#Though if he'd been less of an ass in life it wouldn't even be a thing

[kalims]

⭒ㅤnot gonna lie !

premise. pov prefect opens a ngl, except! the story they shared it from can only be viewed... by one person!

characters. first years

ace

not gonna lie ! smash tbh

unironically pretends that he never sent one when you start bombarding him.

uniquewhere: i didn't even see ur story

shrimp: [attatchment]

uniquewhere: i have no wifi to see that sorry not sorry

vehement denial is actually the most effective defense according to him. even if it bypasses all forms of realism, it's not real if he doesn't believe it to be! <- real life advice from ace trappola guys.

if you haven’t already guessed, he can indeed see the picture you just sent and just assumes his very first form of defense… no amount of proof will remove him from his little ball of: “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you gotta prepare some kind of miscrosoft presentation, and sit him down. though he will 100% do that thing where he plugs his ears in with his fingers pretending he doesn’t hear anything even though it doesn’t block out you reading out the words.

“here is the real, actual screenshot of my replies—”

“I NEVER EVEN SAW YOUR STORY.”

“ah, good! next slide after this is the views of the story!”

deuce

not gonna lie ! i like you

very demure, very straight to the point is deuce.

he would've written some long ass paragraph in all honesty but he just can't because he sees what he writes, deletes it, then cringes to himself.

atleast with that one he has the excuse for whichever scenario that might randomly ask about it.. (yes, he's thinking that far) weird flex but ok

1. "you ever confessed to your crush?" someone asking

2. "yeah sorta....." deuce

3. "???" someone confused

he was feeling reaaallyyy proud of himself. the anxiousness finally settles down, alongside with his rapidly beating heart. even if it isn't a real, confession it still brings him a bit of peace.

shrimp: I know what you did

tokyodefenders: WHAT?

there goes his heart rate.

like, you did not offer context to any of that but he's still gonna think you somehow, actually do know even if you didn't provide an explanation to... whatever it is you know about him!

tokyodefenders: whaTEVER IT IS IS NKT TRUE

shrimp: please, ur breaking my heart

shrimp: I like u too :(

heart? ascended

he's not even gonna question it. all his braincells got dumped out, and all he can focus on is that particular message. he isn't even gonna remember backtracking about the ngl cause he's gonna be like:

how did they hack my keyboard.. are they tracking it?! LOL

"I'm a mastermind,"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!" <- deuce, scared for his life.

jack

not gonna lie ! stop getting into trouble. I'm not always there to pull you out

is concerned with how many times you've managed to unknowingly walk into trouble, jack had been lucky enough (yes, him. not you, cause knowing you, you wouldn't be too phased) to be a near constant presence when the shenanigans during the tournament concluded, he stuck to you then.

as in reluctantly following around you like a tail. narrowing his eyes at the less than friendly faces often wore around you, that you were... well, amazingly oblivious to. or maybe you acted like you didn't know, the carriage didn't pick you up for nothing if you were here in nrc.

shrimp: do u rlly think I'm a troublemaker?

iheldheroncejacob: yes

the random topic being brought up went completely over his head. jack probably had forgotten he'd given the link to your story the time of your day, in all honesty

shrimp: well maybe I keep getting in trouble so u can rush in, and pull me out?

iheldheroncejacob: you're a terrible friend then

shrimp: :(

in retrospect jack is able to keep up with joking around, usually. but it's so hard to take you seriously that he takes whatever you say with a grain of salt, you're almost always tipping between flat sarcasm, or calm nonchalance between your words. it almost always has something to do with the people you're with.

the heartslabyul prefect for example, you take a kind, subtle undertone of teasing to (which is crazy, because you're scarily tame in the presence of the vice-dorm head.) and then you're all stony faced when you're with someone you don't like.

^ and you obviously don't dislike jack, if the little selfish, presumptuous nrc part of him would like to claim confidently so... would you really be joking?

only does jack realize the connection between your text, and the ask he sent when he's just finished his laps.

"I'm not your guard dog! why would you even get in trouble for that, next time I'm not even gonna spare you the time cause—"

"what a pee brain."

"what? don't compare my brain to a tiny pee—"

epel

not gonna lie ! CAN I PLS TRANSFER TO RAMSHACKLE AHHHH

you've never met anyone who's disliked being sorted into whatever the dark mirror fitted their 'soul' into as much as epel.

even without the private story only limited to his response, you're sure you could pick out his message and put a face to it.

epel, in his defense, still has savanaclaw as number one in his heart. though upon asking jack if it was possible to transfer there, the latter confirmed but it was... a tedious process, and suggested asking rook, who literally came from savanaclaw!

the boy only spared his friend a side glance before scurrying away. no use traipsing around that...

but of course, getting away from pomefiore is only a goal! always being near your proximity was a biiiiig bonus!

shrimp: hey I need ur files for the dorm transfer

catchwhathands: [escapeplan.jpg]

catchwhathands: I knew u wanted me in ur dorm!!

shrimp: actually I don't. ur the one that asked ;)

catchwhathands: who cares. I'm finally getting out of this hell YEAHHHH!!

shrimp: who said I was gonna use the files you sent?

okay, admittedly the moment he'd sent over the files, epel shut his phone, and quite literally did a victory lap around his room. making sure to frolic so vil has less chances of hearing his chaos...

the dorm leader woke up so easily from noises that you'd think rook was the reason he developed such a habit.

probably.

epel was already planning the plan! he could see the vision! maybe he could plant around ramshackle since it is a pretty big area. you guys would be together for the remainder of the year—and he'd finally bump the adeuce duo from their pedestal!

*ping*

"AGHHHHH STUPID FRIGGIN'—"

"epel!"

"sorry..."

sebek

not gonna lie ! since it is a request for unbridled honesty, I shall deliver what you've requested. you have done so without much thought, clearly! if you've given such leeway for... criticism! you, human, could use a lot more educating in terms of the glory of our eternal lord, the glorious malleus! in accordance to your previous, description of our relationship. the farthest I can give is acquaintance, but I shall only call you a companion (AKA friend) if you are atleast educated about my interests! as the good companion you desire to be!

woo, alright. he really wrote all that...

oh, uh oh.. you just got another ask from him, maybe even longer..?

shrimp: what would that make silver then

rizzvolt: my brother in arms!

shrimp: but hey, actually I do want to know

rizzvolt: ah! finally! I knew you atleast have some common decency, and sense. for that I shall agree for your request in our friendship! these are the most accurate ones pertaining the great lord malleus' biography! [link] [link] [link]

rizzvolt: is that enough? I will send you more, but only if you finish these three. I will test you rigorously to confirm that you are indeed genuine in your interest!

why he has all that, you have no idea.. if only he displayed that much dedication for his studies...

shrimp: I don't wanna learn about malleus

shrimp: I want to learn about you

rizzley: how dare you! the lord's name should only be addressed with a: 'lord', 'the great', 'the

...

sebek stares at his screen, just in the process of finishing his... educating sentence, because even in text, malleus should only be treated with the highest form of respect!

have you no integrity?! he wonders.

only then does he focus on your response, does he make a rather... dubious sound of shock? sebek doesn't know why he breaks into a cold sweat as he runs the sentence through his mind a hundred times in the span of a minute.

what is this... some sort of human illness? or maybe love—

of course he'd never even consider such a thing! (just did bro)

shrimp: sooo.. since you sent me an ask, does that mean you actually like me?

shrimp: sebeeeeekk.. did you actually read?

with the speed of lightning (and the adrenaline maybe, what else could this frantic pounding of his chest explain besides that you are indeed, dangerous!) he opens the story on your media

'send me an ask if you like meeee :)'

sebek promptly falls over.

[pyrodolls]

can you write sounding with one of the yan boys or ignoring them because of something?

GIVING SUPERFAN! AND STALKER! YANDERE BOYS THE COLD SHOULDER HCS

WARNINGS: obsessiveness, sfw, some slight su!c!de references, bayani is basically a servant and victor needs a therapist, just overall unhealthy behavior cuz they're yanderes. (i do not condone yanderes irl and this is for writing purposes) gender neutral reader, no use of y/n.

A/N: hey guys i just found out my best friend might be dating my ex bf (that made me hide in my house for a year) which is funny bc he told me "not to worry about her" while we were dating. and my birthday is in 2 hours so it's quite an unfortunate time to find out that they've apparently been dating for a few months. if it's true, then whatever LMFAOOO now she's gotta deal with him and it ain't my problem. also thanks for 1k followers, you guys are awesome!! sorry for not updating much, i just don't have a lot of motivation these days

if you ignored bayani...

bro do you *want* him to jump off a cliff???

he is panicking. he is having a CRISIS

bayani lives to please you. if he's talking to you and you just ignored him for whatever reason, he would be heartbroken. absolutely crushed.

he would attempt to ask what's wrong, and fix it as soon as possible. as much as he enjoys being mistreated by you, he'd hate for you to be upset with him for an extended period of time.

his first instinct is to fix whatever he did wrong. he would automatically blame himself, even if it wasn't actually his fault.

he always seeks your love and validation. if you were to ignore him, he would literally sink into the floor and die.

if you forgive him and stop ignoring him, he would be overjoyed. and he'd be less clingy, and a lot more careful around you. he wouldn't want you to get mad at him ever again. that would be his worst nightmare. if you want him to return to his old self, let him know he can be clingy again. if you don't, he'll remain cautious around you for the rest of his life. he just wants you to be happy with him. he can hold himself back from showing too much affection if it means you'll approve of him.

if you ignored victor...

yeah no he's not having it lmao

he'd be so butthurt. and unlike bayani, victor would be very annoying and start hanging around you more. usually he lets you do the talking, or follows you around from a far distance. but if you started ignoring him, he'd become more talkative just to piss you off.

he hates being ordered around, so he's not gonna let you stop him from interacting with you. he's gonna keep talking to you and hanging around you no matter what.

it'd take about a week for him to get agitated. he'd wonder what he did wrong, and try to ignore his insecurities by pushing them on you. instead of drowning in his sorrow, he'd turn it into anger and blame you. you're the one being unreasonable, he did nothing wrong. of course he doesn't believe that, but that's what he would convince himself. he would rather take his anger out on you, the love of his life, rather than admit how unhappy he is with himself and how he treats others.

he'd find ways to punish you for your behavior. as much as he loves you, he won't accept any disrespect. he takes it as a huge blow to his (very fragile) ego.

BUT if you gave up and started talking to him again, he'd get a huge ego boost. of course you'd talk to him again, he's just irresistible! this was totally expected... even though he was crying in his bedroom every night wondering why you weren't talking to him and got very insecure, wondering what he did to make you mad at him. would he ever confess this, though? nope.

he's too prideful to admit that he missed your voice and attention, but he'd show how sorry he is by helping you with chores and work. if you bring it up, he'll say something along the lines of: "i'm not doing this because i'm sorry... i just think you weren't doing it right. i know how to do it better."

this insecure and bratty ass man child would rather sit naked on a hot grill than verbally say sorry lmao

[moodymisty]

Oh my gosh, I just saw your post about requests being open again and I am honestly embarrassed about how excited I got. Now I just have to choose which one... which one... Aha!

I am in DESPERATE need of a White Knight Captain Titus fic. Something where he swoops in and saves a fem-reader from a horrible fate. Please give my sweet blueberry boy some good old fashioned romance. He deserves it.

(I will leave the NSFW level up to you, but I wouldn't be opposed if things got very spicy.)

Author's note: I am so sorry about this taking so long, life is kicking my ass; Also maybe not the most horrible fate, but I digress

Relationships: Titus/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Grinding/Dry humping, Armor kink, Clothed sex

“Thank you, Titus.”

Those three words could inspire him do a frightening amount of things, Titus has learned quite quickly.

They drip from your lips like the sweetest, saccharine song, always with a smile. Whether it's an Inquisitor interrupting you, a handsy lord, or the pitter patter of rain threatening to ruin your hair, Titus hears those words not moments after swooping to your rescue.

He had felt so guilty of your over respect that he'd told you of his struck record, his accusations. You'd replied that none of it mattered to you- that he seemed no less than an honorable and valiant Ultramarine. Those words fanned his pride like hot embers waiting for kindling, and Titus preened like a flashy bird under your praise. The praise of a baseline might mean nothing to his brothers, but to him, yours was everything.

It was everything he'd ever needed, and wanted.

