your skin as he snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Beomgyu," you whispered, gently pushing him back so you could look at him.

"Hmm?" His eyes were half-lidded, and he had that goofy, contented smile on his face.

"You're being clingy," you teased, though you secretly loved it.

He let out a dramatic sigh, resting his forehead against yours. "What can I say? I just love you too much."

You rolled your eyes again, but it was more out of affection than annoyance. "You always say that."

"I mean it every time," he murmured, his hand reaching up to cup your face. His thumb traced over your lips, and before you could respond, he kissed you.

It was gentle at first, soft, but then he deepened it, leaning into you as his hands roamed to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You felt your heart flutter in your chest as he kissed you with a quiet urgency, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

When Beomgyu pulled away, his eyes were darker, more intense. His breath was heavy, and there was a certain vulnerability in his gaze that made your chest tighten. "Beomgyu..."

"I'm sorry," he said, though his tone didn't sound apologetic at all. "I just... I can't help it. I need to be close to you."

You felt the weight of his words, his need for you, and it made your heart ache. This was the side of Beomgyu that only you got to see, the part of him that didn't hold back, the part that might've fell harder than you ever imagined.

He kissed you again, more desperately this time, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, if that was even possible. You didn't pull away, didn't fight it.

You'd fallen first, yes, but now, it felt like he was falling harder than you ever thought he would.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. "I love you," he whispered. You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words. "I love you too."

And for the first time in a long while, you didn't feel like you had to hide it anymore. Because Beomgyu had fallen for you, and he's not holding anything back.

a/n: she fell first but he fell harder.

<previous part> <back to masterlist>

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Six - Through the Haze

Part Five

———

There are some things in life that you don’t do, people you choose not to pick fights with and sayings you simply know to be true. There’s always a bigger fish, you can’t hit what your eyes don’t see, etc. One of those sayings is you shouldn’t fight pissed off organics, because they tend to go nuclear.

Most organics are ranked with a low danger level for the first few years of intergalactic relations, typically if a fight breaks out it is immediately raised. A little known fact, the organics of Earth were ranked a high danger level even before they reached their nearest satellite based on evidence that was scanned from space, it is entirely possible they have set off multiple nuclear arms on their own planet, potentially even against each other.

Fighting organics was stupid, they will win. Fighting humans was suicide.

—

Sunsteaker and Sideswipe came up from behind them, practically glowing from the overhead blaster fire, almost flying through the air as the haze cleared around them. Their visors were lit up bright, blades moving in synch to cleave the turret in half. Landing in the same instant, both light on their feet, standing together with chests lightly rising and falling as if breathing. Sunstreaker was the first to grab the shielding off the base and wedge it into the ground, offering a bit of cover, before Sideswipe did the same, “Move up!” Sunstreaker gestured towards where Hound and Breakdown were still providing covering fire.

There was still gun fire from overhead, but the barricade provided just enough cover to move up, Hound dove in and rested his back against it as Breakdown continued to lay down covering fire. His feet were braced as the shoulder cannon powered up even higher, exploding with covering fire. Hound shifted the grip on his own gun, checking over the scans and footage he got from the initial assault, “Do either of you know what we’re fighting?” There was an obvious answer, staring at the footage, but it couldn’t be true, “Looks like a couple mecha,” Sunstreaker was catching his breath still, “Maybe they had the same idea as us, to fight the freaks with the tentacles.” Sideswipe adds, also catching his breath, “Ready Sunny?” “When you are Sides.” They shared a brief glance before going over the barricade.

Hound, was still scanning the footage, hands shaking for a moment before he was up and firing at the logged targets. They were moving in the distance, trying to re-group, while Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took out another turret together. Watching them in battle was unlike anything else, moving entirely in synch as if both suits were manned by one pilot. But that was just the twins, as if the drift caught them both in the server and manifested them together.

