#but im stubborn and HAD to make a dumb joke | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hxlxnaaa · 1 month ago

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𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a year after the breakup, one fight still haunts them both. when sylus shows up again, it all comes rushing back—every kiss, every scream, every regret. they miss each other. they need each other. and this time, they’re not letting go.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: ex boyfriend sylus, canon divergence, slight angst if you squint, dw there's comfort, brief mentions of zayne, reader is VERY briefly implied to be a student, plot with porn, emotional make up sex, like crying during the deed, slightly toxic but they're in love, they're healing ok, sylus is a simp, reader is down bad, this is soft and filthy at the same time

★ 𝐰𝐜: 10.5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: this came to me in a prophetic vision and i needed to write it. i LOVEEE the idea of ex boyfriend sylus. like mmmm give me more…. anyways im not very good nor comfortable with writing smut but i had to do it so here it is. i hope i executed it well LMAO. was originally gonna be porn with plot but i got too locked in… enjoy!

Nothing about the breakup was amicable.

It wasn’t one of those slow fades, where two people quietly drift in different directions until they’re just gone. No, it was one fight—loud, sharp, nasty and just downright cruel. The kind that leaves a ringing in your ears and words you wish you could take back. One moment, and everything you were just blew apart.

You didn’t walk away.

No, you crashed—hard. Spun out of each other’s lives like planets knocked off course.

You always fought like that—both of you stubborn, neither one willing to back down. It wasn’t anything new. You’re not even sure what exactly made you lose it that time.

Maybe it was the way he embarrassed you in front of everyone. Maybe you’d had too much to drink. Or maybe you were just finally done. Done with the constant tension, the little digs, all the crap you kept letting slide. Just sick and tired of his shit.

You don’t even remember what you said, just playfully whining to your friend beside you.

“You get used to her overreacting. She just needs attention.”

And then everyone laughed. Maybe at you, maybe just at the joke—who even knows anymore. He always had a way of getting people to laugh like that, soaking up attention with that slick charisma he wore like his dumb expensive cologne. And this time? That charm of his came at the cost of your dignity. Your pride.

You bit your tongue and swallowed everything you wanted to scream. Unlike him, you weren’t going to make a scene—not in front of all your friends. No, you kept your mouth shut, had a few more drinks, sat in silence the whole Uber ride home, and waited.

He followed you inside like nothing was wrong, started taking off his coat like he always did, settling in like it was just any other night. But you stopped him. Told him to hang on a second. Then you walked straight to your room, grabbed every single thing he owned—every sock, every hoodie, every stupid little trinket—and dumped it all at his feet.

And that’s when it started. You brought up what he said, how he embarrassed you, how he made you feel like a goddamn joke in front of everyone. And of course—of course—he didn’t take you seriously. Laughed it off, like he always did. Like your anger, your hurt, was some kind of performance he’d already seen too many times.

Like your overreacting was just a grab for attention.

That’s when you snapped. You weren’t just arguing about that night anymore—you were tearing into everything. Every moment you’d swallowed your pride, every time you felt small, every time he talked over you or dismissed you like you didn’t matter.

You started throwing his stuff at him, screaming like your chest was on fire, like you could rip his voice out of the air just to make it stop. Told him to get the fuck out, that you never wanted to see his stupid fucking face again. It was bad, the kind of fight that had cops on the doorstep. That was the only thing that finally got him to leave. The only reason that ugly night finally stopped.

Then came the texts—him cycling through the five stages of grief in your messages.

‘Sweetie, you know me better than this. What happened to us, to you?’

‘Can we just sit down? I’ll listen, really. I’ll hear you.”

‘Don’t throw away everything we’ve built in one moment of anger.’

You had to silence his calls, his texts. Your phone had practically turned into a vibrator with the way he was spamming it.

But you never found it in yourself to block his number.

Once, you walked out of class and there he was, waiting outside like he’d been watching for you. He tried to talk to you, and you had to practically sprint to get away. After that, you started taking different routes to your classes, finding back ways around buildings, just to avoid him. It felt like you couldn’t even breathe without him showing up.

He sent gifts to your doorstep; monetary, thoughtless gestures like expensive jewelry, new designer clothes, extravagant bouquets. But on nights you spent cramming for exams or buried in the library, you’d come home to meals from your favorite restaurants or baskets filled with all the snacks you loved.

There was never a note, but you didn’t need one. You always knew who it was from.

But it didn’t take long for it all to stop. The texts, the gifts, the way you’d catch glimpses of him standing around places you used to go. You thought you’d be relieved, but now… it’s different. Sometimes, you almost miss it—the reminder that he was still there, still trying. It felt like you still mattered to him, even if it was twisted.

Despite all the fights, he was good. Good to you, and just good in that rare, complicated way some people are. His heart was made of gold and steel—soft in places, unbreakable in others. He just didn’t always know how to use it.

But you know you mattered to him. You felt it, even when everything else was falling apart.

Right person, wrong time, you guess.

Because despite your 3 year relationship coming to an abrupt, sudden and earth shattering halt—life goes on.

Though, it took a while.

At first, his constant pleas for forgiveness built a wall between you and any real chance at healing. And then there was the regret—that heavy, gnawing feeling that maybe, just maybe, you’d made a huge mistake. That maybe you’d let go of the best thing you ever had. Lost something you weren’t sure you’d ever find again.

It didn’t help that you shared the same circle of friends. He was everywhere—smiling in group photos, lit up in stories, slipping into your feed like a ghost that refused to rest. You’d catch a glimpse, tap the tag, and spiral into his page like it was muscle memory. You told yourself it was harmless curiosity, that you just wanted to know if he was okay now that the begging had gone quiet.

But deep down, you were searching for something else.

Hoping he hadn’t moved on.

Eventually, you found a rhythm. Learned when to look away from social media, which friends to sidestep in conversation. You slipped into a beat that no longer used him as an instrument.

And slowly, quietly, you began to write a new song.

Without Sylus.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You sat cross-legged on the floor of Zayne’s apartment, your head resting in your hands as you watched him work. His eyes were locked on his laptop, fingers moving with careful precision, while his glasses kept sliding down the bridge of his nose. Every few minutes, he’d pause just long enough to push them back up, never once looking away for long.

You’d been seeing each other for a few months now. It had been a year, finally a full year, since everything fell apart.

“Better to get back out there,” you told yourself.

You met Zayne through one of your new friends. He had asked for your number, and you gave it to him without thinking too hard—if you did, you’d start to feel the guilt you were trying to desperately ignore. He’s a doctor, living the kind of life that sounded like ambition carved into marble—precise and immovable. He had plans, timelines, a path so clearly mapped out it felt like there wasn’t room for detours.

He’s sweet. Gentle in ways you didn’t realize you needed.

He doesn’t set off fireworks in your chest, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe peace was always the thing you were chasing.

But, sometimes, being with him felt like standing in a waiting room of his life. Like you were something brief, something meant for now but not later. A warm presence to come home to, but never quite a part of the long term picture.

Because of that, you weren’t exactly together—but you weren’t not together, either. It was strange, undefined, but it worked. You didn’t know if you were ready for something more serious yet, a new commitment after what came before.

And Zayne was so different from him.

Zayne was calm where he had been wild. Predictable where he had been chaotic. Steady where he had burned.

But sometimes you missed the fire.

The way he could make you feel like the center of the universe with just a look, the way everything with him was urgent, desperate, alive. It hadn’t been easy, but it had been electric.

With Zayne, it sometimes felt like you were too much for him. Like he didn’t really know what to do with all of you. But with him, it was the opposite—he couldn’t get enough.

Zayne was still a good guy. That should’ve been enough.

Even if you already knew what it felt like to be wanted completely. Wanted like a storm.

"Do you want to grab food?" you asked, tapping gently on the back of his laptop. You knew better than to interrupt his flow, but you hadn’t come over just to sit and watch him work.

He hummed in response, barely acknowledging you.

You sighed. "So you wouldn’t care if I blew up your apartment?"

Another hum.

To be fair, he had promised dinner earlier. He just needed to finish his work—and then he just needed a bit more time… And then a little more after that.

That was three hours ago.

This time, you reach for the top of his laptop screen, and his eyes flick up to you—blinking slowly, like he’s just now registering the reality outside of his research paper.

Zayne frowns, the disapproval clear on his face. You mirror him with a frown of your own, arms crossing over your chest.

"It’s getting late," you say, your tone edging on impatient. "Let me know what you want, and I’ll go pick it up."

“No, it’s alright.” He finally shuts his laptop with a quiet click, then takes off his glasses and sets them gently on the table beside him. His eyes meet yours—tired, a little guilty.

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” he says, voice softer now, like he means it.

You shrug in response, but inside, your thoughts begin to stir.

They did this sometimes—whenever Zayne did something even slightly wrong.

He would never do that.

He would never make you wait more than an hour—and that was only if something came up. He always respected your time, always made sure you knew you were a priority.

He was always there when he said he would be—in every single sense.

The guilt rises again, thick and suffocating in your chest. Guilt for what you did, guilt for even thinking about him when Zayne is right here. The way Zayne’s hesitation, his lack of urgency, makes everything feel distant.