Its in the incense choked air of the chapel that he remembers the moment a rogue trader pulled a bolter on you. The deal his captain had given you to negotiate had been tough, and your lips had fumbled oh so slightly, sending negotiations into a spiral downwards. Even your most valiant efforts couldn't save it; but when that man pulled his bolter on you, something in him broke.

That man didn't survive the moments after, and his fellow Ultramarines had cleaned up the rest.

Titus removes that thought from his mind with a literal head shake, one that causes his ear to ring a bit just for a moment.

He wants to go see you.

He knows you're fine, this ship is the safest place you could be bar none, but yet there is this tug on his hearts that demands he go to you. Like he needs to visually see you with his own eyes before he can finally cast that accursed remembrance aside. He wishes he had never remembered it in the first place- though it's an impossible wish for an astartes.

Tracking you down to a dark spot in the Ultramarine Librarium. You're casually perusing, eyeing the tomes at your level before catching sight of him. The way you light up fans the embers of Titus' pride once more, setting them aflame.

"Titus! What are you doing here?"

He instantly comes closer, breaching into your personal space of which you allow with no complaint. Your perfumed scent mixed with your natural scent wafts around him, as you look up at him with a soft expression.

"I missed you." Titus speaks bluntly and truthfully- though it's only half of said truth. Your face blooms into a smile at the sound of his voice.

"I missed you too, Titus."

You always say his name so differently, there's a softness to it- so unlike how most speak his name with disdain. They bring him in like some sort of lure, the still foreign feeling of his lips against your own. Even if he's already kissed you a countless number of times, it still feels off. Like parts of his brain are trying to lock the things he's discovered in his mind once more.

His lips dance with yours, his slightly larger mouth awkwardly pressing against yours. It may not be the perfect elegant kiss you read in your hidden novels, bound in solid black to keep the contents secret, but the passion is sevenfold. The soft mewls from your throat he greedily swallows, feeling the way your hands wrap in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feeling on your fingers grasping it makes him groan, the pain is so light but just enough to make his hearts hitch.

His massive gauntlets slide down the curve of your back to cup your ass, bunching the fabric of your dress. If he moved a bit more inward, you could feel his fingers against your cunt. Your back scrapes against the shelves behind you, knocking books out of alignment.

"There are others here, Titus,"

You whisper against his lips, feeling one of his gauntlets pulling away to your front in order to barge it's way between your thighs. The feeling makes you whimper- even if it's his unfeeling armor, even if it's through layers of clothing, your deprived senses delight in the sensation enough that your hips jerk forward of their own volition.

"They're all servitors or servoskulls, anyone who is normally in here left to listen to our chapter Librarian speak."

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth, and that hesitation no matter how minute is brushed away by the heat of his breath over your skin- the tickle of his lip scar.

"I cannot remove my armor for another two cycles, but allow me to have something I can look forward to."

He wants to hear the noises you make; the ones just for him. His duty according to his captains might be to just protect you from physical harm, but in his hearts tending to your whims is just as important.

He needs you to want him. Command anything of him, it's bred into his DNA to serve to his utmost. If only so you'll continue to look at him with such reverence.

"T-Titus,"

You feel your knees tremble but Titus holds you up, ruthlessly pressing the cold, firm plates of his armor against your soaked pussy through layers of clothes. You can feel the way your underwear is soaked, how your outer lips slide against each other slick with your own arousal, clit throbbing as you try to angle your hips just right-

His hand presses against you harder, rocking with your jerky hips. Your hands grip the collar of his armor trying to stay steady, grinding yourself against his palm like lust has consumed every one of your thought processes. Your thighs part trying to find that perfect angle, abandoning any fear of discovery for the sensation of his unyielding armor between your legs.

"M-move your hand like-"

Your breath fans across his armor, face radiating heat as he watches you with a ruthless stare. Your knees wobble and give out from under you, but Titus catches you and makes sure you move barely an inch.

You tug at his wrist and he arches his palm upward, so it's more diagonal than flat. It presses against your clit now as you grind against him harder, quicker- even through your clothes it has you shaking, knees finally giving out with a whimper as you come.

The fractured whimper you let out is nearly pathetic, breath hitching in your throat as your cunt constricts and flutters around nothing at all.

A disappointing reality, but you know his dilemma; this can be not unlike a snack to just barely keep you from starving.

"Thank you," You joke breathlessly, hands grasping the collar of his armor. There's just so much of him, the way he can overtake your entire vision is overwhelming.

"I know."

"I would never let you fall."

He speaks with his normal stoic neutrality, but there's just the slightest tilt of softness behind it. You laugh.

[puppyguppy]

You've been down this damn aisle way too long. Despite not having actually checked the time, you just know it. You can feel it. You've seen others come and go; grab what they need, like a pillow or some new sheets, then leave. But not you. Since apparently, choosing a new mattress has solidified itself as a life or death sort of situation inside of your head. It shouldn't have been this hard -- wouldn't be this hard, if you hadn't seen the sale going on. They're offering the next size up for the price of the next size down. So, like -- you could get a king, for the price of the queen you'd come here for. You've almost always had a queen, at least since being a teenager. And a queen is fine, a queen is good, just enough space for you to roll around some, pick a cooler side if need be, with a corner or two left open for the pet you might actually own someday. All in all, a queen is perfect, so really, there's no need to upsize. You've never even considered it until now. It just seems kind of stupid to turn down such a deal. More comfort, for less? But then...you'll need new sheets. A new comforter. A new duvet. Hell, might as well just get a whole new set for the whole new mattress, right? And, it doesn't make much sense to put old pillows on a new bed, so -- "They never tell you that beds will be one of your biggest battles in adulthood." You jolt, startled out of your spiraling thoughts by a deep, rich mumble. You hadn't noticed the man you've been sharing the aisle with for...gods, you hope it wasn't long. Long enough for him to piece together the puzzle of your struggle, though. You shake off the little scare with a laugh, the feeling only lingering in the goosebumps down your arms. "It wasn't supposed to be this hard. I came here with a plan, believe it or not." The stranger hums, and while he seems to peruse the options, you take a quick few seconds to, well. Peruse him. Tall, dark, and handsome is the gist. Wavy hair thrown half up his head, like maybe he'd been in a hurry, or working out, or just woken up. A bit unkempt, but not unattractive. Stalky, scruffy, and decked out in all colors almost black despite the season. At least they seem loose, everywhere except for where his hands are shoved into his pockets, straining the fabric slightly, and you can't help but wonder -- "One should always have a Plan B. Even maybe C through Z." You laugh again, because really, this is ridiculous, and you should just grab the goddamn bed you'd come here for. Mattresses shouldn't require complex mathematics, an entire alphabet's worth of backup plans, or the entire length of the human emotional spectrum. "Yeah, yeah," you huff, now a bit embarrassed. You're a grown ass adult and yet you feel like you've just been scolded by a highschool teacher or something. "The sale just caught me off guard. I don't want to regret it if I just settle for a queen and miss the chance. Besides, if I get a king and don't like it, I can always just return it, right?" The man shrugs. "Or you could save yourself the trouble. It's not like your room is big enough for a king." You laugh for a third time, because oh, oh my god, he's right. Here you've been fretting and stressing (and honestly? sweating) over beds, when really, there was never a choice. There was just the illusion of choice. You got excited over a sale, about the possibility of an upgrade, and completely forgot about the very real dimensions of your bedroom. And why you've stuck with a queen. "Fuck, you're so right. I couldn't possibly fit a -" You stop. You stop and blink. Because he is right. The goosebumps from just minutes ago shoot straight down to your toes. You swallow, saliva thickening in your throat like cement. "...How do you know that?"

[justwinginglife]

Painted With Love

Fic for my anon who requested soulmate prompt, based off the idea that when you see your soulmate the world becomes colorful.

The world was blindingly black and white: a bleeding canvas of monochromatic misery.

You didn't know how you could miss something you'd never known before, but you missed color all the same. You ached to know what the sky actually looked like, what the grass actually looked like. But everyday, you continued to endure this colorless cycle, the same bland hues boring into your retinas and making you feel less and less hopeful with each sunrise and sunset. You wondered if you'd ever meet the one who was supposed to paint your days with the color of their love.

Sometimes you wondered if your soulmate was in a cemetery somewhere, long dead. Or maybe they’d already found happiness with someone else and had no reason to come looking for you. Several of your friends had already succumbed to that idea; be with someone you know, don’t go looking for someone else that might not exist, someone else that might not want you.

But you, being the hopeless romantic that you were (emphasis on hopeless), had already made the decision to wait for your one true love. You wouldn't know what to do if they had waited for you, only to find you had already settled down with someone else. In your head, your soulmate was someone who waited. Someone who longed for you as much as you longed for them. Someone prone to large gestures and dramatic proclamations. You knew you might've just been hitting the romance novels a little too hard and with your luck, your soulmate probably had a beer belly and a sour attitude. But you waited for him, all the same.

Then one day, sooner than you expected, but longer than you would've liked, your agonizing wait came to an end.

Captain Narumi was in your neighborhood again, taking down more Kaiju, and you were out for your daily stroll. You always trusted that he'd take care of everything so you continued on your walk without a care in the world (much to his annoyance). You even watched from the sidelines, snacking on a bag of chips. When he finally had his hands free, you offered him the rest of your bag.

He sank onto the bench next to you, snatched the bag, and chomped on the chips while he grumbled about what an idiot you were for wandering into an active battle zone.

"Same time tomorrow, Narumi?" You teased.

Before he could complain any further, someone you didn't recognize came bounding towards him.

"You gonna fucking nap all day Narumi, or you gonna actually help?"

The stranger realized Narumi wasn't alone upon coming closer, and when his eyes met yours, the whole world exploded into bright, vivid color.

You'd spent all this time wondering what the sky looked like, but when the moment finally came, you couldn't focus on anything but his eyes. You wanted to get lost in them. You thought to yourself, his eyes were going to be your favorite color. His voice was going to be your favorite sound. His smile was going to be your favorite sight. His cologne was going to be your favorite smell. His lips...

Your heart roared in your chest and you wondered if he could hear it. Or if his own heartbeat was drowning it out.

You were struggling to breathe properly and yet you'd also never inhaled a fresher breath of air in your entire life. Like you'd never lived before him. Like you were finally waking up. Everything just made sense now. Any struggle you had before him was no struggle at all because he was finally in front of you and how could you take your life for granted when it now looked as beautiful as it did.

It appeared as though he were trying to adjust to the same whirlwind of emotions that you were, because he suddenly tripped on his own feet, his breath lurching in his throat as he approached you.

However, Narumi didn't notice in the slightest. "Y/N, meet the biggest fucking pain in my ass- Vice Captain Hoshina of the Defense Force's shittiest division."

You didn't know if you should shake his hand, hug him, kiss him. You just wanted to touch him. Run your hands through his hair, brush your fingers across his cheek, nudge your nose against his. But you didn't even get to introduce yourself to him before Narumi started dragging him away, effectively breaking the trance you'd been in.

You jumped to your feet. "Wait! Where are you taking him?!"

He waved you off as he walked away, lugging Hoshina behind him. "None of your business, squirt. It's Defense Force stuff, nothing to concern yourself with. I'd tell you to keep yourself out of trouble but I know you won't, so I'll see you later, yeah? Thanks for the chips."

Hoshina finally snapped out of his dazed state and started wriggling out of Narumi's grasp. "Get off me Narumi, I'm trying to talk to her." He moved towards you but only made it one step before Narumi yanked his arm back.

"Like hell you are, didn't you say we have work to do?"

If looks could kill, Hoshina would've killed Narumi a thousand times over. If looks could kill, Hoshina's glare would've dragged Narumi's ass down to the deepest, darkest pits of hell and driven a stake through his heart, effectively condemning him to the Underworld. But looks couldn't kill. And as much as Hoshina shoved Narumi off, punched his arm, and spat profanities at him, Narumi wouldn't let up.

Especially not now that he knew Hoshina was interested in you.

You were Narumi's favorite toy outside of his console and he wouldn't dare let Hoshina play with you.

When it finally looked like Hoshina had the upperhand, Narumi played his favorite trump card. He called in Hoshina's Captain.

Hoshina had just finished wrestling Narumi to the ground when Captain Ashiro arrived to take him back home.

He was torn between wanting to ask for your name, to ask for your number, and needing to follow his superior's orders. In the end, he left with her, his head hung low and his feet dragging as they went.