It was time to focus, he needed to focus, Hound shook his head and steadied his hand while firing on the moving targets. Watching the land between them explode into shrapnel thanks to Breakdown’s cannon, “Watch out for the shrapnel you two!” Breakdown’s voice boomed over comms, the cannon slightly muffled by his microphone but still painfully loud, “We’ve got this old man, you just keep laying down the covering fire.” They even spoke together, “Stop being weird. Focus.” Hound’s voice cut in, full of determination as he was firing at the targets he couldn’t see, but his visual feeds picked up their heat signatures. Letting out a slow sigh, he fires again and one of the distant targets went down.

Throwing himself over the barricade, he follows the twins to the next turret, Hound’s breath slowing and heart rate leveling. Calm in the moment of the fight, his back slamming into the smoldering turret.

Sunstreaker cleaves what could best be described as an attack drone in half, Sideswipe doing the same before ducking back down behind some sort of machine, “Why do you think they’re attacking us?” The look spared by Sideswipe was hardly long enough to be a glance, “I don’t know, but we’ve got to show them who’s boss.” Sunstreaker smiles behind his visor, flicking his arms out with a practiced ease.

Breakdown was moving up the battle field, it already scarred from his barrage of attacks, sending rust particles everywhere. He was thankful for the filtration system in the suit, if it had even been bringing in outside oxygen. More thankful for the tanks of oxygen somewhere below his feet, each step was heavy as his feet flared out to balance the attack cannon on his shoulder, “Hound, what are we fighting here, my scanners are lacking.” “That’s not the only thing lacking,” Sunstreaker snorts, “I’m the one laying down the cover fire Sideswipe, I could misplace a shot.” “Communication is good guys, but keep it to the needed minimum.” Hound was in front of the twins now, moving much slower than the initial assault, the edge of the solar farm was within sight even in the haze. Whatever was firing on them was starting to retreat behind some structures.

“I think it’s fair to say that the artificial lights are in fact some sort of civilization.” Sunstreaker glances around the bit of cover he had, sighing slowly, “Oh really, you don’t say?” Sideswipe leaps over the over and cuts into something that shoots off a load of spark, a shot landing into his shoulder which sends him to the ground, “Damnit, I have to reroute my assist, cover me.” “Already on it.” Sunstreaker jumps over him and cleaves apart the blaster sticking out of the ground. Kicking away the remains and turning to shield his brother, taking a breath while the whine of a gun hummed nearby. He waited, before pouncing, cleaving through something that sprayed out bright pink fluid, “Oh gross!” Taking a partial steal back, Sunsteaker tries to clear his visual feed before getting an alert. Whatever he’d just gotten sprayed by, was incredibly toxic, “Shit!” Stumbling back, Sunstreaker wipes as much off as he can, Sideswipe finally regaining his feet and rushing over. Nearly colliding before reeling back, “What did they hit you with?” “It’s not eating through my plating, just don’t get it in your seems.” Taking a breath, Sunstreaker dove back into the fight with Sideswipe at his side. Both leaping into the air at the same time before coming down on another turret together, what had sprayed Sunstreaker left in the rusty haze.

The ground was looking less and less like a solar farm and more like a battle ground, from the mix of weapons on both sides. Hound was moving up as fast as he could, analyzing the data as it came in. It wasn’t right, none of it could be right because it wasn’t making any sense. There was a building a half klick to their south where they could re-group, swearing, Hound activated his comm, “We’re moving south to the warehouse, better there than being stuck in the open. Breakdown, we’ll provide your cover, move.” Taking a knee, Hound shifts his gun back to its typical hiding place before putting on its barrel attachment, bracing briefly as the shot changes from a bang to a boom, stock folding easily to his shoulder, “I didn’t know your gun could do that, did you know his gun could do that?” Sideswipe shouts at Sunstreaker, grabbing his shoulder and pointing, “Yes, now go be cannon fodder.” His brother shoves him towards the enemy fire.

