#and now I will sleep for a thousand years

[prince-septimus]

calm mornings

pairing : robert reynolds x reader

summary : just two lonely people learning of a thing called affection.

word count : 1.5k

You find yourself staring at him often -- the man with the power of a thousand suns. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of the power he wields because when you see him occasionally sitting in the little corner he's created with books surrounding him and an overlook of New York to add on, you forget the events of a few months ago when the city fell to shadows.

When you see Bob now, all you see is the softness he carries with him, the comfort he brings even after years of not having it for himself. How could someone who has been through so much manage to continue on with such a soft heart?

You guessed the same could be said for the whole team. The ruined assassins who spent part of their lives being brainwashed and tortured. The super soldiers who never did quite reach their potential, and spent their entire lives dwelling on it. The experiments and the suffering and the darkness that the rest of you had endured. The whole team had that in common, and it was something you thought made you better than the Avengers.

The Thunderbolts were a family.

(You always were fond of the nickname, even after having to put that 'A' on your uniform.)

Maybe that's why you would find yourselves gathered late into the night, recapping missions and watching shitty 80s movies. Maybe that was what you all needed to keep the nightmares and dark thoughts away. You all had done bad things, unforgivable things, and yet you could still find yourselves together on a Saturday night fighting over who got the last slice of pizza and picked the next movie.

It was one of those nights you woke up early after. You had only been asleep for a few hours, but the weekends were sometimes a little more peaceful, almost like the job followed that weekday schedule you remembered from school. It was nice sometimes to get up early and drink coffee in a corner somewhere while the sun was still rising. Usually you were left alone during that time.

This morning you were not alone.

The coffee machine is still dripping the last dregs into the pot when you hear his quiet footsteps. The others had tried to convince you to get a better coffee pot -- one of the ones with a million buttons that made all sorts of espresso drinks and could add different things. You're sure that sort of appliance was here when the building belonged to Tony Stark, but you liked your tried and true, traditional pot. Even if it was a bit loud.

"Made enough for two?"

Bob's voice is still full of sleep. You wonder if he actually fell asleep or just dozed like he did sometimes. He had seemed tired towards the end of the last movie, after everyone had began to settle down, and you hoped that meant he at least got a good few hours in.

You smile gently at him as he pads over to lean against the counter. "I always make a full pot. You know that."

You hadn't bothered with the lights, preferring the soft glow that had started to enter the space as the sun began to rise beyond the windows. You enjoyed this time in the morning, when everything was still quiet and calm. You wondered if he preferred it too.

He leans over you to reach in the cabinet above, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. He looks cozy in his sweater and soft lounge pants, the thick socks on his feet silencing his movements on the floor -- though you wonder how he sleeps like that at night, the layers of fabric confining him in his sleep.

Maybe it makes him feel safe.

"Can you grab the creamer from the fridge?" you ask, beginning to fill each cup from the pot. You leave a bit of space in each mug for the added components you both enjoy.

Everything is so still as you watch Bob stroll across the kitchen, grabbing the required item before padding back towards you. He gives you a small smile as you finish off both cups of coffee before handing his to him.

He cradles it in his hands as he looks at you. "You're up early."

"I always am." You take a sip, careful not to burn your tongue. "Any bad dreams?"

He shakes his head. "The nightmares aren't as frequent now. It's been easier."

Your mind goes back to when all of you first moved into the tower. It was the easiest way to go about things, being listed as the New Avengers. You all were in close proximity when needed, and even though Bob currently didn't go on missions, he still was around and had his own room just like everyone else. He liked to keep the place put together and cleaned up when the rest of you didn't have the time to. He told you once that it was because he finally had the motivation to do it after years of being in a daze.

You had been to his room several times over the months. It had become almost as familiar as your own to you, with books covering every surface.

(Most of them finished, as Bob did not like to buy a new one until he finished the previous.)

The nightmares were immediate in the beginnings of Bob's stay. It didn't come as a surprise. All of you had your own demons, as proven by the Void months ago, but something told you being stuck in his nightmares was a whole different beast.

You didn't want him to go through that alone.

It had started slow, you keeping him company on those nights. You couldn't stop the nightmares, but you could offer a break from them, an ease of the conscious. At some point it had transitioned into the sleeping in the room together, still keeping each other company but finally taking advantage of that much needed sleep when you both felt it coming on.

Then it turned into sleeping in the same bed. That was after one really bad night. Neither of you were sure what brought the nightmares on so strongly, but they hit you both and you ended up in each other's arms, begging the bad dreams to leave you be.

Eventually they did, and eventually you never left.

It wasn't exactly a relationship -- you weren't sure either of you were ready to label it as such, or even fully address that as an option. The signs were there, very much so, cradled in those shared nights and castaway nightmares, but the trauma bond was clear and neither of you wanted to base your entire future off of that.

"I didn't notice you leave the bed."

You grin. "You never do. You sleep like a log when you're peaceful." Another sip. "But seriously, no bad dreams after I got up?"

Sometimes when you were away on missions and Bob found himself alone in the bed, those nightmares came back. Sometimes he'd call you. Sometimes he wouldn't.

"Nothing. It was nice."

His hair falls into his eyes when he dips his head down to take a drink from his mug. He had got it cut after everyone moved into the Tower, a small trim to hold him over and to appease everyone as his hair got just a bit too shaggy. You liked it -- the length on top and the short bits on the side -- and thought it suited him better than what he awoke with in that room where he had been stored away.

You reach up to run your hand through it, Bob leaning into your touch. Your fingers slide across his short curls, gently straightening the bed head out.

Bob reaches up to cradle your hand in his, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm.

The kisses were a more recent thing, a testing of the boundaries. You and Bob had both gone without a real sort of relationship for so long that a lot of things were practically a new thing, an experiment. It was a way for you both to see how far you wanted to take things, and so far neither of you had said to stop.

"Got plans today?" you ask, careful not to let your coffee spill in your grasp as you push against him, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

A soft smile just for you. "Nothing that involves going out anywhere."

You scoff. "You never go out anyway."

"Not ready for that just yet."

You pull softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. "Wanna go watch a movie?"

He leans to brush a kiss to your cheek. "That all you want to do?"

You let out a laugh, pulling back from him when his lips run across your ear. His free arm snakes behind you and pulls you back to him. A few drops of coffee splatter between the two of you. "There's always more we can be doing."

"Nothing we don't want to, of course."

You smile wide as his arm squeezes your waist. "Of course."

[hedwig221b]

Howdy di Hedwig, any chance you got some sub drop Stiles and aftercare? Would be swell, thanks!

I didn't find a lot, but here's what I have

Even Forbidden Fruits Get Picked by flitterflutterfly

When Stiles’ best friend gets himself bitten by a rogue werewolf, Stiles convinces him to seek aide from the local pack. Stiles tags along, ready to help Scott despite the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be welcome. After all, Doms rarely ever approved of Stiles and he thought the Hales would be no exception. So he was surprised to find that not only had the rogue seemed to develop some kind of creepy fascination with him, the young alpha wolf, Derek, seemed to want him as well.