Narumi was smug but not for long. You punched him in the arm and he was shocked at just how much power you packed into one fist, especially for a civilian with no combat training.

He scoffed at you. "All this, for one man?"

"Gen, you absolute fucking idiot. He's not just a man, he's my man. He's my person."

His eyes widened. "You're telling me your fucking soulmate is the dweeb from the Third Division??"

"Ahh, so he's in the Third Division. Thanks for that. I think it's time for an address change now."

He took hold of your arm, his grip tight and getting more tight by the minute. "Wait, wait, wait, back it up. You're going to move to his city?? To be with him?? I refuse."

You glared at him, the fire in your eyes reflecting Hoshina's earlier emotion. "Gen Narumi, you do not tell me what I can and cannot do. Now, I'm going home, you're going to let me, and then you're going to think about what a dick you're being. Goodnight." You yanked your arm away from him and stormed off, leaving him sulking to himself.

The next day you surprised Narumi by showing up at his work. He thought you'd ignore him for days, weeks, months even. But you weren't there for him. You were there to join the Defense Force. He declined you over and over again, but it was hard to deny you when you officially took the Defense Force exam and got the highest score out of all the applicants. He did attempt to reject you again, even after your impressive feat, but he got an earful from his Vice Captain and was forced to allow you admission into the Defense Force.

You wasted no time. Immediately following the induction ceremony, you requested to be transferred to the Third Division. Narumi laughed in your face. Months went by and your transfer was rejected multiple times. At first, you tried bribing Narumi. Bought him sweets and games, spent time coddling him. But that just made him more eager to keep you around.

So then you had to switch tactics. You followed him around, annoying him to no end, at any time of day and any time of night. The middle of the night was your favorite time to bother him. You didn't need sleep when you laid awake at night thinking about Hoshina anyway, so you figured you might as well make good use of the time.

Once, you even threatened to burn Narumi's house down if he didn't let you transfer and when he didn't believe you, you singed his eyebrows off while he was sleeping as proof of your dedication. He was both too good of a friend to report you and too embarrassed that he had let you get the upper hand on him, so the incident remained undisclosed.

Eventually, you hit him where it hurt the hardest. You threatened to smash his gaming console to bits and when he said he'd just buy a new console, you said you'd never stop hunting him down. He wanted to buy a Yamazon package? Stolen from his doorstep. He just got a special edition new video game? Down the garbage disposal it goes. He was both impressed and terrified of your nerve and that led him to finally approve your transfer, claiming that you were a crazy lady and you were Hoshina's problem now.

And then finally you arrived on site at the Third Division's base.

You thought you'd gotten used to seeing colors, gotten used to red's and yellow's screaming at you, used to being soothed by blue's and green's. But Hoshina's violet eyes were something else entirely. They were entrancing, seductive, and devastatingly gorgeous.

You had planned so many different things to say when you finally saw him again but your words sank back down your throat when you met his gaze. You forgot what you wanted to say, you forgot what your job was, you forgot what you were there for, all you could think about was that you never wanted to look away from those eyes ever again.

"Hiya stranger." He grins.

"Hi back."

"How's the love of my life doing?"

Shades of red flood your cheeks. You barely knew this guy, you did not expect him to be so bold.

"Love of your life? You don't even know my name." You tease, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Ahh, well I say we fix that. What's your name, gorgeous?"

There's no use in trying to resist him, he's your soulmate after all. He's the whole reason you made a job change, an address change, a life change.

He gives you a tour of the base and spends hours just talking with you, spending every second he can with you. He's enjoying the conversation and the colors just as much as you are.

"You really singed Narumi's eyebrows off? God, I wish I was there to see that."

"You wanna see a picture? I snapped it while he was yelling at me." You show him the photo of Narumi flipping you off in the aftermath.

He laughs so hard he has to lean on a nearby lamppost to steady himself. "You really are the one for me, damn."

You smile at that. He's really taking this soulmate thing to heart. He has no reservations whatsoever about giving you every part of him, and you'll gladly take anything you can get.

He admits to you that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you since the moment he met you. It seems that initial interaction with each other, though brief, was enough to change both of your lives for the better and it warms your heart.

You tell him you thought it was impressive how he put Narumi in a chokehold just to get five more seconds with you. He puffs out his chest and you laugh and then he laughs.

It seems you always find ways to laugh together. And when you think you're the only one stealing glances, you look over to find he's already gazing at you. And when you tell him about your life, about your experiences, he understands. And when you get excited, he matches your energy, and when you slow down, he matches your pace.

The more you get to know him, the more you understand how he's your soulmate.

It only takes a second for you to like him, a minute for you to love him, and one tour around the base for you to be planning the rest of your life with him.

And when you finally think that there's no way that anyone could be this happy, that something has to be wrong, that any second you're going to wake up in black and white again, you decide to tell him that you're already planning the rest of your life with him. Babies, house with a picket fence, matching gravestones, the whole deal. You want to know if you'll scare him off, if he's not really the one, if you've imagined all this vibrant color the last few months.

But then he smiles, leans against your shoulder and murmurs against your neck, "What color do you want that picket fence, love?"

[gor3-hound]

silver lining

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, hybrid!reader, very brief suicide mention, p in v, creampie, daddy kink, a LOT of pet names

a/n: hiii! throwing out some (kinda) fluffy smut for once lmao. mainly picturing vendetta leon, but any older leon works tbh. i'm so tired, so if you see typos, no, you don't >:[ hope you enjoy !!

word count: 1.7k words

Raccoon City was something that Leon would never forget. It's been years since the incident, and he still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights with nightmares of the things he'd seen.

It's fucked him up in more ways than one. He would have killed himself a long time ago if he was sure that Sherry would be safe. The “top secret programme” the government so lovingly initiated him into isn't the way he saw his life going - but if it kept her safe, he'd grit his teeth and bare it.

Sure, he's made his peace with it, but it doesn't make it any less difficult. He runs around like the government's personal lap dog and then comes home and drinks himself half to death. It's a routine he's gotten used to, and he doesn't plan on changing it anytime soon.

But it gets lonely. He's not a stranger to flirting with a pretty girl in the bar, but he never manages to get them to stay. He's not sure he's capable of forming a relationship anymore. Work always comes up, and no woman seems to want to stick around when he disappears for weeks or months at a time.

When he was younger, he always wanted a dog. That was another thing Raccoon City took from him. He still flinches when a dog moves too fast near him or gets too close. He's never been a cat person, either. Thinks they're grumpy bastards at the best of times.

He leaves it at that for a while. Looks like he's destined to be alone. Whatever. He's used to it by now. Or he thinks so, at least, until he starts to hear about hybrids becoming more commercially available as pets.

They've been around for a while, sure, but they were the type of exotic pet rich assholes buy to show off. He hears about the new hybrid adoption center opening in his city and spends one of his only weekends off doing a shit ton of research. He's not entirely convinced, but he figures there's no harm in taking a look. As soon as he spots you, he knows he's smitten. Bat your pretty lashes at him, and he'd do anything you asked.

You're the cutest little puppy girl he's ever seen. Fluffy ears atop your head, your tail wagging so fast behind you it's practically a blur. He doesn't even think about it when he calls a worker over, paying for you then and there. He doesn't even blink at the amount of money you cost him. He'd sell a kidney to be able to afford you if he needed it. At least the government pays well.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's been a few months since he brought you home with him. You were a pain in the ass at first, constantly bouncing around his apartment. Your tail was a hazard, always knocking things off his table and breaking things.

He wouldn't change it for the world, though. You've become the highlight of his day. He finds himself smiling as he opens the door to his apartment, hearing you thunder towards the front door as he walks in. He can't help but chuckle as you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to lick at his face.

“Alright. Easy, girl. Easy.” He says with a smile, pushing you off him and ruffling your hair as he steps past you. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up and settling on the couch. “I had a long day, y'know? Could at least let me through the door before you jump all over me.”

“But I missed you.” You whine as he pushes you away from him, following him closely as he moves to sit on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too, pup.” Leon says with a grin, patting his lap. He waits for you to jump in his lap, leaning back comfortably. “C'mere, then. Don't you wanna come sit with daddy?”

Your tail wags lazily behind you as you shift closer, straddling his lap happily. His hands settle on your waist to tug you closer, and he rubs small circles into you with his thumb.

“Missed you.” You repeat softly, cuddling close to him.

“You’re a sweet girl.” He nuzzles his nose into your head and caresses your hair. “A good girl…” 

Leon hums quietly and his hand starts to wander along your side and up towards your chest. “And beautiful, too. Can't believe I got so lucky, baby.”

You giggle softly at that, tail wagging just a little bit faster as you press your chest into his hand, shivering as his thumb brushes your sensitive nipple over your shirt.

“D'you wanna play with me, daddy?” You ask softly, trying to press as close to him as possible. Your hips start moving on their own, rutting your aching pussy against the hard muscle of his thigh. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. He always smells so good when he gets back from work, sweat clinging to his skin. 

“I just got back, baby. What's got you so worked up, huh?” He teases softly, grabbing your hips and adjusting them so you're grinding down onto his steadily hardening cock over his pants instead. He groans softly, reaching around to pet the base of your sensitive tail.

That gets a twitch and a whine from you, making the corner of his mouth tug up into a lazy smile. He rocks his hips up into you until he's fully hard and leaking.

“Alright, alright. C'mon, puppy. Let's get you to bed.” He grunts, trying to act like he isn't as desperate as you. His voice is low and gravelly, brows furrowed in concentration as he lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

He plops you down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and pulling off his jacket. His hands roam your body, tugging off your clothes as he runs his palms along your curves. His eyes take you I'm greedily, his hands working to undress himself instantly.

“Fuck.” He groans as you shift on your hands and knees, ass up in the air as soon as you see his cock. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking and staining his stomach. “Always so eager…”

All he gets is a whine and an ass wiggle in response. You lift your tail straight up, presenting your glistening pussy for his hungry eyes. “Daddy, please…”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.” He murmurs, settling between your legs. He runs the pads of two fingers between your glistening folds, dragging them from your clit to your entrance, gathering the slick dripping from you before pushing them inside.

He thrusts them in and out a few times, letting you get used to the intrusion. Not that you need it - your pussy is always so drippy, sucking him in greedily every chance it gets. He curls his fingers, earning a low moan from you, your cute ears pressing firmly against your head.

“That's it.” He coos, repeating the action every time his fingers are half buried inside of you. “There's my good girl. You want my cock, don't you, sweet thing?”

All you can manage is to babble please repeatedly, already so desperate for him. He's not sure how he ever managed without you. You always make him feel so wanted, and not just when he's buried balls deep inside of you. It's nice. Makes an unfamiliar warmth build in his chest, something he hasn't felt since he was still a bright-eyed kid in the police academy.

“Don't worry, baby, I got what you need.” He says softly, pulling his fingers out of you and rubbing your juices onto the sheets before grabbing your hips. His breath hitches as he slides his length into your tight heat, his head tilting back in pleasure before he lets out a low moan.

He leans over you, pressing some of his weight against you as he starts to thrust slow and deep. He presses his lips to the back of your neck before leaning back, his thrusts picking up in pace.

“Such a pretty puppy.” He groans, gripping your tail to pull you back against him every time he fucks into you. The room is filled with your needy moans and the sounds of your sloppy pussy.

“Daddy…” you whine, drool spilling past your lips and onto the pillow your face is smashed against. He can feel you tightening around him, so he knows you're close. He adjusts his angle slightly so he rubs up against that sweet spot that makes you see stars every time he pushes in.

“C'mon, cum for me, pretty girl.” He grunts, hand tightening on your tail as the other slides up from your hip to your waist, giving him more leverage ti rock you back onto his cock.

“Fuck, daddy… cummin’!” You moan, your walls clenching so tight around him you almost push him out. He presses his hips against your ass and thrusts shallowly, keeping him buried deep inside of you as his tip grinds against your cervix.

His mouth hangs open as he feels you gushing all over him, his breath caught in his throat as his cock jumps and kicks against your cervix, the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him making him shoot ropes of his cum deep inside of you.

You whine softly again, slumping against the crumpled sheets. His breathing is slightly heavy as he drops his weight on you, pressing you against the bed.

You grunt at the feeling of him dropping on top of you, wriggling yourself free with a soft huff. You cuddle up to him after, ignoring the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. You give him a few locks to his stubble cheeks before cuddling up to him with a smile.