‘If he would never do that, why don’t you go back to him?’ Though sarcastic, the thought cuts through you bitterly. You scoff, but the question lingers.

“Where do you want to go?” Zayne asks, his voice pulling you out of the fight with your own subconscious. You blink, disoriented for a moment, before his words sink in.

“Anywhere you’d like,” he continues, “As an apology for making you wait so long.”

You don’t know why you say it, and you're not even sure if you want to go there, but the words leave your lips anyway. You tell him you want to go to this place across town.

Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the history of that place, the weight of the memories tied to it, the way it feels like a part of him still lingers there. And you don’t want to taint him with that—don’t want to drag him into this aggressive, aching space inside you.

But it’s like everything in you aches to go there, anyway.

To feel a fragment of him again, even if it’s through something so small, so insignificant. Just to be near a place that once held the kind of warmth you crave now. To feel a piece of what it was, even if you know you’ll never truly get it back.

To just miss him for a second.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to drag Zayne along. He’s clueless, unaware of the heaviness of this strange little hole in the wall restaurant. Doesn’t know why you stay silent the entire ride, eyes fixed on the world outside, every single tree passing by like a painful reminder.

You can feel the hole in your chest, the space he used to fill, and it’s all you can do not to let it consume you.

When you arrived, even the bricks outside were enough to make your heart lurch. For a second—an honest, long second—you forgot who you were with.

You turned, expecting to see silver hair, eyes like cut rubies, that familiar warmth of a presence that used to pull the air from your lungs.

But instead, you were met with something gentler. A forest, not a flame.

Zayne took your hand, his brows drawn with concern. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You forced a smile—too quick, too practiced—and nodded.

“Yeah.”

But even as the word left your mouth, you could feel the lie settle in the air between you.

The inside was just as cruel. Small and warm, familiar in a way that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed. The feeling was a tie between a warm hug and suffocating.

Maybe you were a masochist for letting yourself come here—for asking to be brought back to a place that held a feeling you’d buried so deep it shouldn’t have surfaced this easily.

It was just a small place you found by accident one lazy evening. But once you fell in love with it, he made it tradition.

Every weekend, like clockwork, he’d take you on a date. And more often than not, you’d ask to come here.

Eventually, the owners knew you by name. Knew your usuals, your laughter, your habits—the shape of your love, even.

And standing there now, with Zayne beside you, the warmth and familiarity turned sharp.

You realized what you’d done.

Who you were with.

And for a moment, regret bloomed in your throat like a bruise.

Were you that ex? The one who dragged new boys through old memories like ghosts on a leash?

No.

Zayne wasn’t your boyfriend. So it didn’t count. It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

You found a table in the corner, far from that quiet little booth tucked near the stage—the one that had soaked in your fights, your laughter, your deepest conversations.

The one that still held all of that messy, complicated love.

Far from the exposed brick wall where you’d once scrawled your initials with the red lipstick you always carried.

His favorite shade.

You still have it in your purse. You never took it out.

Why didn’t you take it out?

The band was bustling, the loud jazz music crashing against your thoughts like waves. You knew Zayne would hate it here—too loud and too cramped for him.

The faint frown tugging at his face confirmed everything you already knew.

You had to order at the bar, and you silently hoped—begged—that he’d take the hint, take the lead.

You just wanted to stay in your seat, stay still; let the noise swallow you whole while you slipped quietly back in time.

Just for a little while.

And he did. Zayne stood with a sigh and made his way to the bar, already checking his watch like he couldn’t wait to leave.

You stayed seated.

Let your eyes wander around the room, soaking in the soft haze of memory like it was smoke in your lungs.

You imagined another version of this moment—one where you weren’t sitting there with someone you knew well, but still felt like a stranger; who held your hand too gently, smiled too politely.

One where the seat across from you was filled with someone who looked at you like you hung the stars, the sun and the moon alike. Who never looked at his watch because time was never wasted with you.

From where you were sitting, you knew the only thing you’d be able to see through the crowds of people at tables was the band and that stupid, beautiful booth.

You couldn’t look at it.

You wouldn’t look at it.

You looked.

Oh.

You met his eyes, and the world forgot how to spin.

The air stilled. The conversations and music seemed to pause, a single note stretched out across eternity.

Everything—everyone—stood frozen in place.

Time held its breath.

And for one impossible second, it was just the two of you again.

What was he doing here?

Was the universe playing some cruel trick, drawing you both back to this place like gravity? Why your booth?

Why now?

His eyes scanned your face like he wasn’t sure you were real—like you’d stepped out of a dream.

Then came that smile.

The soft one; the one he used to give you in the quiet, perfect moments when the world was small, just the two of you.

There was no venom in it. No pain. No trace of the wreckage you left in each other.

Just something tender.

As if none of it had happened.

As if you were still okay.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

It was instinct, not decision—like your face moved before your mind could catch up. Like your chest cracked open just wide enough to let the light in.

It felt like winter turning to spring, when everything thaws out and comes alive again. when the frost softens and color creeps quietly back into everything.

Your heart bloomed, slow and trembling—like a flower daring to open again.

He lifts his hand in a wave, mouthing “Hello.”

“Hi, Sylus.” You mouth back

Your lips felt strange shaping his name. Like they weren’t used to the syllables anymore—like they’d forgotten the rhythm of it, the way it used to sit so easily on your tongue. It felt foreign now, like a word in a language you once knew by heart but hadn’t spoken in years.

Everything started moving again when your drink was sat in front of you. You looked up, and Zayne’s face was tired, pained even.

"Thank you," you murmured, fingers idly twisting the straw. He stayed quiet, as he always did, his gaze fixed on the band, listening to the music, indifferent to you.

You glanced over at the booth again, just to make sure.

And he was gone.

Your heart froze up again, going back to winter. The flower that had started to bloom died in an instant.

Did you just imagine him? He was there in a second, gone the next.

Was coming to this place such a bad idea that you started hallucinating your ex boyfriend?

Suddenly, the once familiar comfort of this place turned on you, becoming suffocating and unbearable. Heat crawled up the back of your neck, a flush of panic exploding beneath your skin. Every hair on your body stood on end, as if now bracing for something that wasn’t there.

Your chest tightened, breath shallow, the music too loud, the walls too close.

What the hell just happened?

You pushed your food around the plate, appetite long gone, and caught glimpses of Zayne doing the same.

The high had worn off—whatever rush or adrenaline that had carried you through the moment had collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but a deep, aching hollowness in your chest.

All you wanted was to crawl into bed and fall apart. To let the tears come in the dark, mourning the vision your mind had conjured up like some sick joke.

To sit with the guilt of missing him. Of returning to this place. Of dragging Zayne into the wreckage of your past.

He didn’t know a thing—not really. You never told him. Never told anyone, if you were being honest.

It wasn’t something you ever felt the need to say out loud. You kept it locked away, tucked in a corner of your soul like something sacred and shameful all at once.

But now, sitting here, watching Zayne shrink into his chair, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d tainted him, too. Dragged him into a history he had no business being part of.

Was it you? Or was it this damn bar? Maybe both were cursed.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, muttering something about needing a moment, but really you just needed to slam your head gently against a stall door and splash cold water over your face. Anything to snap yourself out of whatever spiral this was.

You stood in front of the mirror, blinking hard, like maybe the reflection would shift. That maybe you’d look solid again—real, awake and breathing. But as you smoothed your hair, you really looked. For the first time in what felt like ages.

The circles beneath your eyes were deeper than you remembered, carved in like bruises you forgot to cover. The spark behind those same eyes had vanished, a dull, empty quiet staring back. The color in your cheeks had faded, drained from your skin like it had somewhere better to be.

Where had it gone?

With him.

Your life went with him.

You walked back out to find Zayne at the bar, settling the tab. His expression was unreadable, but it didn’t take much to tell—there wasn’t a smile left in him tonight. His eyes were low, his mouth set in a line.

This was going to be a long ride home.

And it was. Long. Silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t just quiet, but loud in all the wrong ways. The kind that pressed against your ears and made your throat tight. The air in the car felt thick, like you couldn’t swallow a breath.

Would it have killed him to turn on the radio? Like, just a song? Was he that mad at you for dragging him somewhere out of his comfort zone?

The answer was yes.

“Listen,” Zayne said as the car rolled to a stop in front of your apartment. “Can we talk for a second?”

You knew what was coming.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You replied, turning toward him with a hollowness in your voice. There wasn’t any way this night could get worse.

He let out a breath, one of those slow exhales people do when they’re trying not to make something worse than it already is. His hands fell to his lap, unsure, then found the wheel again.

“You’re great,” he started, eyes fixed somewhere ahead, like looking at you would make it harder. “You’re really sweet. Kind. But I think…” A pause. A swallow. “I think we’re headed in different directions, two very different people.”

That damn bar.

“Yeah.” You repeat again, hand reaching for the door, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“You’re great though.”

I heard you the first time, you want to say.

Instead you just nod, climbing out of the car and heading inside.

When you see his car pulling away through the glass of the lobby doors, something inside you gives out. The tears come hot and fast, spilling before you even reach the elevator. You don’t care who sees.

The couple down the hall pauses mid conversation, shifting awkwardly as they juggle grocery bags and avoid your eyes. The old woman waiting by the elevator doesn’t look away—after a second, she rifles through her purse and presses a butterscotch candy into your palm.