Breakdown was the slowest of them all, his suit the oldest and the heaviest, it wasn’t even that large either. Not quite like the first generation suits. His shoulder cannon slide back across his back when he began to run, if it went off while he was moving it was likely to blow the shoulder of his suit apart. With the farthest distance to travel, he was the easiest target as the ground near his feet is peppered with explosions, “Some cover you all are.” His voice carried a bit, getting a rude gesture from Sunstreaker in return while his blades cut through another gun which folded from the ground, “This is a battle field of a million guns Breakdown, just get to cover.” Hound’s gun boomed in the distance, just out of Breakdown’s visual feeds radius. Grunting with effort, Breakdown pushes his suit to its top movement speed, eventually slamming through the wall of the warehouse.

—

The warehouse was full of conduits and energy storage, something typical for the coast of the rust sea, but entirely foreign for anyone who didn’t frequent the energy region on Cybertron.

—

Crashing onto the floor, Breakdown retreats to one of the far walls, trying to catch his breath as his cannon shifts back to his shoulder and hums back to life, “I’m in, building secure.”

Hound was still laying down covering fire, seeing multiple explosions through the haze and gloom that was lifting, he looks over his shoulder, “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, go next and prepare for movement into the, uh, town.” They both nodded and took off together, watching each others back. It left him alone in the solar panel field, which was taken down to rubble by the assault. Breathing heavily, Hound scans the distance again, before accepting the odds and getting up, sprinting for the warehouse.

—

Each of them fell into the building, the slight dip in the floor enough to throw them off, and crash to the floor in one way or another.

Sunstreaker landed on top of Sideswipe, the pink fluid splashing across his red paint from the yellow and Hound crashed into the far wall after them. Breakdown’s cannon continued to hum ominously. Sideswipe tossed his brother off of him with ease but stayed on the ground, catching his breath, “So, does everything in the universe want to kill us?” Sunstreaker hits Sideswipe over the head, “Can it. Hound, what do we do? We can’t go into a potentially inhabited area and just blow it up.” Back to the mission, always the mission, “If these things are smart enough to make suits, then they probably have a society, which means-“ “Innocent lives, I know Sunstreaker.” Hound was rubbing his face, gun resting in his lap now, “If we go back out there they’ll keep shooting at us even if we head back for the Odyssey.” “And she’s stuck on this planet regardless.” Sideswipe sits up, holding his chin, “So we’re stuck regardless.” His insight was not helpful.

They sat in silence for a minute, staring at each other and thinking, “We’ll have to go out there, we’re dead in here especially if we can’t get supplies from the Odyssey.” Hound shifted to sit back up, still rubbing at his face, a nervous habit he’d grown into, “Otherwise we’re just sitting ducks.” A pause before, “I don’t know that one.” Breakdown almost sounded sad, it was hard being the only guy without English as a first language in a group, especially one on a foreign planet who knows how far from home.

“What are we going to do or even say when we get out there?” Sunstreaker threw his hands up, entirely overwhelmed, “I don’t know, take me to your leader?” Breakdown chuckled even as Sunstreaker facepalmed. Sideswipe high fives Breakdown, grinning, “There we go, you got one in old man.” Even as they chuckled, there was a light bit of static coming in over comms. Hound glanced up, then around at the slight change, even as the others kept talking the logistics of, invading an alien planet literally. Though references to movies were entirely frequent in the conversation. Hound’s visual feeds switched back over to scan all available view types, frowning at the lack of signatures nearby.

Minutes ticked by, while Sideswipe settled into eating a protein bar as Sunstreaker and Breakdown talked the logistics, Hound was staring intently in one direction, “Someone’s listening to us, or watching us, maybe both.” His voice was low and off comms, just coming out his external speakers at a low volume. Sideswipe started to choke on his food, “You can’t be serious, we just got out of that fight, we can’t get into another one.” Sunstreaker was quick to smack him and motion to be quiet. Then they all could hear the added static, “There it is.” Sunstreaker paused before looking to Hound, “Do we want them to take us to their leader?” It wasn’t a joke now though, Hound held up a hand and activated his comm again, “We don’t want a fight. Just answers.” He waited as the static lowered in volume.