Said Sleeping Beauty To The Big Bad Wolf

The guy zeroes in on him with such intense focus that Derek kind of wants to run away, or maybe drown in those eyes, or maybe wrap the guy up in cotton and protect him from everything forever. Instead, wracked with indecision and overstimulation, his brain just shuts off. He doesn't know if he's thankful or mad at it for that, because that just leaves him looking into warm honeyed whiskey eyes which are as wide and inviting and beautiful as the day is young. Cinnamon-spice attraction, tangy lemon curiosity, all wind-swept and coated with wild berries. The smell of him is overwhelming. Considering who he's engaged to, though? The influx of interest on his part is a little worrying and not something Derek wants to trust at all. Laura is wrinkling her nose, at this point. Derek doesn't necessarily blame her. His Mom, however, just gives the guy a sharp look before schooling her expression, standing from her chair at Peter's bedside and saying: "Are you Peter's fiancée?" [Or: The one where Peter is the Beast and Stiles is Sleeping Beauty and Derek is the Big Bad Wolf, only, the Beast is the one sleeping, and all the Big Bad Wolf wants to do is save Sleeping Beauty.]

Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

Tax Evasion by standinginanicedress

Stiles chews on his thumb a bit harder, and for a second he thinks about saying no. He thinks about letting the whole thing go and just going back to his life, the safe and easy way out. He considers just settling for someone who’ll never really get him, some boring guy who touches him the wrong way and buys him flowers sometimes. He’s been doing it for years upon years, now, and really, what’s a little bit longer? And then, what’s the rest of his life? What’s the worst that could happen, he wonders? Trying something is better than not trying at all.

For Your Eyes Only by standinginanicedress

"Are you a fucking psycho? Be honest. Are you sick in the fucking head?” “No,” Derek says. “I’m a rich guy who likes twinks.” “Uh huh,” he doesn’t sound convinced. “You have twenty thousand dollars just lying around waiting to be spent on having cam sex with me?” “I do,” he shrugs. “And then some.” Silence. “You’re rich?” “Yes. I have money. I have an important job. That’s not what we’re talking about. Are you in or out?”

[masterlist link]

[nerdycheol]

All I Ask || J.W.W

🥀pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

🥀genre: angst, unrequited feelings(?), lmk if I missed anything

🥀wc: 785

summary: you've been love with your friend Wonwoo for a long time, but what do you do when he comes to your door the night before his wedding

(a/n): reposting this cuz tumblr flagged my content for no reason :|

^^ dividers by @strangergraphics

You’re brushing your teeth when he knocks.

Not a text, not a call–a knock.

It’s nearly midnight, the night before his wedding, and the last person you expect to see when you open the door is Jeon Wonwoo. Hair slightly tousled. Tie undone. Eyes red-rimmed and tired.

“Hey,” he says, like it’s any other night.

You blink. “Wonwoo... what are you doing here?”

He shifts on his feet, glancing down the hall. “Can I come in?”

You step back before your brain catches up.

He walks in like muscle memory. Drops his keys on the little dish by the door, shrugs off his jacket, toeing off his dress shoes in the corner–like he’s done a hundred times before. But this time, everything is different. This time, he's getting married in less than twelve hours.

You stand frozen, toothbrush still in hand. “You know what time it is?”

He gives a half-laugh. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Wonwoo…”

“I just needed to see you,” he says quietly.

That shuts you up.

You return to the bathroom to rinse out your mouth and buy yourself thirty seconds of composure. When you come back, he’s seated on your couch, staring at the photo on your shelf–the two of you in college, mid-laugh, arms around each other, before either of you knew what heartbreak felt like.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says.

You don’t disagree.

But you don’t ask him to leave either.

You pour two glasses of wine and sit beside him. Close, but not touching.

“I rehearsed vows today,” he says. “In front of her family. My family.”

You nod. You saw the photos on social media. He looked happy. Happy enough.

“She’s great,” you say.

“...she is.”

You take a sip of your wine.

The silence grows heavy, like a storm threatening to break.

Wonwoo shifts, facing you now. “Do you ever think about it?”

Your fingers still around the glass. “About what?”

“Us.”

Your breath catches.

You’ve buried that answer a thousand times. But tonight? Tonight, everything feels raw and unfiltered.

“Yeah,” you admit. “More than I should.”

He nods slowly, like he’s relieved you said it first. “I thought I could get over it. I thought... marrying someone else would make it easier.”

Your heart pounds.

“Did you love me?” you ask.

“I still do.”

The words hit harder than they should.

You whisper, “Then why her?”

He exhales, hands gripping his knees. “Because with her, it was easy. It was never complicated or scary. You and I… it always felt like a cliff I was too afraid to jump off.”

You try to laugh, but it sounds like a sob. “So you picked safety.”

He looks at you then, like it’s the last time he’ll ever be allowed to. “I picked someone I thought I could live with. But I keep thinking about the one person I might not be able to live without.”

Your chest tightens. It’s too late for this. It’s always been too late.

He swallows hard. “Just for tonight… can I stay?”

You should say no. You should throw him out and tell him to go back to the life he chose.

Instead, you say, “Okay.”

You leave the wine glasses on the coffee table.

When he follows you into the bedroom, you don’t ask questions. You lie down in silence. He hesitates at the edge of the bed–until you reach for his hand.

He exhales shakily and climbs in beside you.

There’s no kissing. No rush. Just the quiet slide of limbs under blankets, the slow exhale of breath when his arms wrap around your waist. The press of his chest against your back. The warmth you’ve had for years, though you never truly had it.

His voice is a whisper in the dark.

“I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes.

“I know,” you say. “Me too.”

You wake up alone.

The space beside you is still warm, but the sheets are undisturbed. There’s a folded blanket at the foot of the bed. The glasses–washed and set aside.

No note. No message. No goodbye.

Just the quiet hum of a city morning and the knowledge that, by the end of the day, he’ll belong to someone else.

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your hands like they’re foreign.

You gave him your heart years ago–he only borrowed it tonight.

The tears come slowly. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just quiet, inevitable drops that slide down your cheeks and into the collar of the hoodie you forgot you were wearing–his hoodie.

You don’t stop them. You don’t chase him.

You just let it happen. Like everything else.

Because he didn’t choose you.

And you didn’t stop him.

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[kirietown]

Charmless Morning | Pt. II

Pairing: mark grayson x f!reader

Summary: before there was the hive, there was only you.— or perhaps before there was you, there was the hive? it hurt your head to think about it, but all you knew for certain was that now you were one in the same, and if the hive wanted mark grayson, then so did you.

Content: mind hive control, college move in!, the hive shenanigans, minor body horror

18+

[chapter one] [chapter two] — ongoing series

Word count: 2.1K

a/n: i promise we will have mark appear in the next chap <3

College meant a lot of things; change was the most major thing. Luckily, you hadn’t gone through many throughout your first week. Though it was difficult to part with your bees; your backyard had grown into a large sanctuary over the course of your adolescence and housed thousands of bees of various breeds. You promised them you’d see them on the weekends because thankfully it was only a half hour drive from your college. 

Upstate was promising, but you had no interest in socializing— and had heard plenty of roommate horror stories on Reddit that caused you to implant a bee as soon as you saw your roommate come in with a scowl on her face and more luggage than necessary. Her name was Darla-May, a second year, (not Darla, not May, but Darla-May), and she grew up in the city but had some questionable tradwife views. Had you not planted the bee in her brain, you would have never found out about the fact she was planning to have her group of friends harass you to force you to drop out so she could have the room to herself. 

Luckily, campus was buzzing with bees and you managed to find one for each of them! They lived life the same, though now you made sure they wouldn’t be hurting any more girls on campus. The Hive was truly a blessing. You now had your very own friend group, something most university students struggle with for months. They made it easier to seek out the one you were looking for, Mark Grayson, who apparently was a friend to William who had been dating Rick, who unfortunately was MIA— or possibly dead? You didn’t bother with the details, and The Hive was able to handle the rest. 