You thank her as you both take the elevator up. She doesn’t say a word, just gives you that soft, knowing look only age can shape. The kind that says heartbreak is universal, and survivable.

You’re still crying when you reach your door, fumbling with the keys through blurred vision. The tears come in waves now—messy, relentless—and you’re not even sure what they’re for anymore. It’s like a year’s worth of grief, pressed down and packed tight, finally burst free all at once.

It wasn’t really about Zayne. You’d known for a while you didn’t belong in the future he was building, and he wasn’t ever really yours to begin with. But tonight? Of all nights?

Really, karma? You think, bitterly. Was this supposed to be funny?

When you finally get inside, something feels off. You pause, your hand still on the doorknob. It was light out when you left—had you accidentally turned a light on? You don’t remember doing that. The glow from the kitchen spills out like an omen.

You shut the door slowly, silently, and that’s when you hear it—a shuffle.

Your body locks up. Heart in your throat, you reach for the pepper spray on your keys, hand trembling.

Of course. Of course. Out of all the godforsaken nights for your apartment to get broken into—it had to be tonight. Because why wouldn’t it be.

What luck!

You catch a quick movement—and without thinking, you lunge, instinct taking over. A desperate swing in self defense. But just as fast, you’re caught. Arms wrap around you, pinning you back against the body of whoever’s in your home.

This is it, you think, panic thundering in your chest. This is how I go. What a night to die.

But then—

“Easy, kitten.”

The world stops. Your entire body goes rigid.

That voice.

That goddamn voice.

A voice you haven’t heard in thirteen months and twenty eight days. Not that you were counting. You tried to stop counting—god, you did—but the days clung to you like dust in sunlight. Every hour ticked by like a relentless grandfather clock, towering in the corner of your mind, never breaking and never missing a chime.

Always ringing.

Always reminding you.

And there it was again. Smooth as velvet, soft like the worn fur of a childhood bear. It wrapped around you with the grasp of memory, gentle and impossible to forget. Like your favorite song buried deep in your mind, untouched for years, and yet the moment it plays—you remember every note, every breath, every rise and fall.

You don’t know if you want to turn around. There’s a part of you that’s afraid he won’t actually be there, that if you look, you’ll just be staring at an empty room or some figment your mind cooked up to fill the silence—because maybe you’re imagining him again. After the night you’ve had, it wouldn’t be too far off.

Maybe you’re just tired, emotional, and your brain is pulling memories of your ex out of storage. And honestly, with the way things have gone, that would be exactly your kind of luck.

You’re yanked out of your spiral when he turns you around, slow and careful. And there it is—his face. That same stupidly beautiful, maddeningly familiar face. The one that made you laugh, made you cry.

Sylus, Sylus, Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.

You don’t know whether to swing at him for breaking into your apartment or hold onto him so tight you melt into his bones—crawl into his skin, make a home in his ribs. Never leave his side again.

He searches your face, stares at you like he’s just as unsure of your existence as you are his.

You take a step back, putting some space between you, letting your eyes scan him like they might find something new. But he’s the same. Same worn coat, same styled hair he swore looked better like that, same silver “S” hanging from his neck. But his eyes—they match yours, tired and drained. Like everything of the past year sits on his chest, just like it does on yours. And suddenly, he doesn’t look so untouchable anymore. He looks just as haunted.

It’s on you, if you’re being honest. Sure, he said some things that cut deep, and yeah, you were exhausted—mentally and emotionally by that point. But you’re the one who tossed three years away like they didn’t matter. Like they were disposable. One angry moment, one impulsive decision, and it was all over. You didn’t stop to think about what it would do to him—or to you. And when the dust settled, you were too damn proud to go back, to say you messed up, to admit that walking away wasn’t really what you wanted. You both lost something special, because pride got in the way. Because despite all the arguments, he was your person. And you were his.

“I made coffee,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

“At this time of night?” you reply, eyebrows lifting but not really questioning it.

You can’t find it in you to ask how he got in, or even why he’s here. The words don’t form, caught somewhere between exhaustion and surrender. Tonight has taken too much out of you—emotionally, mentally, physically. You’re too drained to be angry, too hollow to press for answers. And maybe, deep down, you don’t really want to know. Maybe pretending is easier.

Pretending you came home from a hard night, and he was here, waiting for you like he used to. Like nothing ever fell apart between you. Like the months without him hadn’t happened, like the space between you two had never formed in the first place.

You know it's ridiculous.

Definitely unhealthy.

But in this moment, you don't care. You're tired—so, so tired—and the comfort of familiarity, even a fractured one, feels like the only thing keeping you upright. Because maybe you're a little crazy. Or maybe you’re just lonely. Maybe you’ve spent so long missing him in silence that your heart doesn’t know how to stop.

The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s trying to smile but can’t quite get there. And that’s when it hits you—since seeing him today, not once has he worn that usual smug grin he always carried so effortlessly. No teasing, no playful glint in his eye. Just this look, like you’re something out of a dream. Like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and he doesn’t fully believe it. Like you’re some kind of miracle, and he’s still trying to convince himself you’re really standing there.

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where two mugs sit on the counter. You stop when you notice them—your matching mugs, the ones you picked out during that trip, the ones shaped like a cat and a crow. You remember how you practically screamed when you saw them, all excited like a kid in a candy store. Of course, he bought them for you, because that was just who he was.

He’d do anything for you.

You don’t know why you’ve kept them, not after everything. But there are certain things, small things, that you can’t bring yourself to let go of. These mugs are one of them. They hold too many memories—too many nights spent tangled in blankets during movie marathons, too many late night conversations at the kitchen table over cups of coffee just like this.

And the moment you take that first sip, you realize—he still knows exactly how you like it.

Sylus leans against the counter, watching you. Analyzing.

“What’re you thinking about?” You mumble over the rim of your mug. He raises an eyebrow in surprise before standing up straight, rolling his shoulders back as if he's gathering the confidence to speak his mind. It’s strange to see Sylus like this—like he has to work up the courage to say something, something you’ve never seen him do before.

"Who was the guy you were with tonight?" He takes a drink.

You scoff. "Sylus, be for real."

"Is he your boyfriend?" He sets his mug down a bit too forcefully.

"You really broke into my apartment over a guy?"

"I asked you a question first, sweetie."

"Fine." You roll your eyes, setting your mug down and crossing your arms. "No, he's not my boyfriend. Well, kind of. But whatever he was, he’s not anymore." You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head at the irony. "Actually, he ended it outside."

"Is that why you were crying?" Sylus’s expression hardens, and you regret your choice of words for Zayne’s safety.

Sighing, you shrug, not really sure how to answer that. “No, I think that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.”

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

He was never great at comforting people, but Sylus was one of the most caring and empathetic people you’d ever known. He just wasn’t always good at showing it.

"I don’t know." You avoid his gaze, fingers tracing the rim of your mug. "I went to the bar tonight because I wanted to feel something. Feel a part of you again. And I don't think I realized just how much I missed you."

You surprised yourself with how easily the truth spilled out, after all this time. But that was always the way with him—honesty never felt like work. It came naturally, like breathing. You used to hate that about him, about what he brought out in you. Because maybe if you'd kept more to yourself, held your tongue a little tighter, you wouldn’t have fought so much. Maybe silence would’ve saved you both some hurt.

"Seeing you again brought everything back, and it was just a lot all at once. Then I got dumped after all of that. Kind of felt shitty."

You were ready for him to bite back, make a remark that would start a fight. Say something about how all of this was your fault anyways. Ignite the flame.

Honestly, you kind of wanted him to. Wanted to feel some sort of sick piece of your previous life together.

But he didn’t. Just pressed his lips into a line while he paused to think.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology felt foreign, strange even, coming from him. He was never one to admit he was wrong, and for a moment, you wondered if this was one of the rare times you’d ever hear him say he was sorry.

“For... what?" Confusion flickered across your face. It was painfully clear for once he wasn’t the one in the wrong here.

"I'm sorry things ended that way."

You weren't sure if he was talking about the night or the entire relationship, but as you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, you whispered, "I'm sorry that it ended at all."

Sylus finally smiled—really smiled—the kind of grin that cracked through the solemn silence like sunlight after a storm. Like he’d been holding his breath this entire time, just waiting for you to say those words.

You lifted your hand, stopping him before the moment could get ahead of you. “The fight we had was stupid. And breaking up? That was impulsive. Irrational.” Your voice wavered. “And maybe... maybe you were right. Maybe I do just overreact.”

“No.” he said, already making his way to where you sat, each step careful, like approaching a wild thing.

“No?” you echo, blinking up at him.

“No,” he says again. “You were hurting. And I didn’t see it. That’s on me too.”

He kneels beside your chair, resting his hands on your knees like he used to when he had something serious to say. His eyes search yours, looking for anything and everything.

“I should’ve asked you what was wrong instead of trying to fix you like you were some project. I didn’t know how to handle you—us sometimes. But I never stopped—” His voice catches for a quick second.

Sylus swallows hard, eyes glancing to the floor. “I never stopped thinking about you. Missing you. Hoping you were okay.”

You stare at him, heart tight in your chest. You want to say something but your throat burns with unshed tears, eyes stinging and cheeks hot.