—

There was a rushing of sound over their comms system, Hound winces, the twins shouted, and Breakdown swore before a voice cued on, “English?” It was very monotone and not even remotely human like, certainly didn’t sound like someone who actually spoke English, Hound held up a hand for quiet before speaking into his own microphone, “Maybe, whose asking?” There was another long delay, followed by a quieter burst of static, then, “Prowl.” Hound kept his hand raised to keep the crew of Arcturus One quiet, “Well, uh, Prowl. How do you know English?” This time there was almost no delay or burst of static, “Jazz.” Then line went dead.

———

A/N

I know, I’m sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger, it was either do that or not get this posted till much later than I wanted. I wanted this out easier but the day before thanksgiving is always crazy around my place.

I hope to have another part out to you guys tomorrow, but we’ll see, I didn’t get much done for my LSAT studying today so I might have to recoup the time unfortunately.

To all the lovely people who have been re-blogging, commenting, etc on my posts, thank you so much. It’s meant so much to me to see people enjoying it so much.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces

I never thought in a million years I would be writing like this, it’s actually insane. Thank you all so much.

[violetwitchmcu]

All I Ask | j.w.

"Just this, no promises, no expectations. Just us—before everything changes."

wonwoo x reader // cw: slight angst, kissing // not proofread

🎸a/n: I was listening to music and all I ask came on and immediately ran to write this. grab your tissues you may cry.

PLAY ‘ALL I ASK’ BY ADELE WHILE READING

Y/N had been trying so hard not to think about it, trying not to let the tears fall. She didn’t want to cry tonight. Not now, not when everything they had was slipping through her fingers like sand. But the sadness, the finality of it all, had already seeped into her heart, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop it from breaking.

She took a step toward him, her voice trembling. "Wonwoo…"

His gaze lifted, his eyes dark with emotion. It was the first time tonight that he had looked at her like this—so vulnerable, so uncertain, like he, too, was struggling to find the right words.

"I don’t want to say goodbye," Y/N whispered, choking on the words. "I don’t want this to be the last time we’re together. I don’t want to let you go."

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. His silence seemed like the only thing he could offer in return. He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers gently, as if afraid to break the fragile moment they shared.

"You don’t have to say goodbye yet," he said, his voice rough, like it was fighting to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "Let’s just have tonight. Let me have tonight with you."

Her heart ached at his words. She knew what he meant. Tomorrow, he would leave for his mandatory military service, and everything would change. They both knew that. But right now, all she could hold on to was this last night together, before time and distance stretched between them, making everything feel farther away than it ever had before.

"All I’m asking," she whispered, stepping closer until her body was just inches from his, "is one last night with you. Just this, no promises, no expectations. Just us—before everything changes."

Wonwoo closed his eyes for a moment, his breath shaking. He had been trying so hard to stay strong, but he couldn’t help it—he was terrified. Terrified of what was coming. Terrified of losing her, even if it was just for a little while.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow. "I’m scared, too," he admitted quietly. "I’m scared of what’s coming. But right now… I’m here. And I want you to know, no matter what happens, I’ll always carry this night with me. I'll carry you with me."

She closed her eyes, letting the words wash over her. It was the promise of something that could never be, but it was the best they could do. She reached up to touch his face, brushing her fingers against the side of his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch.

"Just tonight," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let me have this. Please."

Wonwoo’s breath caught, and then, as if in surrender, he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow, tender, like he was trying to memorize every detail of her—the way her lips felt against his, the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair. The kiss deepened, and for a brief moment, everything else disappeared. There was no military service, no uncertainty about the future—just the feeling of being completely present, together.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Y/N rested her forehead against his, her eyes closing as the tears she had held back finally fell.

"Tomorrow…" she started, but her voice broke, and she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Wonwoo held her tighter, his arms wrapping around her as if he could shield her from the inevitable. "Tomorrow doesn’t matter. Not tonight. Tonight, we have each other. No goodbyes. Just this moment. Just us."