You’d learnt a few things about Mark Grayson since your stay on campus; 1. He has a girlfriend named Amber,— this, the hive was displeased by for some reason. 2. He was the superhero Invincible, son of Omniman,— though it seemed the hive already knew this. 3. Mark Grayson was not on Earth at the moment, and although The Hive knew most things, it appeared that outer space was its hard boundary. 

“How can I get close to him if he’s not even on the planet?” 

You sighed as you laid in bed and pondered over your situation. Darla-May was fast asleep in her own bed across from you, and you didn’t have to worry about potentially waking her up because her bee ensured a strict sleep schedule (she used to have a bad TikTok addiction and it was what led her down the tradwife pipeline). It wouldn’t wake her unless you wanted her to wake, or if it felt as though she were in danger. 

We wait. In the meantime, we have to prepare. 

“Prepare?” 

We’ve been tailing Amber and William. Their discussions imply that Mark has a habit of putting his hero duties over his personal life. We won’t get anywhere by trying to get through to him through there. 

“But how will we be able to do that?” You furrowed your brows in confusion,— just how could you infiltrate his superhero life? 

Is it not obvious? 

“No…” You knew where this was going, but you didn’t like the thought of it. College was supposed to be your biggest worry, but it seemed like The Hive had a different agenda for you.

Becoming a superhero was easier said than done— even with the help of The Hive. Outside of class time, The Hive had you on a strict regimen when it came to exercise and concentration. You’d learnt that if you focused your attention enough, you could connect to any bee in the country if you had to. The Hive was convinced you could link to every single one on the planet if you continued to strengthen your link. 

By the end of your second week of training, you were already stopping petty burglaries amongst other smaller crimes. You were pleased, but The Hive was convinced you could do more. 

We have to get the GDA’s attention. Go after something major, and then we’re in. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just plant a bee in one of their top agents or something…” You sighed. You walked casually on the sidewalk until you came across the tailor shop you had been looking for. You needed a proper costume now that some time had passed, as The Hive believed a baggy sweater and a scarf wasn’t heroic enough. The shop you chose was old fashioned, but it was the closest one to campus that seemed low key. You needed something that didn’t seem like it attracted a lot of visitors.

They’re incredibly thorough when it comes to access. We can’t risk them believing we’re some type of foreign invasion nor would they understand us regardless. We’d have to get their director, Cecil Stedman,— but we don’t want him to join our hive. 

The Hive was picky sometimes when it came to allowing certain individuals into its domain. Planting bees into your parents, and most regular people was fine. But it drew hard boundaries during other occasions and you weren’t sure why. 

We find him icky. 

“Hello?” You called into the tailor shop, stopping by the counter until a man emerged from a back door. 

“Hello to you as well,” he replied in a chipper tone. “My apologies, I’m the only person who works here and so it’s hard for me to manage the desk and work on suits at the same time. It feels like a back and forth between the back and the front. But it’s why I have the bell here,” he explained with a sigh, and ended his ramble by pressing his hand against the bell on his counter. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “So what can I do for you?” 

“Well,” you said. “I’m trying to get my own suit too, but something of a more niche nature. Actually, I’m glad you mentioned you’re here alone because it makes this so much easier.” He furrowed his thick brows in confusion at your words, and you only smiled tenderly. 

“Sorry,” you said. “The little guy I picked out for you is a little shy.” You sighed dramatically before you reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a mellow bumble bee. “C’mon,” you said softly. “I know you’re young but I promise you it’ll be fine.”

”Look girl,” he said as he backed away in worry. “I don’t know what you’re on about but—“ his words were cut abruptly as the bee in your hand quickly flew off and went straight into his ear. He choked for a moment, stunned, before his expression changed to one of familiar neutrality. You sighed in relief, glad that your little friend finally got over his confidence issues. It wasn’t that the bees didn’t want to work, some were afraid of disappointing The Hive as it was a great honour to work directly for you both.

You shut your eyes, suddenly in tune with the memories of the tailor. “Okay Derek,” you said, though you didn’t need to speak physically, but you had begun to prefer it over the years due to the history of silence between yourself and your parents. “You know what to do.” 

You turned to take a seat on the couch, and watched him bring out various yellow fabrics and immediately started to work at a quickness that was beyond human. No, it was a quickness only made possible by The Hive, and its little friend.

The entire process of making your superhero costume, which would normally take any tailor several weeks, only took an hour. He needed no measurements as The Hive knew all there was to know about you and your preferences and thus your suit had been made. 

You stepped around the mannequin Derek had assembled it on and noted the fairy like appearance of the top and skirt. You pursed your lips at the sight, noting the wide open back— you weren’t opposed to a backless look but you didn’t realize the hive would select something so… revealing. 

The back is open for a reason. But unrelatedly, we want to catch Mark’s attention. 

You stepped back in shock at the words that rang in your head. “I thought you just wanted to get close to him— did you mean seduce him?” You paused for a few moments and waited for The Hive’s reply but it didn’t come. “Are you there?”

Yes. Are our intentions not obvious? 

“He has a girlfriend, which you’re aware of…” You paced around, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of The Hive trying to set you up with a guy you never even met. 

She doesn’t seem very happy with him.

”Whoa,” you said with a snort. “I’ve never heard you sound so snappy before, you’re usually so monotone. Why do you need this guy so bad?” You halted your walking and found yourself in front of the costume again, admiring the bright and sparkly fabric. It ideally fit the criteria of both cute and sexy. You could see Derek at the corner of your eye standing stiffly, if he had been paying attention to your conversation he didn’t show it. The Hive had said his implant would be temporary anyway, you only needed him for his skill, and now that the bee had been in his brain long enough, anyone connected both now and in the future to The Hive could duplicate his skillset. 

Everything was shared once you were a part of The Hive; in fact, everyone with a bee in their head currently knew exactly where you were right now and what you were feeling. 

Awkward. 

We think he’s an ideal candidate for us. 

“Because he’s some B-tier superhero?”

No, because he’s part extraterrestrial. It is the link we have been ready for. 

“I see,” and you really didn’t. You just hated to question The Hive too much; if The Hive got too agitated, your head would start to hurt. It wasn’t a normal pain either— it was punishment. You knew better than to question The Hive’s choices or authority. You weren’t sure why you bothered to now. 

You turned and allowed Derek to pack up the suit and associated mask. You thanked him and paid him generously for his services before you summoned his bee back into your palm. You watched his expression shift from contentment to confusion within seconds before you thanked him again and exited the store. You knew he wouldn’t remember anything that had just happened, and thankfully you didn’t have to fix any cameras as the store didn’t have any. 

That night you slept pleasantly until you awoke from immense pain searing across your back. You flailed in bed for a few seconds before you tumbled out and ripped your shirt off and threw it across the room. It hit Darla-May straight in the face but she didn’t stir whatsoever much to your annoyance. Wasn’t she supposed to sense your pain? 

We can’t see but she’s crying in her sleep, The Hive said solemnly. They all are. That’s why we waited to do this in the middle of the night. 

“W— what are you doing to me?” You cried out. You curled your back and pressed your clammy forehead to the floor, feeling the cool hard wood against your skin. The pain of your back was so intense you felt as though you’d pass out at any second if it didn’t stop. You could feel your skin splitting, as if to make room for something, though it felt less so of an invasion and more so like an intrusion— if that even made sense. You had never felt the terms were so different until now. 