He lifts his hand, hesitant, brushing his fingers just barely against yours. “I don’t want to keep pretending like losing you didn’t tear something out of me.”

You don’t even realize your hand is moving until it’s already holding his. It fits the same way it always did—like nothing had changed, and everything had.

“Then don’t,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to each of your fingers, then lingers at the inside of your wrist like he’s afraid to let go.

“Come back to me, sweetie. Please.”

You lower yourself to the floor beside him, knees brushing the cold tile as you refuse to let him bear the weight of this alone. He didn’t belong down there—not without you. If blame was to be shared, so was the burden. You had always been equals, and you’d meet him where he was, just like always.

Gently, you take his face in your hands, cradling it like something fragile. Your thumbs brush over his cheeks as you tilt his head from side to side, memorizing the features you never truly forgot.

He’s Sylus. He’s home. He’s your heart and soul.

“I never really left,” you whisper.

Sylus leans in, slowly and carefully—just enough for his nose to brush again yours, a quiet question hanging in the air between you. Not demanding, just hoping and waiting.

You close the space with a kiss, gentle and unsure at first, like trying on a memory. But the moment your lips meet, it all comes rushing back—how seamlessly you fit. Like you were made with the shape of him in mind.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, tentative at first, then grounding. The kiss deepens just a little, and it’s not desperate. It’s not about lust. It’s about grief and forgiveness, about missing someone so deeply that your soul aches and yearns to touch theirs again.

Yeah, that doesn’t last long.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you. But suddenly your hands are tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer like the space between you is unbearable. Like air doesn’t matter if he isn’t in it.

His lips crash back into yours with more urgency this time—less hesitation, more ache. It’s not soft anymore. It’s desperate. Months of wanting, of regret, of missing, all boiling to the surface and spilling out through every touch, every kiss, every small gasp between breaths.

Sylus groans against your lips, his hands everywhere at once—your hips, your back, your jaw—as though he can’t decide what to touch first, only that he has to. Your fingers slide under his shirt, palms skimming fever warm skin, and he shudders like the contact burns. He decides on one hand sliding up your back, the other buried in your hair as if to anchor himself there. You let him. You want him to. You want to feel all of it—everything you’ve been pushing down since the moment he got dragged out of that door a year ago.

When he pulls you into his lap, it’s not gentle. It’s a need—as if not having you near him physically hurts.

At least, it hurts you.

Your thighs cradle his like instinct, and your bodies slot together like they never really stopped belonging to each other. Like you’re two atoms destined to combine.

The kiss deepens, grows messier—teeth and tongue clashing. Breath shared like oxygen. You’re not even kissing anymore, not really. You’re devouring, rediscovering. Worshipping with your mouths. He breaks only to gasp, to mutter your name like hes singing a psalm, saying a prayer, like he’s drowning in the taste of you.

“You didn’t waste any time,” you pant, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

He grins against your mouth, finally giving you that signature, smug smirk he wears so damn well. “I’ve had thirteen months and twenty eight days to starve, kitten.”

Your laugh is breathless, and it breaks against him as your hips roll forward just once. He chokes on a gasp and grips you harder, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down your throat, dragging teeth and tongue and heat as he goes.

Clothes shift. Shirts inch upward, skin revealed in patches, in hurried grazes of fingers that tremble with the weight of too much time passed. You could cry from the way he touches you—like he’s both reverent and ravenous. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again if he blinks.

Sylus.

“I missed you,” he says, and the words hit you like a lightning strike—hot and electric. It’s enough to draw a sound from your throat, a soft whimper at how deeply you feel it, in your heart and your core. Like music played in a key only your body recognizes, a melody you’ve been yearning to hear.

Because he wanted you all this time as badly as you wanted him.

No, he needed you. And hearing it now, in that voice, in this moment, feels like being set free.

Set free from all of that guilt and pain that’s been haunting you like a vice.

You cup his face again, thumbs sweeping over skin you used to call home. The skin you’ll call home once again. “Then take me back,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his. “Right here. However you need.”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t remember standing—you don’t think you did. All you know is the feel of Sylus’ arms wrapped around you; he carries you down the hallway like muscle memory, navigating your space with the ease of someone who never truly left. And in that moment, all you can think is, ‘please don’t leave again.’

He’s on you again before you can exhale—lips crashing to yours like he’s been waiting to breathe, to feel, since the moment you left. Since that moment the cops had to practically drag him out of your front door.

It’s desperate, disheveled, the kind of hunger that comes from months of lonely nights and phantom memories traced on cold sheets. Nights where you buried your face in the pillow that still held the faint shape of where he used to sleep, moaning into the echo of him, aching and wet for the hands that weren’t there.

And now, they were.

You backpedal until the backs of your knees hit the bed, and he follows you down with a gentleness that betrays the way his hands feel when they touch your skin. You fall together, mouths never parting, tangled limbs pressed into the mattress that hasn’t known this kind of weight in far too long.

Your shirt peels away, slow and careful. As if he’s trying to savor every second, like this will never happen again.

It will—it has to. You may die if you have to go through separation again.

He stares at you like he’s seen heaven and hell and finally made it back to the beginning. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, voice ragged. He’s barely holding himself together, a fierceness in his eyes that makes you think he may eat you alive.

You hope he does.

You reach up, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him back down to you with need. “Then stop looking,” you mutter against his lips. “Start remembering.”

Clothes come off in stuttered gasps—half laughed, half moaned—as if each layer is a wall you’re tearing down together. Skin meets skin, the kind of touch that makes you feel tethered again. Anchored to something.

Someone.

Sylus’ mouth traces a path along your collarbone, down the hollow of your throat, over the curve of your ribs. He bites, he sucks, leaving behind a pattern of bruises and blooming marks—claiming you in color. Like jewelry only he could give you, like tattoos etched in heat that say, without words, mine. You arch into him, a whimper escaping you, and he groans in response—low and guttural.

He sinks between your thighs like a man starved returning to his favorite meal, settling into the place he’s always called home. A low, satisfied sigh escapes him—as if the world’s weight has finally lifted now that he’s right where he belongs. His hands grip your hips like an anchor, grounding himself in your heat, in you.

He trails open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, nipping at the tender flesh as a warning when you push towards his face.

When he finally buries himself in the place you’ve ached for most, it’s not gentle—it’s ravenous. He devours you like he’s been starving, like every second apart built up into this fevered need to taste and claim. His tongue moves with purpose—etching your name in cursive, apologies, confessing I love you in strokes and swirls only your body can understand.

You’re flushed, burning from the inside out, your skin damp and glowing like firelight. It’s heaven, you’re sure of it—though the way Sylus tears into you with sinful devotion, he might just be a demon sent to drag pleasure out of you until you forget your own name.

But don’t worry, he’ll spell it back out for you. Again, and again, and again.

Your moans pour from your lips, unrestrained and embarrassingly loud, the room echoing with every gasp and whimper. But you’re desperate, and past caring. It’s been too long. You missed this—missed him—the way Sylus touches you like he was made to, the way he knows your body better than you ever could. Missed the way he always, always finds his way back to you.

You haven’t felt this good in ages.

It doesn’t take long—your body coils tight, then shatters, release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your vision whites out, ears ringing with the force of it. You try to push him away, trembling hands lost in his hair, but he just smirks against your skin like the devil he is.

“One more?” he murmurs, low and wicked. It’s shaped like a question, but you both know it isn’t. It’s a promise. A command. A sentence you’re more than willing to serve.

His arms tighten around your thighs as he drags you back to him, wearing your legs like a crown, worshipping you like a man possessed. His mouth doesn’t stop—it never stops—and you break apart again, undone and helpless beneath the weight of his hunger.

You cry out his name, babbling through the overstimulation, letting the walls shake with the sound of it. Let the neighbors hear. Let the world know. You’re his—you’ve always been. And now, with his mouth rewriting every nerve in your body, you know you’ll never be anything else.

When he finally pulls back, your body is trembling, skin electric. It’s like the universe was reborn beneath your skin—like some celestial detonation bloomed inside you and scattered your bones into stardust. Every nerve feels like it’s glowing, every inch of you humming with aftershocks, like you’ve been rewritten molecule by molecule in his name.

You’re not sure if you're floating or falling, only that Sylus is your anchor in a sky full of stars he put there.

He moves back up your body slowly, this time trailing kisses along your skin like he’s putting you back together with his mouth. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you gently—like you’re something fragile and precious.

In his eyes, you are.

There’s nothing rushed now. The hunger’s still there, sure—it burns under the surface like wildfire—but it’s laced with something softer, sadder. Like you’re making up for lost time. For all the nights you didn’t have this. All the apologies neither of you knew how to give until now.

Your chest is still rising and falling, breath uneven from the waves that just crashed over you, when he finally presses against you—trembling with restraint. His hand finds your chin, tilting your face toward his. He searches your eyes, desperately looking for anything that says no, anything that tells him to stop. There’s fear in his gaze, quiet and vulnerable—terrified this might be too good to be real.

You don’t speak. You don’t need to.

Instead, you nod, certain, and push your hips toward his like an answer he’s been begging for. Gently, you press a kiss to his forehead.

And when he finally sinks into you—not just physically but emotionally—it’s not about sex. It’s about return.