“Sleepy.” You huff softly, nuzzling into his neck with a content sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. He lazily wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to him and petting your back.

“I bet. C'mon, baby. Think we deserve a nap.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead before letting his eyes shut, too.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.65k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, death is mentioned and tyler gets close to it not explicitly, kissing, swearing, baby as a nickname for your lover, lot of made up family members + names

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole family, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could never biologically create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, pressing his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soup catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front door when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head towards Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem too far off.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's that of an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"...and now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or three along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

You could spend eternity like this.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

One of the carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

[tossawary]

There are some fanfiction AUs where Sidious is revealed as a Sith earlier in the timeline and Anakin refuses to believe the evidence until Palpatine is dead on the floor, sometimes to the point of physically attacking the accusers to defend Palpatine's innocence. Which depending on the exact circumstances, in my opinion, sometimes stands as an interpretation in direct contradiction to Anakin canonically turning against Palpatine in "Revenge of the Sith", before ultimately changing his mind.

Anakin is reckless and arrogant and ultimately selfish, I won't deny any of that, he's a flawed character, but... he's not attached to Palpatine as his friend above everything else. When he finds out the Palpatine is a Sith, he goes straight to Mace Windu, someone he dislikes, and gives Palpatine up to the Jedi immediately. If Anakin hadn't come back during the Windu-Sidious fight, if he'd held out for another five minutes, then Windu probably would have won. Sidious came very, VERY close to getting his ass killed at the last minute and losing everything, because Anakin was still on the fence. It seems unlikely that getting cooked by Sith Lightning was part of Palpatine's plan.

Tragedy is a matter of timing, as much as it is about specific people and places. The "when" of it matters. Anakin's fall to the Dark Side is initially all about FEAR, though it soon gets twisted into anger and hatred. He's been dreaming about losing Padmé (and their child) like he lost his mother, and he's convinced that Sidious can save her. If there's no lethal threat to Padmé, then Anakin has less reason to turn on the Jedi and jump ship.

They're about to end the war, which has made Anakin a very important and powerful figure, and Anakin is even more at odds with the Council than before. Everything feels unbalanced and the future is uncertain. He's been forced onto the Council by Palpatine and the Council is essentially asking him to ruin his friendship with Palpatine, whom he likes in spite of and because he's a dictator, and who is also likely about to lose a lot of emergency powers. Anakin may feel like the "jealous" Jedi Council intend to take their dislike out on him as soon as the war is over and he's no longer so useful to them. They will almost certainly boot him off the Council ASAP, because he is absolutely not ready to be a Master or a Councillor, despite what respect he personally feels owed due to his powers.

By a quick line of dialogue in this movie, it's also revealed that Anakin at some point TOLD Palpatine about the Tusken massacre. Anakin is presumably afraid that the Jedi would react with rightful horror to what he did and punish him; he may resent them because he knows they "wouldn't understand" his anger. If Palpatine wasn't a Sith Lord and just got arrested, Anakin could still lose everything if Palpatine decided to retaliate by talking about Anakin's secrets.

When Anakin interferes with Windu killing Sidious and Windu dies, it's because Anakin is desperate to at least spare Palpatine's life to save Padmé, but now he's FUCKED. He already wanted to be both a Jedi Knight and married to Padmé at the same time, and he thought that the Jedi Council would try to take one or both of those things away from him if they knew. But now he's helped to murder the Master of the Order, which I don't think he necessarily wanted to do, and there's no coming back from that. The "they'll take everything from me" fear has skyrocketed. He probably thinks they'll try to take revenge (justice) at all costs. He chooses himself (and Padmé, initially, before he ends up killing her too) over the entire Jedi Order and the entire Republic to escape the consequences.

After this point, Anakin's fall is less a slippery slope and more like a straight shot downwards, because it goes right into the Jedi Temple massacre. Personally, I think this jump is a little far, as it's executed in the films. I might have preferred a scene where Anakin takes the troopers and asks that the Jedi Order surrender to the Supreme Chancellor first, maybe? Before it descends into chaos? So that Anakin can angrily argue that they left him no choice? I don't know. Anakin lets all of his past resentments go wild, just throws himself into his anger, and is having some full-on mental breakdown here, which combined with some bonus Dark Side nonsense from Sidious is not necessarily unrealistic, but does feel a little rushed and uniform for my tastes in the trilogy by itself.

With Anakin and the Jedi Order's fall happening pretty much overnight like that, it gives Anakin even less time to be pulled off this path by Padmé or Obi-Wan. If Obi-Wan had been there to de-escalate the situation before Windu's death, if he had found out about Padmé's pregnancy as Anakin breaks down, he might have been able to promise that he would care for Anakin regardless and point out that Palpatine might be the true threat to her life. And Anakin might have listened to that much-needed reassurance and management of his extreme emotions. He loves (is attached to) Padmé and Obi-Wan, supposedly, and he's listened to them about various important things before. But Obi-Wan wasn't there this time.

In an AU scenario, it's not unrealistic that Anakin might not want to believe that Palpatine is the Sith Lord. If the accusation comes from someone Anakin dislikes, I do think Anakin would be even less inclined to believe it. He's stubborn. He does consider Palpatine a friend. Palpatine compliments him and strokes his ego, where Obi-Wan can be critical and distant. Anakin might be the first one to suggest that someone could be framing the Chancellor.

But for all that Anakin is reckless and self-centered and has a spectacularly violent emotional breakdown in "Revenge of the Sith", he DOES turn Palpatine in first. He knows that the Jedi Council will try to investigate, then perhaps arrest the Chancellor, rather than go to murder as their first option. When Mace Windu tells Anakin to stay behind in the Jedi Temple, Anakin listens at first. He ALMOST left Palpatine to be handled by the Jedi Council without him. Anakin's last minute choice, initially made for Padmé's sake before going into a wild spiral of bad shit, is what tips the final balance towards Palpatine's victory.

In the original trilogy, Darth Vader is game to overthrow the Emperor for Luke, so they can rule the galaxy as father and son. He DOES choose Luke in the end. Admittedly, this is after 20+ years of pain and misery and violence that has brought him no happiness, which has probably contributed to Anakin's hatred of Palpatine. But it suggests to me that hot-headed Anakin could be easily persuaded to view Palpatine's reveal as a Sith Lord as a personal betrayal, especially if it happens earlier. Palpatine is behind the whole war? Then Palpatine is responsible for Padmé and Obi-Wan nearly dying too many times to count. Anakin might be angrier and more eager than anyone else to get rid of Palpatine, for lying to him this whole time, once he gets over the surprise.

Anakin is a somewhat unstable character, but he has reasons behind his behavior. He's unstable BECAUSE he's strongly guided by his fears and his anger and his attachments to his loved ones. I think it's reasonable not to like him, but sometimes I'm reading certain interpretations of him, and it's like, "That's not why he sucks, though."

Like, Anakin is motivated by fear of loss, yes, and losing Padmé is his number one trigger point. But he is ALSO motivated at times by fear of losing his position in the Jedi Order, because he likes some of the other Jedi, and he likes being a hero and helping people to some degree (also he may have some deep-seated childhood fear about having nowhere else to go but back to Tatooine). That's why he married Padmé secretly. And I personally think he values his position as a Jedi and his home there more than he does Palpatine's friendship, especially when he's younger.

If Anakin is not losing his mind on a cocktail of Padmé death nightmares, Jedi Council politics, the end of the war, war trauma, Palpatine's potential blackmail, and so on, then taking Palpatine's side too strongly stands to lose him his position as a Jedi, all that stability and compassion, all that privilege and recognition. Yeah, Anakin can be reckless and impulsive and relies too much on being bailed out by other people, but he's not entirely without a sense of self-preservation. It's definitely not impossible that Anakin would attack and even kill someone to defend Palpatine, that he would choose Palpatine over the Jedi, you can use Ep3 as very hard proof of that, but there are plenty of circumstances where I think it's more likely that Anakin would feel betrayed and turn on Palpatine for being Sith.

Because in both "Revenge of the Sith" and "Return of the Jedi", Anakin DOES turn on Palpatine. Sidious relying too much on his manipulation of Anakin gets him cooked by Sith Lightning in Ep3 and it finally gets him killed in Ep6. Seriously, Palpatine nearly dies in "Revenge of the Sith". It's so close. Anakin can and WILL murderously turn on this guy pretty quickly if the circumstances and consequences don't line up just right.

[chipified]

Avatar hcs

Spoilers for the reckoning of Roku, the kyoshi novels and the yangchen novels. Note I still need to finish Rokus and kyoshi's books

Korra

• Korra has broken her fingers many, many times

• Her eyes are so bright and eye-catching. People stare at them a lot.

• She could pull so easily. She's great at flirting (usually) But she doesn't because she's loyal to asami

• Sure she was showing growth when she spared kuvira but she does NOT like her. Kuvira pisses her off

• Luckily she's able to make up for her lack of experience in the real world with how social she is but she is clueless about slang and she never understands references

• Jokes fly right over her head

• All of the krew has such a shitty sense of humour they laugh at the dumbest things

• Goes through like 12 hairstyle phases. She loves mixing it up

• Stubborn as hell she stood by the spirit portal decision for he entire life and death

• A really talented bender. In her spare time she attempts to recreate the feats of her past lives

• Bias towards kuruk. She thinks he looked very cool and admired his skills

Aang

• Being vegetarian spared him from the knowledge that he is allergic to shellfish

• Sokka and toph teased him about his first flirting attempts on katara until the day he died

• His death was really unexpected. He was mostly fine leading up to it. Noone could really figure out what killed him at first, it was ultimately just him overworking himself too much

• Not a fan of the spirit world. He avoids it where he can

• Koh the face stealer scared him senseless actually no matter what he says

• He was always really busy with his duties but he did try to spend as much time with his children as he could

• Was super doting on katara while she was pregnant

• Tried a long bearded look for a while. It looked awful and toph clowned on him so hard. So did his kids

• Admired Yangchen and Roku so much. Kyoshi freaked him out as a kid

Roku

• Those first few months of travelling with the air nomads sucked ass. He was constantly covered in mud, his hair was knotted and he STANK oh my god he missed home so bad

• Actually pretty clumsy. Even when he was old he would trip over his own feet all the time. Dislocated his hip once

• A pushover. Sozin would take his snacks and drag him places as small children and he'd just take it

• Sozin had no faith in his avatarhood

• Politics were a nightmare for him in his late teens and twenties because of how awkward he was. He grew into his own though and ended up decently good at negotiating.

• Has freckles, but they only show up at the height of summer

• He doesn't tan he goes red

• Low self esteem, he thinks everything he does is embarrassing

• Collected seashells. Both because he wanted to try and get reacquainted with the ocean and because he thought they were pretty

• Shortly after Yasu died, he was so petrified of water he could barely bathe. He was very traumatised for a long while

• His own safety wasn't much of a priority. Guilt consumed him, so he didn't care what happened to him, as long as the people he was close to were safe

Kyoshi

• Thank god for airbending because she is intensely affected by the cold

• Her Hands are always slightly shaky, so applying her makeup can be so annoying sometimes

• Politics bored her to death

• Queen of “this could've been an email”

Uses her height to her advantage as much as she can. It's just easier and leads to less violence

• Very kind to young children

• She doesn't mean to be harsh or rude, she's just very blunt and has a flat tone

• She got very sick very easily as a kid. If kelsang hadn't found her she probably wouldn't have lived much longer

• Insecure about her appearance. Rangi spent years convincing her she wasn't ugly

• She saw a lot of her younger self in Roku. It made her uncomfortable

Kuruk

• Hopeless romantic. Loves poetry, songwriting and those partner dances. You know damn well he took ummi on as many dates as he possibly could

• Self reliant. Asking for help with anything becomes harder and harder as he grows older (“older”). Even basic stuff like asking someone to help him carry stuff

• His parents were disappointed in him. In their eyes they raised the only avatar in recent history who just didn't do his job

• They both outlived him

• He was fantastic at bending though, he could pull of some tricks that not even his teachers could

• He should've been at the club bro!! House parties would've been his shit!! He would've eaten at karaoke

• As much as he drank he still despised the taste of vodka

• Wanted to be a father. But that didn't work out

• Trust issues

Yangchen

• Her hair started going grey pretty early into her life. She was crazy stressed

• Rip yangchen you would've loved weed

• She did not celebrate the day Chaisee died because that would be disrespectful. So kavik did it for her amen

• Really enjoyed sports. Would've killed it at baseball

• She doesn't like watching the lives of the future avatars until they hit like 25 they stress her out so hard when they're young

• One of the few team avatars to stick together for life and not retire at any point. All of them worked until they were forced to stop

• Infertile

• Tries to visit her sister in the spirit fog sometimes but can't bring herself to go in again. She stops doing this eventually

• Kavik cuts her hair. He's weirdly good at it. In return she brings him trinkets she finds in all the places she visits

• Yingsu and her have spa days together

• Her sanity was hanging on by a thread during Legacy. She was so close to crashing out

• The past lives “possessing” her was an issue her whole life, exacerbated in times of stress. Neither she or her past lives could control it. It just happened when it happened

Wan

• Realistically he knew that he couldn't just fix all the world's problems in his lifetime alone, but god he did not want to die the way he did. He really wanted a peaceful death

• The armour he was wearing when he died was slowly gathered up over the years from battlefields and things he just found on the ground

• His avatar state was slightly different from his incarnations. Since it wasn't something he was born with, it caused some issues. For example, his vision was very poor when he died

• Felt really bad about the impact he had on the other avatars lives.