Don’t worry. Just sleep. 

Instantly you relaxed, your eyes shut tightly, and despite the pain, your body and your mind listened. 

In the morning you woke up sweaty despite having been pressed top naked against the cold floor all night. Slowly, you arose twitching slightly due to the sensation of fluttering against your back. 

“What is it? What’s on my back?” You asked Darla-May who seemingly awoke a few minutes before you as she had been in the middle of grabbing her towel and other toiletry from her closet. You stared at her with anxiety written all over you. Yet, if she noticed, she didn’t show it. Generally, she was clearly unbothered by the situation. 

“Wings,” she said happily. “You have wings,— just like a bee. Isn’t The Hive so generous?” 

What a blessing, you thought bitterly. You ignored the pain suddenly digging in your skull. What a blessing to have been chosen by The Hive. 

[thewretched1999]

── .✦ have my heart.

cw: established relationship, angst, brief mentions of violence/blood/gore, implied past sui ideation.

a/n: first somewhat long fic of mine!!! ive had it sitting there and was trying to finish it all morning so happy i did! ty in advance for reading :3

word count: 3k

Time has a way of passing by quietly, leaving only small hints that it’s slipping through your fingers, going unnoticed until suddenly what was once clean and shining is now caked with dust and riddled with cobwebs.

Yet Leon’s items remain spotless as ever.

It’s become routine by now, even if the rest of the house is in disarray, his office is spotless. As much as it pains you to step foot inside and wipe his desk down at least once a week, it’s the only thing you can bring yourself to actually clean. If only to be surrounded by memories.

Photos, trinkets and files adorn the room, the bottle of whiskey you gifted him for his birthday sits near his computer, the glass shot waiting patiently like you for him to return. The landline on his desk beeps red with voicemails from friends, you checked the first few a couple months ago. Even they don’t know what’s going on.

You knew that if something ever happened to him, and god you prayed everyday that it never would, that you would be left in the dark until they found something to bring home. 

But what do you do with radio silence? How do you deal with the grief of having nothing to mourn over? 

It’s been months. A couple more and it’ll be a year. 

Still no body.

The house is deathly still, frozen in time. Sometimes the couch becomes your bed when you can’t bring yourself to spend another night in the empty bedroom, the decorative throw pillow and blanket from last fall always laid out. It’s the only thing that smells like him, reminds you of the times when you’d be curled up against his side watching some action movie, listening to him criticize it or make some dry comment, because who knows better than him of course.

His scent isn’t as strong as it used to be, fades away day after day, but it feels like he’s still there, you hold onto that tiny sliver of him while wallowing in regret about having done the laundry the day he left on that damn mission, it devastates you when you bring a shirt of his up to your nose and find only the scent of fresh linen.

You hold onto hope, as fine as grains of sand, that he’ll come home safe and sound. That you’ll wake and find him sliding into bed as quietly as possible, always mindful to not wake you. With his strong arms wrapped around your waist as he murmurs an apology and presses a feather-light kiss to your cheek.

But it never comes, and lately, neither does sleep. 

Leon haunts your every waking moment, how could he not? It’s unhealthy to spend every moment in grief, but the love you have for him threatens to consume you whole when you finally decide to lay in bed.

The photograph on your nightstand mocks you night after night. A rare smile on his face, his cheek squished against yours, arms wrapped gently around you while you threaten to strangle the life out of him with yours.

The voicemails he’s left you in the past play on loop. Sometimes when you’re cooking, hearing him talk about his day on his break makes your existence feel a little less lonely. His things stay just as he left them, and sometimes you let yourself think that maybe.

 Just maybe. 

 He’ll walk through that door, and you’ll come alive again.

Little by little you were finally starting to take control of your life. 

Although it was as hard as a thousand count puzzle, missing a few jigsaw pieces and all, it was certainly better than it was in the beginning. It’s been a year and some months already, a heartfelt intervention knocked some sense into you. Friends you hadn’t seen, ambushing you with their love and worry, forcing you to remember you weren’t completely alone.

Gently letting you know that even though your heart will always belong to Leon, no amount of wallowing in your misery and self destruction will bring him back. That it’s just how things are. The shitty cards you were dealt with.

Your home and heart will always have traces of him, you won’t move on but you won’t let yourself fall behind either, you learn things could be easier if you would just give it a chance. The door to his office is closed now, weekly visits turned into monthly ones. Instead of listening to his voice when you cook, it’s the sound of your friends talking your ear off now.

The couch still has that same throw blanket and pillow waiting for you, his scent long gone, replaced by crisp rain and eucalyptus instead, at least that’s what fabric softener says. On some days, it gets to you all over again, claws its way up your throat and comes out in the form of endless tears and wails that could put a banshee to shame.

But today was a good day. You’d done some housework, got takeout and had a nice night in to finally finish a series you’d started with Leon, he would’ve hated the ending, you’re sure of it.

It’s only in the middle of the night when you’re finally dozing off, the sleeping pills prescribed to you leaving you drowsy enough to almost—almost—not hear the sound of someone knocking on the front door. It’s quiet as a mouse yet still alarming, tears away what little sleep you had finally managed to nearly slip into, reluctantly you rush out of bed to go check the peephole. 

If it was an intruder you’re sure they wouldn’t knock first.

You pad down the hallway, remembering Leon’s words, that if anyone ever did break in, the hall was a good choke point, all you had to do was run back down to the bedroom and grab the gun. 

The knocking grows in its volume with each step you take, until it stops as suddenly as it began, you hold your breath, before you watch the doorknob twist slowly, it doesn’t open yet. The top lock still set in place. 

Whoever is on the other side gives it a couple of tries before they too seem to realize—there’s another lock.

That one jiggles shortly after and unlocks with a loud thunk, never in your life did you think your flight or fight reaction would be to freeze until now, Leon would be barreling to get you to safety, scooping you up or shoving you behind him by now, but he’s not here to save you.

The door opens slowly and steadily, a figure in the doorway is illuminated by the porch light outside, bright enough to let you see who it is, the sight only makes your heart stop.

“Oh my god—“ You whisper in disbelief, taking a step back you almost stumble but the end table catches you. A framed photograph takes the fall instead, the glass shattering into thousands of little pieces just like all the progress you’ve made.

Blonde strands, once soft and neat now disheveled and caked with blood and gore, his face is the same, nearly identical to the Leon you lost—if you could ignore the inhuman black veins that have taken root underneath his sickly pale skin. 

God, it seems, has listened to your pleas and taken pity on you, but you didn’t know he could be cruel, didn’t know prayers could be misheard. You wanted Leon back safe and sound, but not like this.

If you look closely there’s some crimson streaks by his mouth, haphazardly wiped away, but the evidence stains his arms and neck. Smeared there in a way that leads to one conclusion, you’re sure if he bares his teeth at you, your theory would be confirmed.

The key in his hand clatters to the floor, snapping you out of your petrified state. You don’t know whether to run to him or to run away. Your body does though, forcing you to take another step back, legs shaking like a leaf and hand coming up to press against your mouth, muffling the sounds of fear threatening to escape your lips.

He steps inside, shuts the door like he’s coming home after just another long day, and the smell hits you hard, iron and death clinging to him like a cloak, suffocating the clean scent of the wall plug in nearby.

“What happened…?” You finally sob, trying to keep the tears at a minimum but it’s nearly impossible with the way you’re hiccuping and gasping for air, fighting the urge to wretch both from the disgusting smell and overwhelming emotions.