Reunion.

The sacred act of becoming known again, flesh and heart and harmony folding back into one another.

You cling to him like you might fall apart otherwise. He holds you like he’s scared you already have.

Your head tips back with a moan, mouth parted as pleasure ripples through you. He presses a kiss just beneath your ear tenderly, like he’s trying to keep you from floating too far away. “Stay with me, sweetie.”

As if you could be anywhere else.

His movements are slow—painfully slow—the kind of rhythm that feels like he’s savoring every second, every inch of you. He’s chasing something deeper than pleasure—he’s trying to feel all of you, to touch the parts of you he lost when you walked away. But even then, it’s not enough. God, it’s never enough.

You meet him halfway, hips rising to meet his, your body pleading before your voice even does.

“Sylus, please,” you whimper, voice cracking.

One of his hands slides down, gripping your hip harder, pulling you to him. “Tell me what you need,” he rasps, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it, sweetie. I’ll give you everything.”

And you know he would. You could ask for a kiss, a kingdom, his last breath—he’d give it without hesitation. He’d peel the stars from the sky just to light your way home. He’d carve out his heart, wrap it in gold leaf, and place it on a priceless platter if it meant seeing you smile.

Sylus made you greedy—gave you a gold thumb. He spoiled you without hesitation, fed your hunger. And he reveled in it. Got off on the way you used him, adored how you took and took, because giving to you was the only thing that ever felt right.

Your fingers thread through his hair like you’re spinning silk, tugging at the silver strands. You press open mouthed kisses along his jaw, his cheek—anything you can reach while writhing beneath the weight of him. “Quit going so slow,” you whisper, breath hitching with every drag of his hips, “you’re gonna kill me.”

You knew exactly what you were signing up for the moment he chuckled against your lips—low, dark, dangerous. He shifted you easily, legs hooked tight around his waist. Then, with a teasing snap of his hips, he drove forward, and the sharp gasp that tore from your throat was instant, involuntary.

You barely had time to say his name before his arms locked around your body—thrusting into you with a punishing rhythm, fast and merciless. It felt like he was trying to brand you from the inside out, like he was trying to replace every cell in your body with the shape of him.

If this was how you died, gasping his name, your body split open with pleasure and your heart cracked wide, then so be it. There was no holier death than this—than being completely, utterly taken by the man you loved.

His hands gripped you hard enough to bruise, fingers digging in like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting go. And you clawed your nails down his back until you were sure you’d drawn blood—your bodies leaving marks like they were writing poems on each other’s skin.

It wouldn’t be the first time you two had broken a bed—and at this rate, it wouldn’t be the last. Not that he cared. He’d buy you a hundred more without blinking. Hell, he’d buy you a house just to ruin every room in it. He’ll put a baby in you right now to turn that house into a home, just to make sure you never even think about leaving him again.

Sylus groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him alive. And you? You could only hold on, begging for more through breathless moans, because you knew—no one would ever fuck you like he did.

With every thrust, he drove you deeper into the mattress, your fingers twisting in his hair. You could feel the tears streaking your cheeks, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming rush of it all—of him, of pleasure. It was too much and not enough all at once. You’d never felt so full. So wanted. So his.

Your mascara was probably a mess, your lips swollen from kissing and your heart aching from the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

“Sylus,” you gasped, barely able to breathe through it. “Oh, fuck—”

You were close, clinging to him like your body knew this was it. That after all the nights apart, all the words left unsaid, this was where you were meant to be.

His pace faltered for just a moment, a soft hiss through his teeth as you tightened around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and shaky. You felt him everywhere—his hands, his heart, his love.

You shattered around him, sobbing as your climax overtook you, nearly screaming. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was months of longing, of everything you’d buried now clawing its way to the surface.

All you could think about was him.

His name, carved into your mind like scripture.

His eyes, the way they always burned through you, even when he tried to hide it.

That damned smirk—infuriating and addictive.

The scent of his cologne clinging to your sheets, haunting you even after he left.

His old jacket, the one you swore you hated but wore every chance you got.

The booth in the back corner of the bar where he first kissed you like he meant it.

Everything about him hit you at once—your body, your mind, your heart. Like coming home after wandering lost for far too long.

He followed suit, pulling you so close you half expected to disappear into him entirely. Like your skin was made for his and your bones had always bent to make room for him; as if you were his lifeline—and if that were true, he’d never sign a DNR. He’d beg the universe to keep you beating.

He clung to you like salvation, chanting your name between breathless gasps like a mantra. You were his altar, his ritual, his divine obsession.

His hips finally stilled, buried so deep inside you it felt like you’d been stitched together. His breath was shaky, chest rising and falling against yours, sweat slick skin pressing close as your hearts raced in unison.

And then he kissed you—the kind of kiss meant to seal a vow. It was quiet, sweet, full of all the things he didn’t know how to say.

I love you. I’m sorry. I’m yours.

So you say it—for the first time in thirteen months and twenty eight days.

“I love you.”

It slips out as a whisper, your voice rough, frayed at the edges. But there’s no hesitation in it. No fear. It’s the most certain thing you’ve ever said in your life.

Sylus freezes, eyes locked on yours, like those three words shattered and rebuilt him in real time. And then he exhales, relieved.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing along your jaw. “Say it again,” he murmurs, almost afraid it was a fluke. A dream he’d blink and lose.

You smile, “I love you.” And this time it’s louder. Stronger.

“I love you too.”

He says it like a vow, a promise, then begins to pepper kisses across your face—each one a quiet apology for every day he went without touching you. Each one a reminder: I’m here. I’m back. I never stopped loving you.

You start to drift, the weight of the night settling into your bones, your body warm and sore and sated. Sleep tugs at you gently. But then Sylus nips playfully at your cheek, and his voice, low and teasing, curls against your ear. “Not yet, sweetie. Let me get you cleaned up.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “No, I’ll shower in the morning.”

But you don’t stop him when he pulls away, don’t open your eyes as he disappears briefly and returns with a warm cloth, gentle as ever. He moves with care, cleaning both of you in the quiet hush of the room.

When he’s done, you reach out, fingers circling his wrist like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you don’t. “Don’t go,” you murmur, barely above a breath. “Stay here.”

Sylus leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, that soft smile tugging at his lips—the one he only ever wore for you. “Where else would I go,” he whispers, “if not here with you?”

He climbs back into bed and pulls you into his arms like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. His fingers slide into your hair, cradling the back of your head, guiding you to rest against his chest. You breathe him in, his scent, his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heart under your ear—home, in every way that matters.

Sleep comes easy like that, safe in his arms, as if nothing could ever take him away again.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, and your stomach dropped. For a second, it felt like none of it had happened. Like you'd imagined it all in some sleep deprived dream.

You thought you were going to have to call a therapist for psychosis.

But then you noticed the dent in the pillow beside you. The sheets were still messy, warm where he’d been. And then you heard it—the faint sound of something clinking in the kitchen.

He hadn’t left.

You lay back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, heart slowly steadying. He was still here. After everything, he was still here.

It was strange how easy it felt, slipping back into something that used to be second nature. The routine. The comfort. The quiet knowing that someone else was there. It didn’t feel forced or awkward.

It just was.

And maybe that said something. Maybe that was enough proof that this wasn’t a mistake. That loving each other had never been the problem. That the space between then and now hadn’t broken anything that couldn’t be fixed.

After one night, it was like everything was finding its place again.

You crawl out of bed and grab the shirt he left on the floor—It smells like him, that familiar mix of expensive cologne and soap that always lingered on your skin long after he was gone.

The apartment smells like coffee and something frying. You can already guess what it is. He never cooked with precision—just intention. Eggs were his go to, even if they were usually either barely set or borderline burnt. But he tried. He always did.

You pad quietly down the hallway and stop in the kitchen doorway. He doesn’t notice you right away—he’s too focused, standing at the stove with his back to you. Shirtless, muscles shifting with every little movement. He’s wearing those pajama pants. His pajama pants. The ones you stole and swore you’d thrown out during some emotional cleanse, only to find them months later shoved behind your laundry basket. You never brought yourself to toss them again.

They hang low on his hips now, like they never left.

You lean against the doorframe, just watching him for a second. Listening to the sound of him cook, the birds chirping with the morning sun outside, and the peaceful quiet that this life brought you.

It was home again.

“Like what you see?” Sylus says without turning around. You’re not sure how long he’s known you were standing there, but then again, he always knew. Could feel you without looking—like you were some extension of him, stitched into the same thread.

You walk up behind him and slip your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to the warm skin between his shoulder blades. “Maybe.”

He chuckles low in his chest, then reaches forward to turn off the stove. In one fluid motion, he spins in your hold, facing you. That smug grin is already there, the one you used to pretend annoyed you. His eyes sweep over you, stopping at the oversized shirt you’re swimming in.

You glance over at the table. The same old mugs. A bowl of fruit. Two plates—simple, a little uneven, but made with care.

“You didn’t have a lot to work with, kitten,” he adds, brushing a piece of hair from your face, “Someone hasn’t been buying groceries.”

You kiss his jaw, lazy and slow, still waking up. “Doesn’t matter. You showed up. That’s enough.”

“Then sit.”