• Super bored all the time. He's seen everything there is to see at this point

• Wan and raava are super comfortable they know literally everything about each other

• Never had a lover. It just didn't interest him at all. The following avatar just ended up looking similarly to him (Alternatively- he had a bad breakup with a guy and that is why none of the future avatars date men/j)

• Wan and Jaya (his friend that died fighting spirits) built the treehouse they lived in together. Yao (tree-sprit guy) met them a little later. They formed their own little family after being shunned by everyone else

• Yangchens life was his favourite to watch. Aang's life was his least favourite.

• Korra was the only one he went out of his way to speak to. He hasn't been summoned for at least a few thousand years and he just prefers to let them make their own decisions

[fortheloveoffanfic]

An Indecent Affair: The First Encounter

Sheriff Hassan x reader

Summary: On a rainy night after a town meeting at the school, the island's sheriff and English teacher act on mutual feelings.

Author's note: Look at me, back with a terrible title.

Warning: SMUT/NSFW, unprotected sex, a smidge of dom/sub dynamics, itty bitty bit of breeding kink.

Hassan chose Crockett because it's quiet; a sleepy little island four hours off the coast of the mainland, where the most serious crime was disorderly conduct by the town drunk. After his lengthy stint at NYPD came to a messy end and his wife's passing, it seemed like the perfect place to start afresh. He could reconnect with Ali and hopefully not face the same discrimination that he had in New York.

Of course, it only took a few months for Hassan to determine that he was wrong about both of those things. Ali is still upset about his life being uprooted and the people of Crockett have been less than welcoming.

Well, most of them.

He's managed to make one friend – sort of. Hassan doesn't actually know if Y/n would call herself his friend, but she's the closest thing he has to one.

She's also his son's English teacher, which is probably why she tries to make small talk when they bump into each other around town or waves at him when she passes him while he's making his morning rounds and she's jogging.

Jogging in a pair of tiny shorts and a tank top that usually seems a little too tight on her breasts, from her arsenal of skimpy workout clothes. Those moments usually make him extra grateful for the lessons of undercover work; being able to hide her effect on him with stoicism has been more of a blessing than he'd ever imagined it could be.

Because he sees the most exciting part of that boring little island when he's doing foot patrol at seven am.

If only Y/n knew what goes on in his head when he gets to his office with the image of her like that fresh in his mind. The light sheen of exertion making her skin shine, those tiny shorts hugging her ass while the top of breasts remain visible. She'd probably slap him in the face and call him a pervert – sometimes, Hassan wants to do it to himself.

But most times, he wants to bend her over his desk and –

“God,” he hears her huff as she stops to stand beside him just as after they've stepped out of the school, “It looks like it's gonna rain.”

Turning to look at her, Hassan furrows his brows. He heard what she said, but it takes another handful of seconds for him to process her words. Because of course his mind had been run amuck with lewd thoughts when it was her turn to speak at the meeting. She'd been saying something about wanting to encourage the children to read more by starting a book club, but she was saying it while dressed in tight, light wash jeans and a green, knitted sweater that doesn't make any effort to hide her curves.

“Oh,” he glances up at the grayish, milky sky, “yeah.” He wants to say more, but nothing else comes out.

“Figures tonight's the night I decided to walk.” And then, as if on cue, a drizzle starts up, “Great, great,” Y/n hastily adds.

“I can give you a ride,” Hassan hastily offers, the words leaving his mouth before he can fully think them through.

Caught off guard by his offer, Y/n stutters, “Uh…you don't have you – I wouldn't want to put you out –”

“You wouldn't be,” he threads his fingers through his beard and adds, “just…..doin’ my duty.”

Y/n huffs a quiet chuckle, just as the drizzle grows a little heavier. Thankfully, they're both still standing on the school’s front steps, where the roof extends far enough for them to stay covered. “The sheriff doubles as a taxi service?”

Cocking his lips into a half smirk, “protect and serve.”

Licking her lips, Y/n shakes her head. “Protect me from a head cold?” She giggles and his heart leaps a little. Though it isn't really the sound that rouses that effect, even if she does have quite a melodic laugh, its more knowing that she's laughing because of him.

“Pretty serious crime in my book,” he determines softly. She turns just in time for their eyes to meet; Y/n's laughter settles with a gentle hum and her smile softens. There's a glimmer in them that he doesn't think he's ever noticed before and it takes the sudden sound of thunder, like a whip cracking before a microphone, to snap them out of their little moment.

Shaking his head a little, Hassan swallows thickly and lifts his denim jacket over his head, leaving some room for Y/n to duck under it as well. “Shall we?”

“Yeah.” He thinks that's what she says, but it doesn't matter anyway because her stepping under the cover of his coat is enough of a response. That's probably the closest they've ever been, and it takes that proximity for him to realize that she's at least a foot shorter than him – which does nothing but fuel his dirty thoughts.

It would be so easy for him to back her up against a wall. Box her in, lift her off the floor and –

“It's locked.”

“What?” Despite his jacket over their heads, they're drenched by the time they get to his car.

“The door,” she grins, pulling on the handle for emphasis, “still locked.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah,” Hassan scoffs, using his free hand to rummage through the pockets of his jeans until he finds his keys. It doesn't take long for him to help her in and then get into his car after that. “Kinda defeats the purpose of offering you a ride, huh?” He jokes, tugging the door shut after clambering into the driver's side.

Y/n doesn't offer anything above a breathy laugh as Hassan gets the car started, and when he looks her way that time, Y/n hastily shifts her gaze to the road straight ahead.

She doesn't trust herself to keep looking at him, god knows she almost let impulse overrule better sense when they were standing outside of the school and then again when they'd just reached his car.

He's the sheriff. She teaches his son Shakespeare. It's wildly inappropriate and they are decent, professional people.

Which, arguably, makes the thought of it that much hotter. The tall, hunky, jaded sheriff and the young English teacher – the raunchy story writes itself.

And that's why she turns away when Hassan fixes his dark eyes on her while starting the car. Because she'll give in that time, and they're still in the school parking lot. Because the last thing she needs is the mayor, principal, a slew of parents and some of the other teachers witnessing her lunging for the sheriff.

Besides, she won't be able to bear the embarrassment of rejection. And she'd like to not have to walk through a storm.

The drive to her house, which is just one block over from Hassan and his son's, is racked with silence and a tension that Y/n figures is concentrated to her side of the car; every time she looks over at him, Hassan seems as cool and unaffected as ever. Wet hair matted to his brow, flannel shirt clinging to his broad frame and one hand firmly gripping the wheel while his other arm is casually draped along the edge of his door.

How dare he make something as mundane as driving look like foreplay?

“All good?” Hassan quips when he catches her eyes lingering.

“What?” She swallows thickly, feeling her cheeks heat up, “yeah. Totally. Good.”

“Good,” Hassan hums, returning his gaze to the road ahead as he turns onto her street. It's coming down in buckets by then, and Y/n is actually a little taken aback by how quickly the weather has deteriorated. It's been a little overcast all day, but that's hardly unusual for October and they haven't had rain in almost a month.

Y/n keeps her eyes trained outside the passenger window for the rest of the drive, which doesn't even last for very long after his last turn. When he stops at the curb in front of her house, a simple affair with exposed brick, a Dutch gable roof arched windows, Y/n doesn't get out immediately.

“Thanks for the ride,” she finally turns to him again.

Hassan nods stiffly, fingers absently tapping the bottom of the steering wheel, “no problem.”

“I owe you….like a coffee, or something,” Y/n offers, impulsively adding, “unless you'd rather I returned the favor right now.”

Immediately, she wants to kick herself for saying it, or even better yet have the ground open up below her.

“What?” Hassan rasps, head snapping up as he shifts in his seat.

“I….” Unable to gauge his reaction under his stoicism, Y/n tries to do some damage control. “I don't know why I said that,” she shakes her head hastily, “sometimes I just say….”

“Things you don't mean?”

“Really stupid things,” she huffs.

Hassan emits a slow hum. “What exactly does that mean?” He knits his brows, as if he's thinking really hard on the matter, “return the favor.”

Dragging her lower lip through her teeth, Y/n shrugs. She's already opened the can, best just let the worms out – or whatever would be a proper reconstruction of that phrase. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

He reaches over the consoul, the warmth of his large palm permeating the wet fabric of her jeans. “I've got some ideas,” his hand glides upwards, only stopping when his fingers are close enough to brush the area right under the zipper of her jeans.

“This is very inappropriate, Sheriff,” Y/n looks down at his hand on her thigh before panning her gaze back up to meet his.

“Then you could just say no,” he suggests.

Y/n means it; it is incredibly inappropriate. She'd never slept with a parent, but then again, a parent has never looked as good as Hassan el Shabazz.

“Oh fuck it.” Hastily unbuckling her seatbelt, Y/n leans over and grabs his face. As she presses her lips to Hassan’s in a heady kiss, he grips her hips and practically drags her into his lap.

“Shit,” he mumbles when her back hits the horn, “We can't –”

“What?” She breathes, words tumbling into his mouth.

“Well,” his words are barely making it out as their lips work hungrily, and when Y/n grinds against his crotch, Hassan groans loudly and squeezes her waist. “Not in here. I can…. barely…..fucking move.”

Snorting a chuckle, Y/n finally pulls away. Her chest is racked with heavy breaths and she's still gripping a fistful of dark blue flannel on one hand. “Fair. Wanna come in?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He shoots back, kissing Y/n hard one more time before she clumsily stubbles out. She leaves the door open for him and jogs up the short, paved path to the front steps.

Under the protection of the porch, and with the aid of the light she'd left on before leaving home, Y/n rummages through her small purse, finding them right as Hassan starts taking long strides towards her. She gets the door open just as he reaches her. Not waiting for them to get inside, Hassan snatches her hips again and crushes his mouth to hers.

Y/n stumbles backwards into the house, blindly discarding her purse as Hassan kicks the door shut. When he shoves her against the closest wall, she elicits a quiet oof that he eagerly muffles.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He probs, trapping her between his firm body and the cool wall.

Smiling through slower kisses, Y/n's lithe fingers travel down his front to grab his crotch, the size of the bulge there making moisture pool in her center. “I think I've got a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah?” The word is a hoarse whisper as Y/n undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, “that's not even half of it, babygirl.”

Dipping her hand into his boxers, she gasps as she closes her hand in around his impressive girth. “What else?” She croons, using her thumb to spread around a bead of precum.

Lowering his head to lay his lips on her neck, Hassan alternates between pressing feverish kisses to her soft skin and nibbling on the area around her pulse. Simultaneously, his rough hands dip under the hem of her sweater, first flattening to rove the dip of her waist before journeying upwards to knead her breasts through her bra.

“Better if I show you,” he declares after tugging his teeth away from her neck. Making short work of pulling the sweater over her head, Hassan reaches for the button on her jeans, handling it so roughly that it pops right off, the soft sound of it hitting the floor drowned out by their heavy breathing.

“You're wearing a skirt the next time we see each other,” he warns while peeling off her pants and underwear. When they reach her ankles, Y/n can't seem to kick them off fast enough, her shoes getting lost in the hurry.