He doesn’t respond with words, just grunts. It’s low and strained and not at all what you wanted to hear. 

His arms reach for you, threatening to pull you into a hug and you move further away, backing up down the hall, in confusion, he follows.

“No…! Leon, please, please—” You’re begging through broken sobs, voice getting louder and more desperate. It’s only then that he stops, with a pained expression on his face that makes you feel like shit for reacting this way. 

This is hard for him too, no doubt it’s worse than what you’re feeling, you don’t know what he had to do to come back home to you but you know that whatever it was, he needs you more than you need him right now. Despite yourself, you decide to compromise.

“Let’s…let’s wash you first.” You manage to say, he looks down at himself almost like he forgot he was covered in blood before nodding, following you loyally down the hall, and into the bathroom.

You don’t want to touch him, but you know you have to, the love you had for him still shines through in the way you carefully help him remove his clothes, tattered and torn in some parts, throwing them off to the side, forcing yourself to not grimace or stare at the sight of his body, pale flesh riddled with new fresh scars and black streaks.

Leon can’t stand the look in your eyes, he’s not stupid, it's pity and overwhelming fear he sees. He knows this isn’t what you expected, but he can’t do anything about it now. He wants to soothe your fears, offer words of reassurance but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out except a low grumble that has your eyes snapping up to meet his. 

He hates it, a twisted part of him, the one compromised by the virus, enjoys the fear he sees, but Leon breaks contact before he does anything stupid, steps into the tub and sits down, he remembers this routine vividly, the one you saved for nights he needed your love and care more than anything in the world, tilts his head back and looks up at you expectantly. 

Pleased when he sees you leaning over to turn the water on, checking it and making sure it’s perfect for him, even if you’re terrified. He’s never come home looking like this, always made sure to come home clean, but that wasn’t an option tonight and unfortunately it’s your job to do this for him.

Gentle hands comb through his matted hair, lathering up the shampoo and washing the blood and grime away. If you closed your eyes you could almost pretend this was normal, but it feels like you’re showering a bad dog who mauled a rabbit instead of your boyfriend.

The water shifts to a different color, going from clear to a soft pink thanks to the blood, your stomach churns at the sight before you reach down into the water and pull the plug out, letting the tub drain before turning the shower head on to rinse him off while you scrub him down.

Leon lets out a small hum of contentment, eyes fluttering shut as he bows his head, the hot water and steam feel like bliss to him, it makes it even better you’re caring for him like you had in the past, he’s missed this more than anything, prefers it far more to what he’s been going through these past months. 

You almost miss it, but when you go back to run the washcloth across his chest again, you feel it before you hear. The little vibrations rumbling underneath the surface, he’s purring. 

It’s almost cute. Albeit inhuman.

“What happened…?” You finally manage to ask the question that’s been eating at you since you saw him again. Leon tenses, looks away from you and you take the chance to really look at him again. His muscles are a little more defined than you last remember, his body is virtually the same no signs of malnurishment anywhere so where was he? 

“Can…can you talk?” You ask again quietly, He looks at you for a moment, before shaking his head no. You press your lips tightly together before nodding and letting the silence settle over again.

It doesn’t take long until you can deem him spotless, helping him up and out, towel wrapped around his waist and your hand tentatively pressed against his back, guiding him towards the bedroom.

Once he’s changed and ready for bed, only then does Leon try to initiate anything. This time it’s a kiss, but you turn away quickly before his lips could meet yours.

“I—I can’t,” You mumble,” Not…not right now.” heart aching because god you want to, dreamt of this for months, but everything is too fresh, too raw.

The rejection stings more than he thought it would, his shoulders tense before they slump as he stares down at you, he wants to make you look at him, to give him the affection he’s been starved of, but he doesn’t. He can’t afford to do anything that’ll make you pull away from him even more than you already have. So he just grunts and nods again, settles for a hug instead, he deserves it after all. 

He’s still gentle. Mindful of his new-found strength, once your arms wrap around him he buries his face into your hair and breathes you in, he’s still just as addicted to your presence as he was before. He can ignore your hesitation so long as you love him. Or pretend to.

It’s not long after, that you help him settle into bed, pull the covers up and over his body, ignoring the way your fingers accidentally brush against his deathly cold skin. Even after a hot shower it seems nothing could bring that warmth back. 

And even though you’re still terrified, you lean down and press a kiss to his temple.

His eyes stay focused on your form as you pull away, watching each step you take, tense and on edge, worried you’d leave him when he needs you most, he only relaxes once you settle on the bed beside him. 

Did it hurt? You wonder, heart aching at the thought, you don’t want to know the answer. 

In his line of work you could only imagine what it would’ve been like, but the thought still lingers, you force yourself to focus on the task at hand and think about anything else other than the fact he was alone when he…died? Changed? You don’t know. But he’s back.

The mattress dips down slightly as you shift, unable to take your eyes off him, staring at him like you’ve done so many times in the past. He looks so…peaceful, just like the last time you’d seen him, yet so, so different, you can’t look past the black inky veins that litter his body, starts on his neck where his pulse is and goes up his face and down his body, dancing and taunting you, almost saying no, he’s not the same, but he could be.

The scent of decay is long down the drain, replaced by fresh pine and lavender, but still ingrained into your mind as you lay on your side facing him. You know the blood was human blood. Leon’s hand comes up shaky and uncertain as it cups your cheek, it makes you flinch, just as he expected.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper, voice breaking, it’s all you can offer him, an apology and a little bit of your warmth as you place your shaking hand atop his.

His eyes, now a cloudy blue, stare back into yours, nothing more could be said. The silence that settles over you both is a mockery of the comfort you had once found in each other in the past, it’s as heavy as lead, but for tonight you pretend. A part of you wonders if his head is as vacant as his eyes are.

You hope it isn't, you hope that maybe the man you love (loved?) with all your heart is still there, with his furrowed brow and quick tongue.

You were torn, trying to convince yourself that maybe this was your Leon, but the fear remained. If it wasn’t, if there was a chance he was too far gone, could go haywire any moment and hurt you, would it be the right thing to do to grant him the mercy of a painless death? To let his body finally rest and free him from this existence?

Would he forgive you if you did?

You’re sure you remember how to use the gun he gifted you, kept it tucked underneath your pillow incase, with one round loaded that used to be meant for you if the grief became too much to bear. All you had to do was take the safety off and wait for him to go to sleep.

It’s only until you feel his thumb brushing against your cheek that you focus on him again.

His lips are moving, slowly but surely, even if nothing comes out. You barely realize he’s mouthing something to you, does it over and over again until he sees the realization in your eyes.

‘I love you.’ He mouths.

Your nostrils flare, and you swallow thickly, tears quickly welling up in your eyes again. 

All Leon knows is that he’s home, he’s here with you again, and that should be enough.