You snort, let him guide you to the table, and as you sit, you watch him pour your coffee the way you like it—still remembering. Still yours.

You two sit in silence—soft, easy. The fruit’s a little mushy, the eggs slightly too done, but not enough to matter. Sylus sits across from you, half smiling, half watching.

‘This is it’, you think. ‘This is the life.’

You think, for a moment, that maybe you should ask him how he’s been. Catch up like normal people. Trade stories from the months apart—what he’s done, what he’s seen, what you missed between the snapshots friends posted with him barely in the frame.

But only one question makes it past the swirl in your chest.

“Sylus,” you say, folding your arms and leaning over the table, eyes narrowing. He mirrors you, brow lifting in challenge. “Yes?”

“How the hell did you get into my apartment?”

He laughs—loud and unbothered. He juts his chin toward the counter where, sure enough, a single key lies.

“I still have that,” he says, far too smug.

You gasp, lurching forward to swat his shoulder. “Why didn’t you give that back?”

“You never asked for it, sweetie.” He shrugs, leaning in like he’s telling a secret. “Besides… I figured it might come in handy one day.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Mm,” he hums, biting into a slice of melon. “And yet, here I am. Still your favorite bad decision.”

You scoff, sipping your coffee to cover your laugh. And maybe he is. Maybe he always has been.

But as you sit there with him, sunlight pouring in and the scent of overcooked eggs lingering in the air, it will never feel like a mistake at all.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus #lnds #lnds smut #lnds fluff #lnds angst #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #sylus fluff #sylus x mc #love and deep space

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hearts4mica · 3 months ago

Text

I would take the suffering from you! Prologue.

Yan Batfam + Tim Drake x Siren! Reader

Next chapter with yan! Batfam

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"Sirens tend to transform into persons that their preys love to lure them into the water."

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Rewriten! Masterlist!

It was late at night and everyone from Tim’s crew was asleep in they assignated rooms, well except Tim of course

He was sitting down outside of his ship watching the waves, it was a calm night. It was too calm. The moonlight was reflecting on the water making a beautiful scene.

Tim had been dreaming with you since he stepped onto the boat. You were gorgeous, every night you appeared in his dreams, Oh how he wished you were real.

Suddenly he saw a head come up from the ocean

He looked like- "[name]?"

The girl from his dreams? He's been dreaming about you for a whole year now and now you were there. A few meters infront of him? How!

You had been watching Tim ever since he sailed onto the ocean. The perfect prey.

After manipulating his dreams for a year you it was time to make the last act.

“Hello Tim” you say as you sit down on a rock not too far from his boat.

He didn’t answer hmm well should you tell a joke to lighten the mood?

“Did the shark eat your toungue?” Wow great joke [name] you really should be a comedian! Mm why didn’t he laugh? Dumb humans with their weird humor.

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Tim could be anything. But he was not stupid. He knew you were a siren, he didn’t know when he was dreaming since you always appeared human and he was not thinking straight when dreaming. But now you were here imfront of him swimmimg on the sea looking perfect it didn’t take a genius to know you were a siren.

Exactly what he came to the sea looking for.

Bruce had given him the mission to capture a Siren and bring it back to the batcave so he could do research on them (Wow Bruce crazy scientist au?)

Anyways now it has been a year and Tim refused to go back to Gotham without his mission being succesful.

And it seems his wait had been worth it.

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“Tiiiiimmm-“ you splash water to his face trying to get him to react. Did he fall asleep with his eyes open?

“Sorry [name]- Yes?” Tim had to convince the creature to come onto the ship by any means!

“How about you jump to the water and i can show you around the Atlantis!?” Just the way i did in your dream!” Say yes say yes.-

“Jump-?” Of course Tim wouldn’t jump! Jumping was basically a death sentence!

“I’d happily jump! But… i’d be suffering trying to stay afloat [name] i’m a really bad swimmer i mean it!”

Yeah right a bad swimmer does this idiot think im stupid? Why would he come onto the ocean without knowing how to swim?!

“I could teach you how to swim! We have the whole ocean for ourselves! I would take the suffering from you!” I shouldn’t be begging for him to jump! He should be begging me to let him live!

“I would love for you to teach me [name] but i’m to shy to jump from here!”

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Next step ask the siren to come onto the boat.

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“You know what? I’ll jump if you answer one or two questions!” Oh? This is getting interesting!

“Ask me anything!” Maybe i should answer honestly since he is gonna die either way.

“Where do you live?”

…

“In Atlanits silly! I told you before in your dreams! Now jump-“ “No. Where.”

“I told you in Atlantis-!” “Tell me the exact location.”

Oh so he’s got an attitude now? Ha rude.

“I’ll show you the way myself! Just jump and i’ll take you there!”

“How about you come onto the boat and draw me the location of the map [name]? And then i’ll jump with you to the water.

He was really stubborn. Well i guess there’s no other way.

“Fine i’ll do itttt! Just cause i really wanna teach you how to swim!” You say as you make the water raise you up so you stand up at the edge of the boat.

‘Stupid Siren.’

“Draw the location in the map.” He said as he shoved the map onto your face

Why was he so rude? You’re a transformed into a human like him…- wait a minute.

Can humans breathe underwater?

“Holy shit.” You say under your breathe as realization hits you like a truck.

‘Humans can’t breathe underwater! And you just told him you lived in Atlantis!-

“Well Timmy it’s been great meeting you in person but i gotta go. You knoww haha-“ suddenly one of your legs gets tied up as you take a step back.

You fell into his trap.

Now you were upside down hanging by a stupid rope

Well now you were totally powerless.

He takes a step forward towards you.

“Well you have made the mistake of stepping into this boat. My territory little mermaid it’s time to take you home where you belong” He says with a evil smirk as he grabs his phone and dials a number.

“Hello Bruce? Mission completed. I’ll see you soon.”

_________________________________________________

This is the start of your personal hell.

_________________________________________________

If you liked this please comment and ideas of how to introduce the Batfam or anything you like!

Masterlist!

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rarityroo · 1 year ago

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Obviously Jax is bad at feelings; even worse with apologizing. He and his girl have their first big fight and she just gives him the cold shoulder to the point he’s frustrated. He’d definitely say something “Come on, doll face, I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me, woman?!”

Fumbling apologies

(Jax x Fem!reader)

Hi! Im sorry this took a bit, I sadly have strep and feel like I ate a cheese grater lmao. This isn’t proof read so please forgive me if this is wonky, I honestly really like writing for Jax so I’m very happy I got this request! If you like this please lmk, Enjoy!

You didn't mind Jax's crude nature, more often than not you found it funny. Sure his jokes and such were mean but he had a certain air about him you found so enjoyable. Until this moment at least...

"I just don't get what the big deal is!" Jax says in a dismissive tone. Your eyes flashed with frustration, was he serious? "It's not just about saying sorry, Jax. It's about meaning it! You can't just toss around apologies like they're nothing. I need to feel like you actually understand why I'm upset." Jax crosses his arms, a stubborn glint in his eyes. “Come on, doll face, I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me, woman?!” Jax said exasperated, he just wanted this to be over.

You shook your head, unbelieving. "I want you to acknowledge why I'm upset! I want you to understand how your actions hurt me." You were so sick of his insensitive jokes, or dismissive attitude whenever you try to talk about how you feel. He was so mean sometimes, but you still loved him.

Jax's frustration finally boils over, and he snaps, "Well, maybe if you weren't so damn sensitive, we wouldn't be in this mess!" "

Your eyes widen, hurt flashing across your face before it hardens into resolve. "Y'know what, fine. Jax, if that's how you feel, maybe we need some time apart." You started to regret those words, you didn't want him to go, you didn't want space but you were so exhausted from the constant back and forth. This has gone too far.

For a moment, silence hangs heavily between them, tension crackling in the air. Then, Jax's expression softens, regret seeping into his features. He knows he messed up. He knows he needs to make things right.

"I... I didn't mean that," he says quietly, his voice tinged with remorse. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't-." Jax was struggling to find the words, he doesn't like apologizing, he thinks it's a waste of his time and that it's below him although he knows he's wrong for what he said. You look at him, maybe he finally says a decent apology instead of brushing it off, maybe it was different this time.

You meet his gaze, your expression softening slightly. "Do you really mean that?"

Jax nods earnestly. "Yeah, I do." He said his eyes earnest, he looked embarrassed. "I know I'm not great at this stuff, but I want to try. I care about you alright? I don't want you to be all sad because of some dumb thing I said, I care about you or whatever." He finalized with a huff. You internally softly smile at that.

You take a deep breath, calming yourself, "I care about you too, Jax. But we need to communicate better. I don't want this to happen again."

He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I promise I'll work on it. Starting with this." And then, with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, Jax leans in and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, apologetic kiss. In that moment, the tension melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through you both. You may not be perfect, but you were willing to try, together.