Hassan's jeans and boxers don't make it past his knees before he's grabbing the back of her thighs and hoisting her up. Y/n’s legs immediately hook to his hips and he barely lets a second go to waste before sliding into her.

“God!”

“Fuck!”

Their unison exclamations are accompanied by his vice grip on her hip tightening enough to leave bruises and her nails sinking into his shoulder blades. He fills her so completely that it burns and Y/n swears she can feel him in the lower part of her stomach.

But she wants more.

“Move. Please,” she whines desperately.

Eager to comply, Hassan stirs a steady pace of rough, controlled thrusts. With each roll of his hips, he removes himself almost completely before driving back into her. Every time their hips connect, Y/n swears he's hit something no one else has ever touched and she can't help the pitched yelp that breaks her lips, combating the sound pouring rain and rolling thunder.

Gripping the back of his neck, she cups his cheek with her other hand, urging his face closer. His tongue swirls around hers and she completely relinquishes any remaining semblance of control.

Reaching between them, Hassan presses his thumb to the bundle of nerves between her thighs, rubbing it in vigorous circles and effectively adding to the growing pressure in her stomach.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Hassan encourages when her legs start stiffening. “That's it babygirl,” he praises when her hips buck enthusiastically, “I wanna feel…..just like that,” he grunts through clenched teeth when Y/n finally pulses around his length. “Fuck!”

Hassan's release is on the heel of her, generous ribbons of his hot product drenching her walls. There's a stutter in the drilling motion of his hips, but he still manages to ride out their highs with an almost assaulting pace.

And then, when they're done, he slumps forward, his weight pinning her to the wall.

Despite the coolness provided by the storm raging outside, their both sweaty and there's a stifling heat surrounding them. Her legs are as good as jelly, and when Hassan gingerly detaches himself from her, the only thing keeping Y/n upright is his steadying, one handed grip. With his free hand, he reaches between her sore thighs; collecting the bits of silky moisture in curled fingers before slipping them between her folds.

“Shit,” Y/n hisses, leaning her head to his chest, which is somehow still guarded by his wet shirt.

“What?” Hassan prompts.

“I'm not on…..anything,” she admits. In the moment, it was the furthest thing from her mind, and even now, she's more concerned about his reaction than what it might mean for herself.

In fact, there's an odd sense of satisfaction that accompanies the thought of risking it all for the sheriff – knowing that of all the women he could chose from the island, the mainland or wherever the fuck he wants to, she's the one that he fucked brainless, and there won't be any denying it.

But that's something that she doesn't want to think about right now.

“Really?” She can practically hear his smirk and it forces her to loll her head back so she can try to make out his expression in the dimess, only illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. “Then maybe we should see what happens if we do that again.”

[eroslove88]

"She only wanted to lie beside him"

Pairing: Yan. Kenma x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Stalking, kidnapping, bondage, noncon touching and noncon implied

Note: WOAH!!! I POST 2 TIMES IN A WEEK. WILD!!! Uhm yeah, this is a guilty pleasure fic.

Turning on your computer you feel a bit... dumb? It feels useless to even message him- but yet here you are. Kenma messaged you, and that's not out of the ordinary. Actually it's pretty normal, it's been normal for like 6-7 months.

You got close to him because he was in a server with a mutual friend. He goes to your high school and growing up the most you said to him was something about project years ago. Senior year- you thought that this would be the year where you'd come out of your shell but that never happened. Anxiety crashed that thought early on. When you got on a daily routine of texting Kenma you thought he'd actually want to befriend you, but that's not what happened. Long late night conversations and not a word said to each other in real life. It doesn't help that you two walk the same way home either...

Maybe you wouldn't have cared so much if you didn't have a small crush on him.

'hey did we hv hw' your computer gets a notification, Kenma. You sigh and type back, 'Yeah, the insert for this lesson.' you see that he's typing but he stops and doesn't respond until about 5 minutes later- despite being online. '👍' you couldn't help but roll your eyes and just sigh.

None the less he was an ok dude, he had offered to gift you things, games & chocolates- all of which you declined. You didn't want to feel materialistic and greedy.

'do you wanna play gungeon' you put your jacket on and replied quickly, 'Sorry, I'm going for a walk. I can play in an hour though!' you patiently waited and he replied quickly. 'k' huffing you closed your laptop, charging it before you left.

During the winter, the sun went down faster than usual. So around 7ish the streets were empty for walkers except for the occasional dog walkers.

The sound of quiet foot steps penetrated your mind. Snapping your head around you're faced with empty streets, probably paranoia you thought. You turned your music up walking down your usual route.

Even with the music playing you couldn't help but hear footsteps everywhere. You weren't so far from the park... just 3 more blocks.

The feeling of being watched burns your neck, you really should've turned around. Pounding footsteps come running towards you but you were too late. Your screams were demoted to tiny whimpers as you weakly try grasping the needle in your neck.

You were freezing, your arms and legs were duct taped together. It was a pretty lazy job, but whatever kind of tape it was was pretty fucking strong. Your vision was blurred with tears and you whimper into your gag and curled into yourself seeming to have missed the boy sitting at the desk across the room.

It wasn't until you heard the creaking of the chair and light footsteps that you felt panic. Your eyes remained closed even when he was right by your face.

The bed dipped down, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you" a small crying noise comes out from your gag as you try to beg him to stay away. He shushed you coming closer but all you could do was shake your head and try to move away, "Hey, it's ok" he spoke to you like a stray kitten as he slowly approached your trembling body, "Sh... It's only me" you knew that. But that didn't stop you from squirming in his arm as you tried pushing him away. He tisked at your pitiful attempt, " 'm really sorry for not approaching you" he mumbles kissing your head. "I knew you were lonely..." he chuckles, "But that honestly made things even easier" he let's you go and stands up. "I've been waiting a while to do this you know" he pulls out a black box. He opened it and paused "I've always been curious to see how your pretty face would look with a full pussy" he pulls out 3 big dildos, "and ass" he smirks pulling out a condom. "2 v. 2?"

[suzukiblu]

is there a way to read all of "JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy." in one spot? going through the tag it's all jumbled, and it's one of my favorite fics of yours

Thank you! I like that one, I'm really pleased with how it's been coming out. ❤

Honestly, there is not an "all in one place" version of it, though, so have this read-more that will fix that problem for you, friend. This is the whole WIP so far (barring, like, some out-of-order bits that have not yet been woven into the larger whole, haha).

.

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. It's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP. 

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked-up shit he's done and said to Tim. 

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates. 

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession. 

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts. 

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something? 

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that. 

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking besotted Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is. 

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him. 

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from. 

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really. 

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up. 

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever. 

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely. 

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway. 

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises. 

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that. 

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather. 

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate. 

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment. 

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern. 

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were." 

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and then steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him. 

Goddammit. 

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much. 

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway. 

Fuck, he'd better be. 

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not. 

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now. 

Ugh. 

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid. 

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit. 

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show. 

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though. 

"'Bored', huh," he says instead because if this is somebody hitching a ride in or fully copying Superboy's body, there is no fucking way that he is coming out on top in a one-v-one with a Kryptonian hybrid. He might be able to get away, maybe, but then he'd be leaving a probably pissed-off fake Superboy with free rein on his territory and every reasonably innocent person in it. 

Yeah, that seems like a stupid idea. 

"What can I say, I like a bad boy," fake Superboy says, smirking at him again. Jason would be embarrassingly into that smirk, if not for the fact that it's not Superboy wearing it. Right now, he just wants to deck this fucker. "Don't you?" 

"I could maybe see the appeal," Jason says, though he doesn't usually. Honestly, he's more a romantic than anything else. He knows he won't ever get that, especially considering what he's done and who his soulmate is and how very, very disgustingly in love with his brother said soulmate is, but–not the point. Either way, Jason's not gonna be honest about his taste in partners with a damn fake version of his goddamn soulmate. 

"Yeah, I bet you could," fake Superboy says with a wider smirk as he steps in a little closer, all the way into Jason's personal space. All of Jason's internal alarms go off, his spine prickling in restless discomfort. 

He really, really hopes Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight. 

“We're taking bets now?” Jason snorts dubiously. Fake Superboy grins at him, and it's worse than the smirking because it's not just a suggestive come-on, it's one of the pleased looks the real Superboy would never give him. Something he saves for Tim or Steph or Dick or literally just anyone else. He's pretty sure he's seen him grin like that at Bruce, even. 

Though it admittedly does lack some of its usual effect when Jason can't feel any of the emotions behind it. 

“You can take anything you want, Hood,” fake Superboy purrs, skimming a hand up Jason's chest. If he were Superboy, this would be the part where Jason called him an asshole and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, except if he were Superboy he'd never actually be doing this. Superboy loves Tim. Adores him. And he's not a desperate for attention teenager anymore, much less this kind of a selfish fucking prick. 

So Jason is just stuck on this stupid fucking roof with a stupid fucking fake, and this fucking funhouse mirror is the closest he's ever getting to his own fucking soulmate. 

The wait on this damn panic button better be a short one. 

“‘Anything’, huh,” he says, folding his arms. The fake Superboy gives him another smirk and taps his fingers against the underside of Jason's jaw, just where his helmet fastens. 

The fastener clicks, and his helmet falls apart and falls right off him and into fake Superboy's hands. Jason should've left the bomb in it. 

Tactile telekinesis. Okay. So the fucker does have access to Superboy's powers, one way or another. 

Fuck. 

At least Jason wore his domino tonight. He doesn't know what this asshole actually knows, and he might be legally dead, but compromising any Bat-related identities is still not the place to start. 

“You're too damn hot to wear this clunky-ass thing all the time, you know,” fake Superboy says, turning over Jason's helmet in his hands and still smirking at him. Jason would really like to make with the pistol-whipping right now. “Real waste of a pretty face.” 

“We don't all have bulletproof skulls,” Jason says dryly, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“You'd be bulletproof if I got my hands on you,” fake Superboy points out casually, which is not actually an application of TTK Jason was aware of but does raise a lot of questions he is not going to internally explore. Ever.

“Who said you were getting your hands on me?” he says, and the fake Superboy laughs and taps his fingers against Jason’s helmet. 

“Dunno,” he says, tilting his head with a sly expression. “I wouldn’t mind it the other way around either, though.” 

Fuck his life, Jason thinks. 

“I’m on the clock here, you realize,” he says, and fake Superboy laughs again and then pulls a mock-pout. 

“C’mon, Hood. Told you, I’m bored,” he says, somehow actually managing to find the space to step in closer without quite touching him. His grin is a sharp, glittering thing. “Play hooky with me.” 

This panic button cannot possibly work fast enough, Jason thinks. 

“Fuck it, whatever,” he says, because fake Superboy is clearly not taking no for an answer here and he just needs to buy a little time for someone to get here. Hell, even if fake Superboy were taking no for an answer, he’d probably still want to keep the asshole around as opposed to letting him slip off and put on who knows who else’s face. Better to get him while they’ve got him clocked, one way or the other. “It’s been dead all night anyway. What do you want?” 

Fake Superboy’s grin widens. If he was the real one, Jason would want to bite him over that expression. Unfortunately, he’s not the real one. Again: fuck his fucking life. 

“For starters, bet I could liven things up for you,” fake Superboy purrs, and then he props Jason’s helmet on his cocked hip and braces his free hand on the bricks behind him, leaning in close with an absolutely smug “coy” expression. Jason considers biting him in the not fun way. 

Eh, no, he’d probably just break his fucking teeth. 

It’s a fucking temptation, though. 

“Yeah?” Jason drawls dubiously. “Big talk for a Super.” 

Fake Superboy snickers. 

“Yeah, they tell me I’ve got a big mouth,” he says with an obvious leer. “Wanna see?” 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jason asks, curling his lip in irritation, and fake Superboy laughs. 

And then actually kisses him, the fucking shit. 

Jason barely manages not to punch him for it. Again, he’d just break his knuckles. 

The fake Superboy sticks his tongue in Jason's mouth and Jason gets absolutely no sense of a soulmate bond, so whatever's going on, Superboy is definitely not in the driver's seat right now, or just not home at all or what the fuck ever. So yeah, that's a no on mind control and probably also possession, and definitely not the effects of red or black K. Not that the total lack of empathy bond response all this time hadn't already proven that pretty damn thoroughly, considering. 

Also, the real Superboy's always had a rep as a flirt and if nothing else definitely spends way too much time in Tim's back pocket to not be a better kisser than this by now. Seriously, Jason refuses to believe that he is not, if only for Tim's sake. This prick kisses like he barely understands the concept.