[mushroomnoodles]

tw/cw for sfw and non kink mpreg

Simon's grown accustomed, he thinks, to the state of being pregnant. Well, he can manage, certainly; The only thing he genuinely struggles with at this rate is getting an acceptable amount of rest. Every instinct in his body tells him to roll onto his back in his sleep despite his thousand-year-old spine pleading for some form of mercy, and the weight of this half-chaos god baby certainly isn't helping him. A rest well into the A.M. is nothing short of a victory for the old man. So he forgives himself for being upset the moment he wakes up, starfished, leg and back pillows tossed to the side and shirt ridden up. His back aches with a dull but present throb, and Simon grimaces at the ceiling in the dark bedroom, bleary eyed, more in irritation than discomfort. At least when he stayed awake all night before he wasn't particularly tired. It's not a reasonable hour, that's for sure. He knows that without glancing at the radio clock beside him, and he also knows lifting his heavy body to shift back onto his side is quite the effort in his current state. So he procrastinates on the task, closing his eyes and laying still.... And drifting back off. But Simon is almost immediately jerked back awake at the sensation of a less-than-gentle kick from his baby, unusual at this time of hour and perhaps a little unappreciated. They've gotten to the size where all of their activity is quite noticeable in the womb, and Simon could certainly feel the strength behind anything that wasn't just a minor readjustment. This is not a minor readjustment. The sleep in his system discourages the small spike of anxiety that would usually arise from this deviation of the norm, and instead the antiquarian's brows knit together. "Mmmh." He grunts, running his hand over his belly instinctively to soothe the little guy. Another movement, this time against his palm. Hi, he thinks, too tired to say it aloud. It's not until a purposeful shove against his ribs knocks the breath out of him that Simon finally opens his eyes again- ouch- and heaves himself up to a sitting position, groping for the pair of glasses on his nightstand. He fumbles a bit to put them on one-handed, turning his attention to his swollen middle. "Oof- ow, hey- What's got you going so early?" He grumbles, though there's now a hint of concern in his voice as he watches his little demigod roll in his womb, a bulge of something bigger than a fist or foot shifting downwards. "You're a little big to be doing that one.. You're usually so still at night. Is something wrong?" He feels his chest tighten just at the thought- not now, surely, not when he's so close to having them. It's a ridiculous thought. But he hasn't been able to see them on the Princess' sonograms. He supposes he wouldn't have a way to know for sure if his kid was okay, and this pregnancy was far from conventional. It would be just his luck, but if any god ever chose to be merciful, then please- As if on cue to interrupt his thoughts, his stomach rumbles almost obnoxiously, and the child gives a smaller, though no less insistent kick. Simon blinks in disbelief- and pinches his temples. Kid realizes they're hungry before he does. "Oh. Of course. Ha." As per usual these days, Simon Petrikov works himself up for nothing. "S'pose you won't let me go back to sleep, then, until we do something about that." The human steels himself for a moment, sliding one leg over the edge of it before hauling himself to his feet. "Nngh- All right," he mutters, scratching his stubble and pulling his shirt down over his bump, "Let's see what I got in the refrigerator."

[foldingfittedsheets]

so - i'm still sleeping on a boxed bed that i've had for. uh. by my estimate nearly 8 years. (😭) im not in a place where i can just up to the mattress store and buy what feels nice - i live in my mom's basement, and i'm a college student who doesn't drive, and i can't hardly get anyone to listen to me in the first place when i say my bed is breaking down. ("mine is still fine!" (bc it's younger) "have you tried flipping it?" (yes) "i think it's just the frame. . ." (we fixed that) etc.)

(for context, my mom had to buy four new mattresses in the divorce, and she Could Not afford anything except box mattresses. i don't fault her for doing this, i'm just a little frustrated when she won't believe me saying i need a new one now.)

i do not want to get another box mattress. my spine is in hell daily as it is, and i don't want to put up with this again in 5 years. but i can't afford to spend thousands on a *proper* mattress.

as of last week i was about to buy an unboxed one from Costco, but then i read your faq, which has deterred me somewhat. would that at least be more support, longer, than a boxed one? i don't think i could put more than $500 on a bed right now, and i have a twin frame. do you have any ideas

If you weren’t on anon or shot me a message I do have some non-box options around $500 that I could suggest, but I don’t like dropping product recs to the masses.

Aside from a new bed you could also ask about outlet programs for a cheaper bed that was tested by someone else.

[chaoticsolsworld]

Stay Here…? (Part 2 of “In the End, I Chose You”)|Manny Alvarez x Reader

Author’s Note:

Canon-divergent epilogue for a Manny x Reader fic where Joel lives. Set two years after the cabin, this explores healing, forgiveness, and how peace never comes without a cost in the Last of Us world. Ends with a dark cliffhanger—because nothing stays quiet forever.

Warnings: trauma mentions, PTSD elements, referenced violence, survivor’s guilt, and implied incoming threat.

Hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want a Part 3

(Two Years Later – Jackson)

It was spring in Jackson—muddy trails, cracked ice, and early sun filtering through pines. The kind of morning where peace came easy if you didn’t think too hard. You stepped onto the porch with a chipped coffee mug and exhaled slow, eyes tracing the frost just beginning to fade from the rooftops.

The cold was familiar, but not hostile. For the first time in a long time, your body didn’t feel like it was bracing for survival.

The door behind you creaked open. Manny stepped out barefoot, shirt rumpled, curls tied back in a loose knot. He looked at you with that soft half-smile he only ever wore when it was just the two of you—no patrols, no eyes, no past catching up.

“Didn’t even wait for me?” he asked, stretching.

You smirked. “You snored through three alarms.”

He leaned against the railing beside you, bumping your shoulder. “Lie. I don’t snore.”

“You do. Like a dying bear.”

He chuckled, low and quiet, and then lapsed into silence. The two of you watched the town stir to life—distant voices, a dog barking, the echo of horses being led toward the gates.

Two years ago, you thought you’d never hear those sounds again.

“Does it still wake you up?” he asked suddenly, eyes still on the trees.

You didn’t need to ask what it meant.

“Sometimes,” you answered. “Usually when it’s too quiet.”

He nodded. His hand found yours where it rested against the porch rail, fingers warm, steady.

You remembered the cabin—blood and screaming and smoke. You remembered the gun shaking in your hand as you turned on the people you had once called friends. You remembered Manny standing there, not stopping you. Letting you choose.

He never asked for forgiveness.

You gave it anyway.

And in return, he stayed. Through interrogation, through suspicion, through a thousand days of rebuilding a life no one thought you deserved. Even now, some didn’t trust you. But Jesse had vouched for you. Joel…God, somehow…had forgiven you. Ellie hadn’t spoken more than a sentence to you, but she hadn’t shut you out entirely. That was enough.

You’d built something here. Quiet. Honest.

You both had.

That night, after dinner and a shared patrol shift along the north wall, you lay in bed beside Manny, his head tucked against your shoulder, one hand resting on your waist, thumb brushing slow circles against your ribs.

“You ever think about leaving?” you whispered.

He didn’t open his eyes. “No.”

“Even if the past came knocking?”

Now his eyes opened. “It already did. We didn’t answer.”

You stared at the ceiling, heart a little heavier than it had been that morning.

“I don’t think it’s done with us.”

He didn’t argue.

You fell asleep like that, wound around each other, warm and safe in the kind of peace you’d never thought you’d earn.

Until—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Not frantic. Not confused.

Just… waiting.

Your eyes snapped open. It was after midnight. No one knocked at this hour unless something was wrong.

You sat up. Manny was already reaching for the pistol beside the bed. His face had shifted, sleep replaced by something harder, sharper.

A second knock. Slower. Measured.

You crept to the door, pulse hammering in your throat. Manny followed, silent. You glanced down and saw something slid under the crack.

A folded piece of paper.

Your hand trembled as you picked it up.

Unfolded it.

Read it.

“We didn’t forget you.”

No name. No mark. No mercy.

Manny met your eyes.

Neither of you spoke.