#tadc jax #jax x reader #tadc x fem reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus #jax x reader tadc #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus jax #jax the rabbit #tadc

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fandomkingdom18 · 10 months ago

Text

seven curtis brothers au but it's their family dynamics hcs

for @wannabe-goth-babe who commented and i just couldn't resist making another list of hcs

since two bit is all goofy, friendly as a kid growing up to present day, he's always been close with his siblings but ever since their parents passed, he had to slow some of his bad habits to help provide for his brothers as the only other newly legal adult in his family

so while he helps (or at least tries to) darry manage all the stuff he's responsible for, he also spends his time keeping morale up while darry is busy

but steve and soda would usually already be doing something cause they're nerds (probably a whole ahhh championship for arm wrestling)

and johnny would usually be with pony since dally is often out

but when he wasn't he would sometimes be in the middle of losing to johnny in some card game

so pony would just sit somewhere and read or be at the piano, playing around with some melodies and two-bit couldnt tell if pony was lonely or just in the zone

but two still would walk over and look at his sheet music and ask him what he was playing because he would usually recognize it because a lot of the sheet music was put together by their mother who would always play it to them

and while everyone else is minding their own business, two would sit down at the piano next to pony

and pony would teach him the things their mother taught him, since two had never wanted to learn, something he he regretted after losing their parents. passing up on chances to spend time together

and two didn't wanna make that mistake again

he learned how to identify the keys and play a few chords

and two played the lower harmonies with those chords while pony played the higher melody

(guys im picturing the scene from the princess switch if you know what i mean except platonic)

(therefore lets pretend its christmas time or smth for a moment and they're playing carol of the bells :D)

and their brothers would hear and turn around and look on in amazement because respectfully, its hard to get two-bit to sit down for extended periods of time. especially at the piano.

and after they finished the song, two would ruffle at pony's hair, pull him close into a side hug and thank him for being so patient with him

and pony feels all happy since no one really had time for something like that because no one else likes music as much except darry and he always has something to do

but two-bit was always good at making him feel seen

like two bit has common sense but he's still techncially a teen so sometimes he and pony would sneak out and do silly dumb things and go to the playground and joke around before sneaking back home as if nothing happened

mostly cause two knows that pony hasn't had as many opportunities to be a real teen since he was freshly a teenager when their parents passed so two just wants to make it feel real for him

and while two is technically still enrolled in school, he doesn't have to go. so when ponyboy or someone else is sick or smth he stays home to take care of them and cheer them up so darry doesn't have to miss work

and like brother, like brother, two and pony are both insanely stubborn when they're sick and stubborn in trying to help each other so it's chaos but they make it work in the end

unlike steve and pony when they were home alone together after catching the same cold

if they weren't so fatigued and sick they would've really went at each others throats

instead it's steve laying on the couch and pony across darry's arm chair trying to figure out how the other is responsible for the cold going through their family

(they've always had a rocky relationship)

if you were to ask steve why he "hates" ponyboy

he would say it's because the kid is a brat who has it better than the rest of them since he doesn't need to get a job and get in the stuff that mostly dally gets into

but if you were to ask him on a deeper level

he would say he's jealous. because for a while he and soda were closer than pages in a book and of course after johnny was born, they were all fussing over him, but with pony it was even more since he was the littlest of the littles

and pony always had to be included and as time went on, steve not only lost attention from his brothers, but also his parents

(and steve isn't the only one who feels like this)

(cough cough two bit cough cough dally)

dally practically got over it when he got older and two bit just ignored it for so long that he just doesn't think about it.

(it was real hard for two because he and darry had been so close but he knows that everyone else is more important)

if you were to ask ponyboy why he thinks steve hates him

he would say its because steves a dumbass who focuses all his willpower into making his life too difficult.

but if you were to ask him on a deeper level

he would say it's because he thinks hes annoying and holding everyone down

that he's too sentimental and stupid for wanting something beyond a greaser in tulsa

pony genuinely thinks that darry, steve, and dally only put up with him since johnny, soda, and two-bit do

they're working on it

or at least they're going to

youngest bro of seven on the east side of tulsa vibes

like they do NOT let him do anything out of the ordinary or potentially risky

enter ponyboy's rebellious era

(this will be dived deeper into in the fic)

darry is the same except for being more cautious and protective over his brothers

soda's the same mostly with extra love warming his heart and everyone else around him

johnny still is more of a listener than a talker but he's more confident and like soda and darry when it comes to being a curtis bro

dally still has that tough exterior from his time participating in rough gangs but it's the mildest it's been in tulsa

(the curtises have lived in other places, i'll write ab more of this in a post soon)

keith daniel curtis is still a doofus

pony is mostly the same with the trials and tribulations with darry but multiplied by 6

steve is pretty chill. no daddy issues. except for the fact he's dead. just ponyboy issues. everyone else is alright tho.

back when it was only darry, two, and dally, two was playing major middle child because hes always been an outgoing kid, but dally used to be really shy so darry would always cheer him up and two would just sit there like o_o

so basically darry would always make sure dally was alright

but growing up, it became the opposite

dally usually checks in on him and stuff to make sure stuff is going well, offers to take stuff off of him like taking up more shifts at bucks so darry doesnt have to do an overwhelming amount of work

even tho darry was older by a few years, he was always more optimistic and dally hated that their parents just had to die and all of the pieces had to be picked up by darry. he was too young to have all of that on him.

so dally takes matters into his own hands sometimes just so darry gets some rest.

just to return the favor of darry always taking care of them.

#fandomkingdom18 #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #darry curtis #johnny cade #sodapop curtis #the outsiders musical #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders #steve randle #the outsiders au #the outsiders headcanons #two bit mathews #the outsiders movie #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders novel

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sierrale8ne · 6 months ago

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Hey moot💋 I don’t usually do live reactions but i loved 4d4n soo here we are. It’s a little long so bare w me😭

"You can't answer your phone now?"

"Pa-"

"My girl just treatin' me like I'm chopped damn liver."

She's so me cause wym you cant answer the phone for me🤨

'Her face is flushed, hair slightly sweating from her first All-Star practice.'

Yooooo???? You still coming????? Yoooooo??? No because I would've jumped through the phone.

'She might've never said it out loud, but with the way she always looks at me when I wear it, I know that black is Rae's favorite color on me. As is mine on her.'

She's so real for that cause it's mine too.

'The skirt is long and low waisted, giving me a view of the fine lines of her abdomen, a thin waist chain and a navel piercing, both gold that make my mouth water.'

Y'know what.... Paige move I want Maraye😛

"I'm makin' you mine, the second dinner is over."

Ayyyy perfect

'It's then when I know that this is where I'm supposed to be, with her holding my hand.'

Wait this is so cute omg fml

"He tryna fuck you."

Shitttt I would too.

"Showing all 32 is crazy."

lmfaoo she is not a real person.

'And I was so close to getting her how I wanted her if it hadn't been for her fucking stubbornness.'

That's crazyyyy cause I'm easily pursuaded and not stubborn at all.

"You were a thespian?" Like for real?"

The water cuts off, and her heels click against the bathroom tile before muffling against the carpet. Raye's hips sway as she approaches me,

"You were a lesbian jock. And you still are, so shut up."

Why did she clock her tea so bad😭

"On everything, I ain't stopping when I start."

She's freakyyyyy

'I'm sure if it wasn't for us getting inerrupted she would've turned me out in the studio that night."

🫣

"I gotchu, baby. I do, jus' lay back."

IM SAT

"Gon' take it just for me?"

Yo Maraye get up I'm next.

"Ion think you want me to answer that, ma."

Yeah don't, cause I will slap you.

'I've made it my mission to make each experience worthwhile with everything I did to her tonight.'

Oh so she wasn't joking when she said she wouldn't stop?

"Strap you so good when we get back."

Here she go y'all😒 (Maraye is lucky asf)

"Is that not what you just did for the last four?"

FOUR HOURS?? Ohhh I can't hang w y'all, y'all realll freaky

'Home. A place where love is nurtured and bloomed, a place that I now only ever associate with Paige.'

They're so cute omg stop.

'Because there was nothing like being with Paige.

And I got to call her mine.

All mine.'

Sleeping on the highway. I'm happy they got their happy ending tho❤

YAY LIVE REACTS 🫂 i’m so glad you loved it hun, i loved writing it!

the post practice glow… raye is stronger than all of us i fear.

i think this chapter is full of paige being annoyingly unreal and maraye just looking at her with googoo eyes bc that’s her girl downnn.

paige bueckers, my favorite dumb lesbian jock 😍

i feel like i wrote paige so freaky in this one like, raye’s first time with a girl and she got her world ROCKEDDDD

yk i had to give y’all a happy ending, i’m just so happy it worked out how i wanted it to. thank you for your react babe, it’s so appreciated 🥹

#moot toot #paige bueckers x oc #40 days and 40 nights

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aphroditarian · 1 year ago

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Hate words for your moon sign <3

Aries moon- i seem to attract them, which is a problem because i hate these fuckers. Immature, selfish and irresponsible, they are oblivious to the fact that they need to work on themselves ( like literally all of us ) because they perceive themselves to have some sort of moral advantage for “always being right” ( my ass ). They also love weed and probably alcohol too ( cause god forbid they actually feel their emotions ). Theyre just big babies.

Taurus moon- unmovable, unshakable, will die on the stupidest of hills out of sheer stubbornness. They know everything since they were 3 and so theres no reason for them to get out of bed. Movies? Seen them all and if they havent, they already know the one you wana take them to is no good. Music? Pfft. Do you even know who bach is?