Fucking figures, Jason thinks, and crushes their mouths together. 

Fake Superboy kisses like a fucking middle schooler, and Jason is absolutely exasperated about having to put up with it. Like–it’d be one thing if it was actually Superboy kissing him like this, and if Superboy wasn’t dating his fucking brother. Then he’d probably think it was funny. Or even kind of cute, honestly, especially with how the guy preens and postures and plays it up. 

And then he’d get to teach him how to kiss better, too, and fucking relish the process. 

This, unfortunately, is not that situation. This is just some asshole wearing the face of the hottest bastard Jason knows and not doing it justice with his sub-par kissing skills.

. . . actually–“her” sub-par kissing skills, maybe? Jason actually has no fucking clue if this is a man or a woman, does he. For all he knows this is an actual middle schooler, which holy fucking Christ, is an absolutely disgusting thought. If this is some kid with shapeshifting powers who somebody coached into this, Jason is going to crack out the good ol’ bloody duffel bag and start collecting heads again. 

He’s pretty sure they’re not, at least, because they might suck at kissing but they don’t move like their body is too big or anything like that. Then again, they don’t move like their body doesn’t fit either, so their powers might be accounting for that. Or–whatever they’ve currently got going. Maybe it’s a fucking spell or maybe it is possession and the muscle memory is keeping Superboy’s body moving at least semi-normally. Again: this asshole has this act down to the microexpressions. 

It’s just so, so screamingly obviously fake all the same, though. 

Jason breaks off the kiss to bare his teeth at said fake, who grins at him all crooked and sultry-warm. Jason, again, debates the merits of breaking his knuckles on this asshole’s face. 

“You can’t kiss for shit,” Jason says bluntly, because only a fucking idiot wouldn’t notice that anyway, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“Aw, you don’t like it like Rob does?” he asks teasingly, his grin widening as he leans forward a little heavier on the arm he has against the bricks. Jason is absolutely fucking offended that fake Superboy is trying to convince him that any brother of his would ever settle for kissing that fucking mediocre, much less like it. As fucking if. “Why don’t you show me what you like, Hood? I’ll roll out the red carpet."

Jason should tase this piece of shit. Jason should <i>shoot</i> this piece of shit. Unfortunately, this still might be Superboy’s body even without him in it, and he didn’t pack kryptonite tonight either way. Assuming, again, that kryptonite would even work. 

He’s absolutely never skipping the kryptonite again, though. Not after this bullshit. He’s going full Lex Luthor and getting himself a pair of kryptonite brass knuckles, in fact. And not in blue: he’s going green. 

“You really think I wanna hear about Robin right now?” he says in the hopes the fucker will shut up a little, and fake Superboy just smirks and loops his arm around his neck, pressing fully up against him. Jason is wearing body armor, obviously, but that doesn’t make him feel particularly safe right now. The TTK alone would be an issue, even discounting Kryptonian strength. Fake Superboy could flatten him like a fucking panini with about as much effort as actually making a panini would take right now. 

So like, that’s a concern. 

“So still the jealous type, huh?” fake Superboy purrs, tilting his head a little. He’s much better at “come-hither” looks than he is at kissing, Jason can’t help noticing, which is fucking irritating. He’s also still got Jason’s helmet held against his hip. Jason is weirdly annoyed by that. “How about I just call you ‘Robin’ tonight, then?” 

Jason did so much therapy to not have this exact fucking fucked-up sexual fantasy. Just so much. 

He is definitely shooting this shithead before the night is over. 

“Try it and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick,” he says flatly, because there’s playing along and there’s shit he just cannot truck with, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Kinky,” he says approvingly. Jason thinks longingly of kryptonite. 

He really, really hopes kryptonite works on this fucker. It’d have to, right? TTK isn’t exactly a standard-issue superpower; the fake’s got to at least have copied Superboy’s body, and that means copying his vulnerabilities. 

Hopefully. 

Of course, Jason doesn’t actually know jack shit about what’s actually going on here and narrowing it down isn’t working half as well as it could be, so . . . fuck if he actually knows if it’d work. 

He really doesn’t appreciate not being prepared in a crisis. Like–that is the literal antithesis of his entire fucking approach to life, is what it is. 

He’s going to need an extra therapy session this week, he’s pretty sure. Possibly several. Maybe he’ll just call his therapist first thing after they wrap this bullshit up, actually, assuming he survives it. That might be for the best. 

Or literally psychologically fucking necessary so he won’t snap and turn into a literal supervillain. One or the other. 

“You’re seriously overestimating my patience, Superboy,” he says flatly. The fake looks pleased, presumably because he still thinks Jason’s falling for this stupid act. 

“Don’t be such a pill,” fake Superboy says, smirking at him. The idea of pistol-whipping him sounds better and better. It’s almost definitely not gonna work, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Jason wouldn’t try it. “Why don’t you just be nice to me, and I’ll give you plenty of reasons not to be jealous tonight. Or at least don’t bore me as bad as Rob’s been, if nothing else."

Jason is going to burn down . . . mmmmmaybe all of Gotham tonight, actually. Like. Just all of it. Completely. Entirely.

[blushblushbear]

Scale, Seth and Haru husband headcanons pls?

ngl I think all 3 of these dudes would have a weird adjustment period to being husbands, though frankly I think Scale would maybe have the easiest time (well-- MAYBE Haru, but okay---)

Scale

I think the biggest change from boyfriend to husband is going to be him questioning if he should continue his assassin work

He's not going to set down his knives quickly or lightly but like----

he has a spouse now

he doesn't want them becoming a widow/widower

OR EVEN WORSE GETTING CAUGHT UP IN HIS BUSINESS??

bruh, he would DIE

I highly doubt he'd actually end up quitting but there WOULD be some changes around here

for starters--- he has a better divide between his personal and professional life

This is maybe me watching too much venture bros but I really do like the idea of Scale adopting a sort of on the clock/off the clock mentality ("That's my business-- but we're not at the office right now, ya see")

also he gets WAY more protective

your home is probably laced with all kinds of booby traps

and he DEFINITELY makes you run drills

like fire drills but instead of fire it's enemy assassins

Aside from the stuff pertaining to his career, he's actually a very sweet and loving husband

Not necessarily a 'I made a home cooked meal in my apron' every night kind of loving but more a 'I stopped by that place you like and got us dinner' type

also def kind of nerdy husband but less about magic or dnd and more about weapons and armor (though don't get it twisted, he'll get down hard on some dnd)

lots of quality time whenever he's home

lots of texts when he's away

lots of cuddles on the couch and falling asleep in each others arms

he knows your favorites and brings flowers when he's been gone for a while

you're his home <3

and frankly he's very protective of that home

Seth

okay honestly

Seth is probably the one who has to step up to being a proper husband the most

at the start he's definitely bad at this whole 'being a good husband thing'

but all it takes it you getting visibly frustrated with him a handful of times and he realizes he needs to up his game

his life is REALLY different now, but if he gets to spend it with you it's worth it

and for what it's worth he's actually really good at apologies

and also good about being sincere about them too, it's not just fluff to get him out of trouble

he's also very protective of you but he's not as 'DECLARATION OF HIS UNDYING LOVE AND PROTECTION AGAINST THE LIGHT OF THE MOON' as Scale is about everything

also is actually really good at listening to you vent/share work drama

also always offers to send your annoying co-workers to hell

you say no but the offer still stands

is only really good at barbecue and baking so anything too far past that you're gonna have to order in or cook for the night

also I don't know if he'd suggest this first but if the subject of having date night comes up he's actually really really about date night

likes to take you somewhere nice or fun or both

also will try to convince you to adopt a hellhound

this will be a forever conversation in your marriage, just letting you know now

Haru

so look

I'm not saying Haru would ever cheat on you

actually far from it

BUT I WILL SAY that going from a long ass life time of tom catting around every night to a committed long-term monogamous relationship is going to be a major life change for ANYONE

including Haru

that being said that's actually kinks you worked out early in your relationship

I do get the sense that Haru low key misses his old life a bit, but knowing you has changed him too much and he could just--- never go back ya know??

and frankly he wouldn't want to

but again that's like--- also stuff that was dealt with during boyfriend stage

actually honestly, once you're committed to each other, he legit doesn't see you as anything other than his mate

married or not his attachment is the same honestly

marriage isn't JUST a human thing but it's more of a you thing that a Haru thing

as far as he's concerned you two are as good as married already

all though who could pass up a party to show you off and celebrate your union???

so yeah-- you'll have to bring it up, but Haru is down to marry you right away

so I think with Haru, YOU'RE going to have to change your life the most due to marriage

he's kind of the leader of a whole group of people

he's not going to make you come live with them, but you ARE gonna have to at least be next door

that's gonna be the biggest marriage hurdle depending on who you are

though if push comes to shove he is willing to find a successor and run away with you

but low key please don't make him do that cause his people need him and he loves them and also he'd feel guilty about it FOREVER haha

but yeah past that married Haru is not much different from boyfriend Haru except he's a little bit more clingy/up front about pda etc cause HEY that's his SPOUSE, he's allowed

he also does REALLY LOVE calling you his spouse in front of anyone and everyone as many times as he can

[itgirlgyu]

txt if you had explosive diarrhoea (and it is was your fault!) UNSERIOUS*

۫ ִ ﹗ 𓏸 💥 txt!ot5 x gn!reader. ⊹ ݁  🥛 ⋆ WARNING!!! lots of shit talk as it is a normal part of life!!   THIS IS A JOKE!!!

CHOI YEONJUN!

oh he's there for you.

a bit too much than what you would consider appropriately sweet tbh.

he's right there behind you chasing after you when you're running for the toilet just to make sure you're not dropping dead on the way.

he's right there outside the bathroom door assuring you that he'd be there for you even if you end up clogging his bathroom.

he bought a new bathroom plunger anyway he's happy he's getting to put it to a good use because of you.

while you're in there trying to shit as quietly as possible cause you know he has his ears against the door making sure you're not in too much pain.

tries to help you but ends up making it worse by feeding you bananas.

after seeing you take 10 trips to the bathroom in 20 minutes tries to force you to the hospital.

but he stops after you make him get the medicines.

even though he's a little bit overbearing, he makes you feel so comfortable and wakes up with you every time you have to go the bathroom

sitting on the bed all serious with his hands on his chin as if you were performing a surgery in the bathroom.

after you kind of get better, that's when the teasing starts.

dangles spicy food in front of you because you got diarrhoea bc eating too much of it.

chokes on it immediately after.

CHOI SOOBIN.

im not denying the fact he won't be all sweet, and nice, and caring about your dire condition.

which YOU got yourself into.

but I'd be lying if I said he didn't grimace a few times.

because that's only human nature to feel like that when the person next to you is about to shit themselves but that doesn't mean soobin loves you any less.

now you're fighting both for your love and the urge to shit your organs out.

he's outside the bathroom, scratching at the door to explain his side and prove his love for you while you were on the toilet rethinking the course of this relationship.

it would have been kind of dramatic romantic, something out of a movie scene if your ass wasn't on fire.

"not only my ass is burning but my heart is too because of you."

and it gets worse when he brings up if you didn't pig out on those chili ramen this situation wouldn't have transpired to begin with, and then he bit his tongue.

so now after another four violent sessions, sniffling and talking about ending it all, you two finally make up after exchanging some sappy declarations of love and then go to get ice cream.

soobin thinks that this has only brought you together and he's ready to buy adult diapers for you with his own money knowing how expensive diapers can get.

CHOI BEOMGYU.

he'd be concerned about you.

if he wasn't busy laughing his ass off.

you're there fighting for your life and the rights of your asshole that is getting absolutely demolished.

and he's outside the bathroom fighting to get his lungs to work properly because he laughed a bit too hard.

asks your rhetorical questions like how do you even end up in this situation while wheezing

as if he was not the one who instigated you to accept a challenge of eating however many chilli's you could

when you rightfully blame him, he's like,

"oh you could have just eaten one"

that dessert may be worth it but the fear dying while shitting the toilet isn't

and you decide to shove his head into the toilet for putting you in this predicament when you come out of the bathroom for the umpteenth time.

but those threats soon melt away in your throat when you see the arrays of things he has gotten to help you get better

from an assortment of candies that you love to the flowers you've once told you liked the smell of along with all sorts of medicines for your stomach issue.

absolutely doesn't stop making diarrhoea jokes for a number of weeks tho.

you could be arguing about what to watch while having dinner and he would be like,

"oh don't you have somewhere to go? i just bought this couch you know?"