And so, they held each other through the night, the world outside fading into nothingness. No more words were needed, only the quiet, unspoken promise that they would carry this memory, this last night together, into the uncertain future that lay ahead.

When the sun rose the next morning, Y/N knew they would have to say goodbye, but tonight would always be theirs—a night without promises, but full of love. Just as she had asked.

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

fallout (pt. 4)

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you work with skz in chernobyl. everything is fine....until it isn't.

tags/warnings: gruesome and horrific material, explosions, gory kind of? sorry if i missed anything.... still putting it together.

a/n: guysss skz is coming to my city! the tickets sold out in 12 hours tho lmao its in june?? but the resale tickets are CHEAP like 60 dollars lol! gonna see if i will get one

btw im thinking of continuing without you!! im just continue from where i last was....hopefully yall can put the pieces together 😭😭 sorry yall

also sorry this is so short...i feel terrible for getting minho like this 😔

The stale air of the meeting room weighs heavy, thick with tension and the faint metallic tang of burnt metal. You've barely slept since the explosion, the haunting imagery of flames and debris seared into your mind. But there's no time for rest. Not when Minho’s condition worsens with every passing hour.

You sit at the edge of the cot in the medical tent, staring at his pallid face. His breaths come shallow, his lips a faint grayish tint. It’s hard to reconcile this fragile figure with the Minho you know—the sarcastic, sharp-eyed man who always seemed untouchable. The radiation doesn’t care about invincibility.

“His temperature’s still climbing,” Chan murmurs beside you. His voice is hoarse, cracked at the edges from days of barking orders and endless meetings. “The doctors... they don’t know what else to do.”

You glance at him, searching for even a flicker of reassurance, but all you see is the weight of guilt on his shoulders. You hate that he blames himself. None of this is his fault.

Minho stirs, his eyelids fluttering weakly. "You guys..." His voice is barely audible, a shadow of its usual self. "Stop... hovering. It's annoying."

You laugh softly despite the tears burning your eyes. “Shut up, Minho. You’re lucky we’re here.”

His lips twitch into the faintest ghost of a smile before his face contorts in pain. He grips your hand tightly, and you can feel the tremor in his fingers. “Promise me...” His words trail off as another wave of agony overtakes him.

You swallow hard. “What?”

“Promise me you’ll figure out what caused this. Make them pay for it.”

The sheer resolve in his tone makes your chest tighten. “I promise,” you whisper, gripping his hand back just as tightly. “But you’re not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together.”

Chan steps forward, his jaw set. “I’ll talk to the others. We need to find out how much exposure we all had. If it’s worse than they’re letting on...” His words trail off, but the implication is clear.

“Chan...” Your voice cracks. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He turns to you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief, heart-wrenching moment. “I have to. If I don’t, who will?”

Back at the command post, you find Felix poring over blueprints and diagrams of the reactor. He looks up as you enter, his face pale but determined. “There’s something wrong with the data they’re giving us,” he says, pointing to the charts. “The exposure levels they reported—they’re way lower than they should be.”

“How much lower?” you ask, your heart sinking.

“Enough that it looks intentional,” Felix replies grimly. “They’re covering up the severity of the leak.”

Chan exhales sharply through his nose, pacing the room like a caged tiger. “We need to act fast. If they’re lying, there could be more people at risk.”

As the pieces begin to fall into place, you realize the scale of what you’re up against. This isn’t just about an accident—it’s a fight against time, deception, and an invisible enemy that’s already wreaking havoc on the people you care about.

And Minho is running out of time.

[bthump]

I see a lot of people acting like Guts was so good to Casca when he admitted he just wanted a side chick. Reading the manga it felt that she was unimportant to him, someone to fuck and throw to the side. Even when he was trying to be there for her it felt so...forced. Like he didn't want to be there at all, why do you think that is?

I think it's a combination of Miura deliberately writing it as a flawed attempt at a relationship in terrible circumstances between two fucked up people that was always kind of a mistake, and like, probably some bad writing as well lol.