But the quiet peace that had clung to the cabin like mist was already gone.

Outside, the wind picked up

It’s cold…

[bqalek]

Help Jihad and his family leave Gaza

A message from Jihad from his GoFundMe:

Hello I am Mahmoud in I live in Belguim and rising this fundraising campaign for my friend Jihad and his family from Gaza. While they are in urgent need of support I will help Jehad to get his donations to be able to survive this wat Here is a message from Jehad  (I am 18 years old. The eldest person in my family lives in Gaza. We lost our house and were displaced on the roads of Rafah. We live in a tent. I, my mother, my father, my sisters, and my grandmother. My father is sick and cannot work. I am responsible for my family after the bombing of my father's stone manufacturing project. Now our situation is very bad and difficult because there is no... We can provide for our daily needs. I am supposed to be in high school now. I was dreaming of finishing this stage and becoming a doctor and starting to create a good future, but the war destroyed that. Unfortunately, my sister was also injured in the war and we cannot treat her, and my little brother is suffering from severe psychological shock from the sound of the bombing, shells, and the martyrs that he saw. He cannot overcome this, and my grandmother suffers from diabetes and other diseases and she cannot sleen in the heat in a tent...she cannot sleep in the heat in a tent that is not fit for life. We are all here facing death, and I hope that you will help us and my family. I need to travel with my family and my grandmother, because she is big and we cannot leave her alone. We need 30 thousand dollars to coordinate the Hala company. Me, my sister, my father, my mother, my grandmother, my brother

[sunnytheopossum]

THE LAST HALF BODY IS DONE! MY PART IS COMPLETE!!

I’m genuinely super proud of myself for this, guys! I’ve always been too nervous to participate in MAPs before now, but after forcing myself to apply and actually work on something like this for real, I’m really happy with the result, and I’m just glad that I was able to build up the confidence to try in the first place.

I’m gonna post Alex’s halfbody frame here by itself just for the sake of consistency with the other halfbodies I’ve posted, but in just a minute I’ll post my completed MAP part as well ^^

For this halfbody, I was originally going to surround him with trees like everyone else, but I ultimately decided to place him in the Rosswood Tunnel instead, mostly just because I think it’s a cool visual, but also because I think it’s a very “Alex” location. For the rest of his background elements, I gave him his gun, punched him in the face a whole lot and dragged him through the mud (bc he deserves it), splat some of Tunnel Guy’s blood on his shirt, and surrounded him with some of his own scribblings for that good good ✨visual intrigue✨. Also!!! His weirdo Jesus crown of thorns bleeding from the head thing from Entry #14! I had to include that, it’s my favorite Alexism.

[alesshi]

He would never ask

[gutzcore]

Porque te vas

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

♡ chronicle #1 : routine ♡

wc : 2544

somehow, you’ve gotten used to living with the dragon man.

the man, you later found out his name is bakugou (after some prying, the guy’s annoyingly stubborn) had been living with you for about three weeks now and has seemingly started warming up to you, you say seemingly because you’re still not so sure.

he adapts to the human lifestyle quite quickly. he ditched his tattered old clothes and you've offered him your biggest set of clothes for the time being until you’d go out shopping some other day.

you have to admit it’s entertaining to watch him interact with your household items, like your utensils, glasses, books and plants, even if they are fake.

he likes watching tv but acts like he doesn’t, claiming that human entertainment was beneath him. but you catch how he always seems to be laser focused on the tv whenever you have some kind of drama tv show on, despite him saying he’s only watching ‘to kill time.’ he’s gotten used to technology rather quickly though. he likes listening to music and choosing songs when you connect your phone to your little bluetooth speaker.

you also note he likes cooking, or he likes watching you cook. you wouldn’t have guessed by the way he pointedly glares at you but you notice he’s less focused on you than he is on the food your making. you’ve let him try using the knife more lately when you were sure he wouldn’t use it to kill you in your sleep. he’s good at cutting stuff up, (maybe from experience?) and you were pleasantly surprised to see he was actually a really good cook. pleasantly surprised, definitely not a little jealous of his ability to watch one cooking show and replicate the dish perfectly. not at all.

in a way, it’s like having a roommate..that just so happens to be a dragon.

except it’s not because he acts more like a big cat rather than a roommate or a fearsome dragon.

for some reason he’s decided to make his stay- until-he’s-fully-healed-deal insufferable for you.

he nabs your food from your plate whenever you order takeout, despite you letting him pick out what he wants from the menu every time. he growls and nips at your fingers whenever you try and reach back for your food and he snarls at you whenever you try to take your food away from his grubby grasp.

he still sticks to calling you human despite you having told him your name multiple times, all he does is stick his nose up and scoff at you. he’s also, despite his rather large presence and size, really good at sneaking around. meaning he sneaks up on you regularly and scares you shitless. he likes to pretend you’re overdramatic too, calling you a scaredy-cat for getting startled so easily though he makes no effort to hide that shit eating grin on his face whenever he’s spooked you.

he doesn’t seem to understand the concept of having job, making fun if you for 'submitting to another puny human'. you’ve tried to explain how the puny human in question is the reason you get payed and the reason he gets to eat that yakiniku he seems to love. he merely scoffs and claims he would’ve just beat the shit outta your boss. "have him know his place."

you find out through light coaxing that bakugou is a dragon shifter, they posses human forms but have the blood of great, ancient dragons coursing through their veins, is what he says. they seem quite incredible from what he’s told you and he himself seems pretty damn proud of his heritage. they age the same way humans do but their strength, stamina and quite literally everything else surpasses them greatly.

you were curious, how could you not be when a dragon man was in your house with answers to all of the fantasy questions you’d accepted would never be answered forever ago?! you ask and ask and bakugou answers, some of your questions have him scoffing offendedly ( like you asking if he uses his fire breathing as a barbecue tool, the answer is unfortunately no) some questions have him snorting and smirking to himself and some questions take a little while of thinking before he provides an answer. you notice his long, scaly red tail raises upwards the slightest little bit when you hum excitedly whenever he answers your questions, as much as he huffs about them. you decide not to comment on it.

“ what about your parents ? are they dragon shifters too ?" he stiffens at your question and you feel the vibe has changed from the one before, you don’t like it.

he lowers his head and his eyebrows furrow a little harder, you’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to divulge private information about himself but then he speaks up and claims it’s none of your business.

he’s right, it really isn’t, but you foolishly believed you’d get to know each other a bit better. you know you don’t technically need to, but you thought— you don’t really know what you thought. all you can say is that as annoying as he is, you can’t deny your intrigue of this man.

you decide to blame it on the fact that he’s a dragon for now and leave it at that.

you have more you want to ask him, but he doesn’t seem to want to talk about this subject anymore. you don’t want the conversation to end yet.

and then you remember.

“hey !” you suddenly start, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you “ how exactly did you end up blasting through my wall ? you were injured too, i never asked you about it, must’ve slipped my mind.” when he registers your question, it has him tightening his jaw in anger. fists clenched and veins popping “that fuckin’ bastard..” he growls.

“who ?”

he regains as much of his composure as he can but he still looks very pissed off.

“nothin’. it doesn’t matter.” he shrugs, looking away from you before deciding to step off your kitchen chair to flop onto the couch unceremoniously.