KANG TAEHYUN.

oh he's big mad.

and you're like confused, like taehyun?!? am i not suffering enough?

he's sitting on the end of the bed with his chin on top of his fingers, brooding as though you're giving birth to a bastard child of his.

he's just mad at you for not caring for you health and downing four packets of spicy ramen as though he has had you starved for a few weeks

like have you heard of basic etiquettes?

forget that? does common sense ring a bell?

and now you're sitting on the toilet thinking,

"are these tears bc my bootyhole burning or because taehyun is roasting me goddammit ?"

like this is not the time to ride the ass my bro

but he's also like super concerned that's why he got a little mean because when you come out you see him sweating more than you

got you thinking like

damn is diarrhoea contagious?

and he's gonna take you to the ER and gonna get you to sit through the test and tell the doctor why you are here for and what's the texture of your stool and whose fault is it truly

he thinks shaming you might actually get you to understand your fault

and it kinda does work

but don't worry he's giving you head pats and kisses as he feeds you the medicine.

HUENING KAI.

when you tell him you're having involuntary radioactive missile launched from your asshole

his first response was, "okay let's get you some adult diapers."

kinda weird how it was not to get you to the hospital but you were honestly expecting you a, "EW"

however strange his answer may be, you were sort of fluttered at his suggestion until you realised he actually meant it.

he was already pulling out his wallet and you had to physically stop him and ask him just to get you some medicine

doesn't complain a bit about the smell when he's sitting outside the bathroom door giving you company when you exhaust yourself and collapse in the bathroom.

force feeds you electrolytes while telling you that you will get better soon :(

hes there for you at every step like he's holding your hand as you drink water and now wait for you stomach to stop churning.

he's there wiping the sweat off your forehead with his napkin.

you might as well have gotten on one knee and proposed by the way he was taking care of you.

didn't flinch once when you darted and the smell could make a skunk hang its head in shame.

"it happens baby," he says while patting your head.

you cry.

he takes a picture of you two to commemorate this event that brought you two closer and a reason why yall got married

everyone assumes its a picture from when you were in labour

you always jab his foot when he tries to correct the people

COPYRIGHTS RESERVED TO ITGIRLGYU 23'. FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

PERM' TAGLIST: @impureperhaps @full-sunnies @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @beoms-sugar @gyuletters

[wolfofcelestia]

Chances I'd become their girlfriend if I met them irl

I was just thinking about this because the idea of me and Xav being "the couple that should have been" keeps popping up in my head lmao

Zayne

Assuming I was his childhood friend too, it would be less awkward than if we were strangers meeting as adults, but it would still be kinda awkward at the beginning. It would be like when MC first saw him again at the restaurant, but that awkwardness would be drawn out for like at least 4 months lmao

I don't think either of us would make the first move. It would just be us slowly getting closer and closer. I'd probably fall stupidly in love with him the moment he gives me a cute little snow animal, but our relationship would definitely move at a glacial pace, mostly because of his busy work schedule but also because neither of us would want to rush the other one too quickly

I think we'd eventually work out though, down the line. Slowly melting for each other, slowly warming up to each other

Overall, 95% chance I'd become his girlfriend. It would just be a very long game, which, to my demisexual ass, would be absolutely perfect

Sylus

Listen man. I have anxiety. And this guy's lifestyle would definitely exasperate that. The only way I'd be with him is if he pretty much hounded me down, kept giving me gifts, kept contacting me so that I'd always expect and look forward to receiving his gifts and messages, and pretty much kept annoying me until I gave up and accepted him as part of my life

But my major issue is his lifestyle. He would have to accept me as someone who needs protection from whatever would trigger my anxiety, but this man knows how to shut people up to make it quiet and calm, and he knows how to create a safe and comfortable environment, so it's... not impossible for me to become his girlfriend. He just won't have the badass MC fighting beside him like in the game. Instead, he'd have like... a kitten to take care of. (I'm so mad I made that reference.)

75% chance I'd become his girlfriend. Or rather, his live-in pet. The pace would be pretty quick, I think. He's very proactive and determined, so he wouldn't stop with his gifts and his persistence until I gave in

Xavier

This guy shares my star aesthetic and my interest in games. He's cozy and comfortable. Literally nothing wrong with him and everything right about him. And yet. I don't know??

Assuming we'd be living in the same building, I feel like if he wanted me, he'd absolutely have to be on the offensive because I would just be completely oblivious to his feelings and see him as a close friend. Even if he bought me a bunch of plushies and cute lights, and stayed up with me all night playing games or cuddling on the couch watching a movie until we fell asleep... even if he straight up started getting touchy, I'd be like "you're a good friend" to him the next day asdfalskj

I don't know. Maybe in a moment of weakness, I'd be able to see him in a different light, but the chances are slim. And he'd have to be really straight forward with me to convince my dumb oblivious ass that he wants to be more than just friends

35% chance I'd become his girlfriend. It would be really difficult to see him as more than just a friend but considering he would live so close, he has the chance to be the first one to help me if I'm dealing with any problems, so it's not impossible. The pace? The pace would be non-existent because the change in relationship would depend on the circumstances

Rafayel

I can't swim!! I'm pretty sure I get sea sick too! And I know absolutely nothing about art!! But as someone who lives near the ocean, I do have a connection to the sea. I don't know how he and I would get together though. If anything, he'd get me with his fire, and his ability to put on a show with it. Then again... that kinda circles back to me being a star-aesthetics girl who's drawn to little lights lmao

His personality would probably be helpful when I'm feeling down, but I feel like I'm too... stoic? Uptight? For his whimsy and silliness. And if I were his bodyguard... man, he'd be done for. I don't want to be responsible for someone else's safety. Any sign of danger and my anxiety would SPIKE

Yeah, I feel like me and Raf are just way too different. I wouldn't say it's completely impossible since, again, in a moment of weakness, his personality would be helpful in making me feel better, but overall, I feel like there would be around a 10% chance I'd become his girlfriend. Like Xavier, this would completely depend on circumstances but it's not looking good for him so far

Caleb

Assuming we grew up together in a orphanage-type situation, it would be hard to see him as anything other than a close friend who'd always be beside you as a close friend. And from what little we've seen of him so far, I'm not so sure. For one, I'm not into being called pipsqueak by some guy 30cm taller than me. Like?? You wanna come down here and say that to my face??

I'd imagine him being just as comforting as the other boys for sure but, yeah it's hard to say from where we are in the story right now. For now, I'd put him at a 10% chance. Like with Xavier, he'd be stuck in the friendzone but even more so because Caleb would be a sort of "friends forever" type of friend. How do you move on from that?

[cryptidcircuswrites]

THE GHOST OF YOU

!- House x Wilson, canon divergent, s4 finale spoilers, dead!House, ghost!House, series, moderate angst

Doctor James Wilson is certain he is losing his mind.

His best friend and his girlfriend had been involved in a bus crash. The vehicle had flipped completely upside down.

House had, as usual, gone to a bar after work to drink away whatever emotions he wouldn't confront. Wilson hadn't been home when the phone rang, House once again asking his only friend to clean up his mess.

Amber had gone. Amber had ridden the bus with him in his place.

And the bus had flipped, and House had died instantly.

Doctor James Wilson, despite being surrounded by friends, family, and colleagues, had never felt so alone in his life. He feels guilty that staring down into the casket of a man who had been a complete ass at all hours of every day is the loneliest point in his life.

But it is.

Doctor Gregory House is dead.

And there's less than ten people who care enough to show up to the funeral.

Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman, Chase, Cameron, Amber, Thirteen, Taub, Kutner, and House's mother.

(His father had died shortly afterwards. House's mother blamed the grief. House would have scoffed at that.)

Well, maybe not less than ten. But still not that many.

Wilson isn't the one noticing, though. Wilson's too preoccupied with the sensation of hands on his shoulders, all comforting. He can't even decide which ones belong to who.

He can't think about that right now.

House's body lay there, right in front of him, as though asleep.

•••

Wilson wakes up in the middle of the night. He'd slept on the couch, making some excuse to Amber about his back. Wilson didn't have back problems, but Amber knew what he meant and didn't fight him on it.

He'd just lost his best friend of a decade and a half, after all.

It's expected that he has some weird reactions. Like deciding to sleep on the couch so Amber isn't woken up by his intermittent crying, or having intense flashbacks every time he closes his eyes to the funeral, or obsessing over old memories.

But James Wilson had some reactions he was sure weren’t normal, too.

How he could smell House- whiskey and faint sweat and sometimes cologne and the hospital and Head and Shoulders shampoo.

How he could hear House, near constant calls of Hey Wilson! and Jimmy and the stupid, immature jokes and comments he would have made if he'd been alive to take part in the conversations.

How he can still feel the comforting hands on his shoulders from when he had stood there, staring into the casket.

Yes, James Wilson is sure he's losing his mind.

Especially when he rolls over and sees a dead man standing in his living room.

In the dim light, House looks almost ominous. His deep-set eyes seem to almost glow, the rest of his wrinkled face cast in shadow.

"Wilson."

He swears he hears his name, whispered harshly from House's thin, dry lips. He swears if he reached out, he could touch the appartition.

Psychosis- an acute or chronic mental state marked by loss of contact with reality, disorganized speech and behavior, and often by hallucinations or delusions, seen in certain mental illnesses, such as schizophrenia and other medical disorders.

"I know you can hear me, Wilson."

Symptoms include hallucinations, delusions, disorganized thought or speech, disruptions in sleep, and social withdrawl.

"You know how I know? You're tracking my movements."

Wilson shuts his eyes tightly.

Treatment includes-

"Now you're just being an ass about it."

"You're not real," Wilson mutters. "You're not real. I'm losing my mind."

House frowns, swiping some trinket off a shelf. It shatters when it hits the floor. He continues, like a mischievous cat, until Wilson rolls over.

When he opens his eyes again, the mess is still on the floor.

So much for psychosis.

•••

House materializes back in his old office.

Cuddy had been quick to clear it out. Clear him out, he thought. Several years and several hundred cases, and he was gone in two days. He wondered briefly if anyone had thrown a party at his passing-- he knew of at least three people who hated him enough.

He'd seen Cuddy bury herself in her work, though. The way she obsessed over hiring his replacement, over handling the paperwork he'd never gotten a chance to do (not that he would have anyway), always referring to him as the open position.

Cuddy was distraught, he knew that much. And Wilson was...

House didn't think there was a word for the grief Wilson was experiencing.

He felt the smallest fraction of it as he looked around the now-empty office. Everything felt lifeless, like he'd never been there. His desk had been cleaned out, his guitar shipped off to his mom's house. All of his childish knicknacks, gone. His apartment had been similarly packaged, shipped to his mother, who'd probably lock it in a storage unit, forever...

House couldn't breathe, which made sense because he was dead. He had no lungs, no diaphragm, no esophagus. But he felt like he couldn't breathe, too--

Wilson had ignored him. Wilson! He'd rolled over on the couch, all of House's life was gone, any proof that he'd ever been, gone! And Wilson had rolled over.

Shut his eyes and turned his back.

Desperate to prove he's still here, House shatters the windows.

Apparently, ghosts can still have panic attacks. Apparently, ghosts can still feel agonizing physical pain when they refuse to process those big emotions.

Or at least, the late Doctor Gregory House can.

Apparently, ghosts can also pass out. Mercifully, House knows no more.

•••

Wilson isn't sure why he decided to go this route instead of calling a therapist. Maybe because he's afraid he's losing his mind, maybe because he's afraid he's overreacting, maybe because this is what House would've done instead of being a normal fucking person. It doesn't matter. He's already broken into the empty apartment.

He produces the novelty ouija board from its box, lighting a few candles. According to the movies, you needed those. Also according to the movies, he shouldn't have come alone if he wants to leave alive.

Wilson isn't sure he wants to leave alive. Maybe he'll try the therapist after all...

He circles the little plastic piece on the bigger plastic piece. All of it’s shitty plastic junk. This was a stupid idea. House is dead, and Wilson is crazy. There’s no reason-

Wilson shivers, losing his train of thought.

He’s about to brush it off, when House materializes in his old apartment, staring at a disheveled Doctor James Wilson.