Like I think it's supposed to at least come across as sweet and earnest and hopeful at the time. A genuine connection between Guts and Casca. Miura has said in an interview that he wrote their relationship to add more drama to the Eclipse, so presumably the audience is meant to root for them to an extent, so that the Eclipse rape can make the reader even more angry lol.

But I don't think it was ever intended to be true love or even necessarily a good idea on the parts of the characters. When Guts invites Casca along he directly says she might get in the way of what he wants to do (fight strong opponents) so his invitation is conditional. This actually foreshadows Guts abandoning her in a cave to go and fight monsters, because she does get in his way.

Casca also cries when Guts fights Wyald and afterwards tells him to die on his own if he's so insistant about it, so even if she hadn't gone insane she probably would've gotten in the way of his dream to throw himself into danger over and over anyway lol.

On the rescue mission they start getting jealous as they get closer to Griffith. They essentially break up right before the Eclipse starts, Casca telling Guts to leave to pursue his dream while she stays with Griffith.

Judeau puts a lot of energy into trying to get them to hook up and leave together, and it's strongly implied that it's because he doesn't feel like he deserves Casca himself and he wants what he thinks is best for her. But when he dies he regrets never telling Casca about his feelings, and Casca even has a little romantic moment with him after he saves her life, which echoes the way she falls for Griffith and then Guts when they save her life.

And it's kind of jarring when she's already hooked up with the protagonist of the story, and certainly suggests that her relationship with Guts is not exactly all-consuming for them. It's realistically unromantic.

Post-Eclipse, Casca is framed as Guts' responsibility that pulls him away from the more visceral temptation to go after Griffith. And this causes him to nearly kill Casca, and then nearly rape her.

When Casca gets her mind back but can't look at him, Guts swings his sword in frustration and restlessness and thinks about Griffith's intense gaze from across a field. After she gets kidnapped, Guts only seems to care that his sword couldn't hit Griffith.

I could go on lol, but basically there are so many deliberate details that point to Guts and Casca's relationship being intended not as super romantic, but rather a more realistic hookup that isn't necessarily a net positive for either of them. And I do think that's what Miura intended, to a greater or lesser degree. I'm sure it was meant to be somewhat genuine and sweet, but I think they're ultimately shown to be incompatible and like, a trainwreck overall.

And yeah, a lot of Guts' shitty treatment of Casca is definitely deliberate, since after the Eclipse he does abandon her, and later attacks and assaults her, and she's currently traumatized by not just Femto and monsters, but also him.

I've actually written a ton of posts about their relationship and its flaws, so I'll link some in case you're interested in more detailed takes:

This is probably one of the best posts I've written about them imo, about how Judeau and Guts' relationships to Casca are compared and contrasted to highlight some of Guts' flaws.

Guts and Casca's hook up being paralleled to Griffith and Charlotte's hook up in terms of both men trying to repress their feelings about the other.

How Judeau's manipulations reflect on Guts and Casca's relationship.

Visual parallels during the Guts + Casca sex scene that suggest they're both rebounding from Griffith.

My take on Guts wanting to earn Casca's affection in ch 33.

Guts and Casca's relationship as a mistake that contributes to the Eclipse happening.

Guts and Casca's hook up failing to have an impact.

A long list of moments that contradict Guts and Casca's relationship as particularly romantic.

Thanks for the ask!

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

I've only watched the first 5 episodes and I'm obsessed! I am convinced that there is no part Jesse Lee Soffer can play that I won't love. I went to binge on some content for him and couldn't find anything (Big sad). So, I had to make sure he had at least one story. I'm still learning his character so this is probably not perfect.

Wes Mitchell Key 

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking. The relationship wasn’t new but had been long since the beginning. Now you were standing in front of his apartment door, one travel-on bag thrown over your shoulder. You had jet lag from the flight all you wanted was a hot shower and any flat surface to sleep on.  