“wha- the reason you blasted through my wall doesn’t matter?!” you splutter, staring at him dumbfounded but he either doesn’t see you or doesn’t pay you any mind. he’s already scrolling through channels on your tv and replies with a simple “nope”.

and just like that, the conversation ends.

lately though, you’ve established somewhat of a routine with the dragon man.

he seems to enjoy binge watching tv shows rather than watching movies, you realized he was hooked on your favorite show when he growled and threatened you when you turned it off to head to bed. you didn’t mind watching your favorite show for the 50000th time and it’s always nice to see other people’s —dragons, in this case—reactions to your favorite moments.

despite his bravado, he’s ridiculously expressive. he glares and growls and groans whenever characters do something he deems stupid. he doesn’t say much when romantic moments happen, but he huffs proudly, almost like everything went according to his plan. frankly, you found it quite cute.

every time you come back from work, you chow down on some take out and watch your favorite show toghether, mixed with bakugou occasionally commenting every once in a while.

today though, you're back late.

today had been more grueling than usually, work seemed to drag on longer and it seemed that the clock in your office was frozen or broken. that, or you were stuck in some type of time vortex.

it's about 10pm when you step foot into your apartment. you instantly feel more at ease, it's warm and you smell the donburi leftovers that were confined to the fridge yesterday. you blink, then look up at your dragon roommate.

his head is perked up, the tip of his tail standing at attention, his eyes narrow into slits when he sees it's you and his shoulders sag. he huffs and a barely there pout forms on his lips.

"you're late." he grumbles. he takes another fierce bite of his donburi and shoves it in his mouth, as if to simulate biting you for the irreperable act you've commited. you hold back a snort at how ridiculous he looks trying to be intimidating with his cheeks all puffed out.

"yeah, sorry" you sigh "work ran till late" you kick off your shoes and you hear him scoffs, muttering something along the lines of why you don't just have your boss burnt to a crisp. "don't talk with your mouth full" you joke. you scold him like he's a child and he responds like one when he simply growls at you.

you're opening the frigde to grab your portion when he beats you to it " 'ts in the microwave ! " he calls loud enough for you to hear. and sure enough, you find you're bowl in the microwave waiting for you, you'd have to heat it up a bit, but not as long. you smile to yourself and turn to him, he glances at you then pointedly looks away, scoffing to himself. you're too far away to see how his ears prickle and burn as they turn a light shade of pink.

you plop yourself down next to him on the couch, food in hand,and start eating. bakugou jumps into motion. he snatches the remote without even giving you a chance to glance at it and switches to netflix like he's been living here forever. you find you don't really mind that, for some reason.

he mutters a "fuckin' finally" when he hears the iconic 'du-duummm" and the show starts where you left off yesterday. this is the episode you left off on yesterday. then it clicks.

you blink at him " you haven't watched episode 15 yet ?" you questioned. he rolls his eyes like you had asked him a stupid question "course not..." he sniffs. he wants to cut himself off but decides against it "you weren't back yet." his eyes are fixed to the tv.

you feel yourself flush involuntarily, it's such a miniscule, frankly stupid thing to be embarrassed about but you've learned to not take the dragon man's kindness (if you can call it that most of the time) for granted.

"oh" you gasp, he refuses to look at you. your eyes dart from him to the tv then back to him, and back to the tv to hide your embarrassement.

"you could've started without me, i wouldn't have minded." you whisper bashfully, you're quiet over the sound of the tv, but you know he hears you cus he scoffs at you.

"shut up." he grunts, his arm flexes where he has it draped on the back of your couch as he shuffles to sit more comfortably. " i can't do that." then, as if trying to save face, he splutters "you'd get all pissy about it..it's annoyin'".

"i wouldn't have gotten 'pissy' " you mocked hotly.

"ya did when i blasted your wall."

"that's because you blasted my wall ! "

"tch."

your banter ends there as you both quietly watch the show, you let out a few yawns and rub at your eyes, trying your hardest to fight off sleep but you feel like your losing. until bakugou speaks up again.

"you..." he starts. you lazily roll your head back from where it's propped up on the couch to blink at him sleepily, he meets your eye for a moment, only for a moment, then looks out towars your balcony window. you hum to try and coax him to continue speaking.

"you..wanted to know about my folks, right ?" he asks gruffly.

you're using the last of the strenght your sleep-riddled body has to sit up a little straighter and nod quickly, eyes slightly wider. he looks at you for a moment longer than before. a beat passes and neither of you say anything, finally he sighs for the umpteenth time today and speaks up.

“my ma’s a shifter, my old man’s a human." he confesses. you’re eyes widen, you sit up straighter “woah really ?!" you bleated. he grunts in response.

" wow, so you’re half human..?"

“all of us are, shitty human.”

" cut that out, i’ve told you my name a thousand times !"

he simply rolls his eyes at you.

"you're a human, a shitty one at that, that's all i need to know about you." he smirks when you lay down onto the couch just to kick him in the shoulder. he smiles wickedly and grabs your leg, shoving it back towards your torso. you yelp, kicking your other leg up but he's faster. he's got you in his grasp, like a hunter catching its prey. his sharp teeth on display with that nasty little grin he has on his stupidly handsome face, a mischievious glint shines in his eyes and it has your stomach tying itself into knots.

"c-cut it !" you whinge. he smiles wider at your complaints, leaning over you a little bit more until your socked feet are pressed to his chest, you try to push at him, but you stop when you feel like you'll damn near break your legs trying to cause any damage to that huge chiseled chest of his, your head spins. you resort to trying to push at him with your hands, but it feels like you're trying to push a fucking wall at this rate.

"you started it, shitty human" he cackles, pressing against you harder "gotta pay for it, now."

"y-you'll crush me, you b-big lizard !" you wheeze.

"big lizard, huh?" he guffaws, smirking down at you "got some guts talkin to me like that, human."

despite rapidly losing your breath, you find the strenght to glare up at him, puffing out your cheeks. he snickers and finally relents, pushing himself away so you can finally breathe "fine, fine" he concedes "you prey animals are all so weak, barely touched you and you almost died"

"you-!" you sit up quickly, sputtering as you catch your breath "you just tried to kill me ! how's that barely touching me?!" you shot. he simply rolls his eyes at you and you think this is the longest you've seen him with a smile on his face, albeit at the expense of your poor lungs.

" relax." he answers easily, you feel like strangling him "wasn't trying to kill ya," a dangerously mischievious glint glows in his deep carmine eyes again when he looks at you " if i was, you'd know." you can't help the chill running down your spine, you mask it with a cough and turn away from him to continue watching your neglected show, turning your nose up at him. you hear his deep chuckle in response, you want to punch him.

but there's a part of you that can't help but feel a little giddy, you've learned a little more about your dragon...co-habitant. even if it's just a little bit, you feel like he's opening up to you more, very, very slowly but surely. you smile softly to yourself.

somehow, you've gotten used to living with bakugou.

[nanashi-07]

the epilogue for and reclamation is now posted, which brings the fic to a close. thank you to anyone who has been reading along ❤️

[kresnikcest]

The Graces model viewer is finally complete!

This viewer contains the character models of the party + their costumes, and all variations of unique NPCs. All models and textures are pulled from the Remaster, with the exception of the Idolmaster, Code Geass, .hack// and Toro costumes (PS3) and the BoA costume (Wii with upscaled textures).

Some of the glasses-wearing characters may be inconsistent in their lens transparency, but otherwise, feel free to lmk if there's any bugs or if I made a mistake in mapping transparent textures!

[thatswhatsushesaid]

this cat is determined to take up as much space as possible in this hotel’s king-sized bed, and i can’t even be grumpy about it because she looks so fucking cute.