But now standing here anxiety twisted in your stomach clawing its way up your throat. You reached in your pocket pulling out a key. It felt heavy as lead in your palm and caught the light in the shine of the new metal. You had never used it before and half wondered if it would even really work in the lock. 

You and Wes had been officially together for eight months after steadily talking for three. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wes had trust issues. He didn’t talk about his childhood much, but the random snit bits that he had shared you knew it had been on the rougher side. He was slow to trust and despite his apparent mastery at reading suspects needed blunt direct talks to know where he stood in his personal relationships. 

You two hadn’t seen each other in person more than a handful of times. It had forced a strong foundation built on communication and genuinely enjoying the other company as opposed to falling into bed together because it was easy and lonely. Wes had openly admitted that he tended to do that in a lot of his previous relationships because he “wasn’t good alone”.  

It had been a major red flag and forcing you to keep the pace slow. He was charming, funny, and incredibly good looking and you didn’t want to get your heartbroken.

It didn’t stop you from falling in love with him.

Neither of you had uttered those words yet. Wes didn’t seem like the type to make that proclamation without meaning it and you didn’t want to back him into a corner. 

The feeling of him keeping parts of his life separate from you had caused more than one fight. It always happened in the same pattern. You would bring it up, he would acknowledge that he did it and promise to try harder to be more open. For a while, he would and it would get better but he always seemed to hide behind that last layer of protection. His reflex to protect himself at any cost. You loved him and tried to be patient with what he was working through but the pattern was incredibly frustrating.  

The last one had stuck pretty well. When he came for a week's visit, he had given you his key. He hadn’t said it but you knew it was his way of showing how much he trusted you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had been an empty attempt to appease you. After all who would go across the country to actually use the key?  

You had only been to his apartment in Budapest once and he came to see you three times. When you met him, you didn’t even have a passport. While seeing each other hadn’t been frequent, the sex was always absolutely mind-blowing. 

Now you felt like quite the hypocrite as you had been hiding your own struggles from him. Things had gotten so bad, so overwhelming at home that you had packed a bag and paid for a flight on a whim. You couldn’t even remember if you packed underwear. Your brain had been like watching static on a TV and it was only halfway through the flight that you remembered that Wes wasn’t even home. He was currently in the Netherlands.  

You felt a gaze fall heavy on you. You look over your shoulder to see a man watching you stand in front of the door holding a key and making no attempt to open it for way longer than necessary. You scrabbled to put the key in the lock and let out a grateful yet slightly surprised breath of relief as the key twisted in the lock butter smooth. 

A glance back showed the man's suspicions seemed settled as he headed down the hall. Then you remembered the alarm and rushed in to type in the password letting your bag carelessly fall to the ground with a heavy thunk. You watch in anticipation after typing the code in. Wes would be the type to constantly change his code but the light turned blissfully green.  

You turned around to see the almost obsessively neat living room. It had a modern feel but it felt only half lived in like Wes hadn’t completely moved in even though he had been living there for over a year now. It looked exactly the same as when you had been there last. The only difference is the lack of pillows and blankets thrown on and over the couches. It was clear that he had done that for your comfort when you had been staying there.  

You stared blankly into the space. Should you call Wes to let him know you have invaded his home? A yawn forced itself from you and your exhaustion came over you in another harsh demanding wave. It had been over a 12-hour flight and you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Thoughts of calling Wes were easily forgotten with the promise of sleep.  

You walk into his room and are washed in the scent of his cologne and aftershave still barely clinging to the enclosed space. It brought a soft comfort to you. A tease of his embrace. You paused thinking about how awful you must smell and all the germs you had no doubt gotten from the shared space of the airport and then the plane. Your fickle mind had you turning on your heel to the shower turning the water hot.  

As you rinsed off you noticed the only product that Wes had was a 3-in-1 body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You didn’t even have it in you to care as you scrubbed yourself down with it only unconsciously noticing how awful it made your hair feel. You dried off sparing only the bare minimum amount of time towel-drying your mess of tresses before climbing into his bed. You sank into it with a sigh cocooning yourself in his blankets and before you could think twice you were out like a light. 

Wes entered his apartment quietly. Resetting his alarm before heading to the bedroom. He set his bag down gently as he headed to the bed. He sitting beside you brushing the still damp and tangled tresses off your face. You barely moved still deep in sleep. His eyes analyze you worriedly before leaning down and dropping a soft kiss on your forehead. 

Wes had been gathering his things when his phone had chimed alerting him that someone was at his door. He glanced briefly at his phone thinking it might be a person walking too close to his door or a package arriving he had forgotten he ordered. He had done a double-take when he realized it was you. You hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping by.  

He thought maybe it was a surprise visit. It had been a while since you had seen each other in person. The long flight explained why he couldn’t reach you the last few times he had called. He quickly dismissed that notion. You knew he was still in the Netherlands doing a job and he had given you no idea of when he would be back because he hadn’t known himself. If that wasn’t enough there was your slumped posture, hair thrown haphazardly up in a messy bun with thick chunks of hair escaping, only one carry-on bag thrown over your shoulder. He could feel your exhaustion through the screen, not the excitement you usually had when finally getting to see him again. 

He had watched with growing concern as you just stood at his front door with the key in your hand. You stood that way for so long that he thought his video might have frozen. It stung when he realized it was indecision. He had silently willed you to open the door but still you stood unmoving.  

His stomach clenched with guilt. It was his fault that you were hesitating. You had told him you felt like he had a life he didn’t want you to know. That he always had his walls up. He knew the truth and accepted the burden of trying to fix it. He thought he had been doing a good job and that it wasn’t a big deal.  

Watching you fight with yourself if you were truly welcome in his home or if you would be invading it spoke louder than your words ever could. They cut deeper too. Far past the walls that he had spent his life building. He was just about to call you and tell you to go inside when your head whipped backward clearly startled by something. Then you turned back with purpose and put the key in the lock. It didn’t give him the relief he was hoping for. You hadn’t chosen to go in, you had been pushed too. How long would you have stood there without that nudge? 

The flight home was short but it felt long. His mind was in fix-it mode and whirling with what was the right thing to do when he got home. He wanted to talk to you about your relationship. There was nothing more he wanted than you being around. How deeply he cared for you. He wanted to know what that hesitation meant to you about your relationship because he knew what it meant to him. 

Even though Wes desperately wanted that to be the first thing he did. He knew it wasn’t the right one. He needed to find the underlying cause of what would cause you to spontaneously fly across the country. What had happened? And how did it build up that fast? Hadn’t he just talked to you a few days ago? You had been a little quiet but it had been late your time so he hadn’t thought much of it. Had he missed something so major? How long had whatever it was really been going on? 

Wes tried to suppress his worry not wanting to alert the team that you were there until he knew what was going on. He knew an attempt to run when he saw it, he had done it enough himself. When the group had asked if he wanted to get some drink before they had all returned home, he had feigned tiredness. He had beelined for his home. 

Wes smoothed the blankets over you gently, considering his options. He sighed deeply standing up. You looked vulnerable and small twisted in the blankets and curled up into a ball. You were in a deep sleep. You had barely moved since he had walked in. It wasn’t worth waking you up.   

[unknownarmageddon]

back to back

Killer belongs to Rahafwabas Cross belongs to Jael Peñaloza

[sysig]

Promises promises (Patreon)

[barkingangelbaby]

I feel like such a broken fucking person lol

I talked way too much in the tags don't read them

[hauntingblue]

Skypiea time

Robin saying that because I know she only got on a ship to then leave it...

Nami sees Conis and gets sanji out of there so SHE can talk to her akdhksajka not a single second lost

Hello my favourite panel of nami maybe ever

Sillies...

CHOPPER YOU ARE THE CUTEST

Robin throws this guy off a cliff and to make just to make sure she breaks his neck too akdjsksk who is doing it like her???

OMG ACE!!!! IT IS TIME!!!!