Gemini- yall have commitment issues the size of pluto and youre not doing anything about it. You are a menace. Basically draco malfoy but if he wasnt even rich and hot so he had literally no redeeming quality.

Cancer- even i, a particularly sensitive and emotional individual, cant handle your crying ass. Mommy issues WE GET IT!! Friends with this placement will make everyone in the group baby them and partners will suck your tits FLAT. Not to mention how EMO they truly are. Like 6 pete wentzs on the emo scale.

Leo- thank god none of yall seem to like me cause i swear to god you need 15 times more attention than the average human. Your redeeming quality is that youre funny. But if you dont stop acting like rachel berry im gonna laugh at you and not with you. Did i mention theater kid?

Virgo- youre so wrecked emotionally that i actually feel bad for you instead of wanna make fun of you. Like jojo siwas career. Its like you have the meanest most insidious person in your head judging every single thing you or anyone says or does or feels or thinks. Jesus christ, we all need therapy but you neeed therapy.

Libra- i dont trust a single word that comes out of yalls mouths. Youre people pleasing, co dependents, and eeeeverything must lead to you being good and nice. Youre no fun. And when you are its for other people to think youre fun. Also youre deeply delusional and limerant ( look it up ), and i can just sense you falling in love with everyone and everything for no reason. Ew.

Scorpio- listen here you piece of shit, i know you want everyone to be scared of you but im no fool. Literally no one finds you mysterious and intimidating, your just no fun. And yes, we can tell you cry to evanescence every night. Redeeming quality is that youre hot, but looks dont last and youre gonna be one cranky old peson.

Sagittarius- every time you tell i joke i can see tears behind your eyes. Youre not fooling anyone with your pseudo esoteric shit. Also chill tf out!! Please!! Youre either angry or excited.

Capricorn- like virgo, no amount of hate words coming from me will do a capricorn moon justice, because they are already hating on themselves so hard. They are under the delusion that its everyone around them that is the problem but deep inside they know, its themselves they feel bad about. And no you dont actually enjoy being productive, its just that your self worth is entirely dependent on being useful.

Aquarius- you are literally insane. The most delusional people ive met. None of your reactions make sense. You are constantly running away from being actually vulnerable and open, coming up with either brilliant or extremely dumb excuses, and your love life is suffering the consequences of your avoidant ass. At least your social life is good, but hey, at what cost??

Pisces- thank fucking god youre a rare species. Kind of like virgo, i almost dont wanna make fun of you because i feel bad. But in your situation i also have no desire to help your overly dramatic ass. Youre not just anxious, youre something on a whole new level and you probably require huge amounts of food/alcohol/tobbacco or something to keep it all bottled up. Good fucking luck to anyone who falls in love with you!! Ps if you wanna be a poet be a poet, dont be like umm UwU can i show you my poetry UwU 👉👈

If youre mad about this post, complain to my mother.

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hpdfag · 11 months ago

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said in dms i could drop a thousand word ramble about hinata at the drop of a hat so im going to make good on that one off joke. below the cut is a Very long ramble

he's just.. so perfect in all of his flaws. i think the reason he's so wonderful is because he isn't some perfect human, good at everything, he's wonderful in his humanity. he's kind, and he's skilled, and he has so much passion. he can also be a dick at times, and stubborn as hell. but that's part of what makes him who he is. if all of those kinks were ironed out, i don't think he'd be the man i fell in love with, that i love to this day. he's a human being, no matter what was done to him, and he's better for it.

he was kind to me, and did so much to help my rehabilitation after the simulation the first time around. he went slow, he was careful so i wouldn't fall. that superhuman body hopes peak gave him meant that he was recovered before anyone else, and he dedicated himself to making sure we all not only made it out, but were able to thrive. he was patient with me, even though i was dazed, and confused, and very scared. even before we got together, i could tell he loved me the way i did him. he wanted to see me happy, and no one had ever made me feel the way he did. still no one has since, unless they try to pretend to be him. i don't think taking advantage of my delusions should count though, so i wont.

and he's gorgeous too. it's not the most important part of him, and i don't want to make it seem like i only love him for his looks, but he's so handsome. his hair is so soft, and looking at his smile is like being blinded by the sun. his name really fits him. you could dissapear into his eyes, both the green and the red. i want to see all of him, i want him to let me in to the deepest parts of himself. i love his dumb little button up shirts, i love the way he carries himself, confident and self concious at the same time. he's a well of contradictions. i wouldn't have him any other way.

he's warm, too. i keep finding myself returning to his name, he really is the sun, blinding anyone who gets too close. i remember laying beside him, even when i was cold, or scared, he's warm, in a way that kamukura wasnt. it helps ground me. this is a person. this is someone who loves me. and i can feel his body heat radiating through me. i wish i could lay by his side forever. even in the unbearable summer heat, id push through just to be by his side, hold his hand, sleep next to him.

he would smile at me sometimes, brush a strand of hair out of my face. i was always in my own little world but he could cut through that in an instant to bring me back down to earth. he's so in tune with everyone on the island, i have no idea how he keeps it sll straight. it's clear that he cares so deeply for each and every one of us, and even though i'd never dare to truly take him away from everyone, some days i wish i could keep him all to myself. i wish i could lock us in our cabin forever, i wish i could see that smile, hear him whisper "i love you, komaeda" all over again. i wish no one else could see him smile like that. of course, i wouldn't want him to be unhappy. i know how much all of his friends mean to him. but sometimes, i wish i was more selfish before i came here. i wish i spent more time staring back instead of hating myself for taking him away from the others.

whenever i think about him loving me back, about how much he cared for me, i feel like crying. how could i possibly deserve someone like him? he's the hope of everyone, but i get to have him, to posess him, and let him have every part of me in exchange. he's mine, he's mine, and it still hasn't sunk in. it almost feels presumptuous to assume he'd love me with the same intensity, but i think part of getting better is realizing that it's okay to be selfish like that sometimes. hinata would insist upon it.

more than anything, i want to see him happy. i want to do everything in my power to make the man i love see how much he means to not only me, but the world, and everyone around him. i want him to turn to me when he's scared and alone, the way i have to him. i want to be someone he can be proud of. i want to love him the way he needs to be loved, and prove to him that he's more than the sum of his parts, more than what's happened to him, more than hope's peak and the expectations they put on him. he's more than any of that, not only just to me. he's hope itself. not because of the project, but in spite of it. he's broken free. he's all that matters. i love him because he is love.

the morning sunlight filters through the window and i think of him. the breeze passes through the plants below the windowsil and i think of him. i eat eggs and toast for breakfast and i think of him. i draw him, i write about him, he is in every little facet of the universe. i look in the mirror, and even though the face i wear is unfamiliar and strange, i see him reflected back at me, i see his hope, his dream of my survival. he is divine in the kind of way only an ordinary man can be. the kind of divine that would bestow mercy upon me. the kind of divine that i want to serve for the rest of my life, not out of necessity or fear, but pure unadulterated worship and devotion.

he is in every line of code that makes up this reality, even though he didn't have a direct hand in creating it, he's left his mark on the world, and it shows. i don't want to waste his gift, i don't want to be ungrateful. even though every day on my own hurts more than the last, i can make it through it, and on the other side he'll be waiting for me. i know he will be. and this will all be worth it. because one day, i'll be able to see him, and tell him i love him, and i won't be scared anymore.

#... servant's song ♪#🍊 ☆ beloved .ᐟ #tldr i want him so bad it makes me look stupid

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slimgems · 7 years ago

Photo

here u go :’)

#steven universe #jasper #peridot #amethyst #jaspidot #mine art #dsfdfsdf this took waaaay too long for me to draw lmao #but im stubborn and HAD to make a dumb joke #i might start posting ask requests like this from now on #anyways its lateee #i gotta sleep now zzzzzzz

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dreemurr-skelememer · 2 years ago

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late ask BUT director's cut for a home for two?

fuck, anon. you don't know what can of worms you just opened.

i was going to keep this concise to one point but upon rereading it for the first time in a while i just....have too much to say about a home for two.

it's my all time favorite fic ive ever written, if it's not obvious.

firstly, i want to bring up these snippets (STARTING OFF STRONG....SORRY)

these were the moments where error finally started opening up to paperjam. and they mean a lot to me.

his personality is finally starting to shine through; his stubbornness and hotheaded-ness. it's the moments where it was clear that this kid wasn't as closed off as paperjam thought and had a personality masked by trauma and anxiety.

after so much struggle, seeing his personality finally peak through sends pj (and hopefully the reader) into fondness.

i love the little details. I KNOW I WROTE IT. but i love the little details.

these snippets were the moments where error started expressing his safety and trust towards pj

he's really made a lot of progress over the course of the few days in the fic, and seeing him finally feel the safety and love he deserves makes me so....AGH. AAGRGRGHG.

the entire fic is so tense and mildly stressful that finally writing down error's new found stability makes me so mushy and gushy!! god

i didn't emphasize it a lot but paperjam really didn't talk to error like most people would towards a four-year-old.

and that's not a bad thing! in fact, the opposite!

this is partly because paperjam is unprepared and does not know how to talk to children, but talking to kids like real, actual people and not dumbing everything down for them is actually really beneficial to their learning and growth process! (iirc, that is)

this scene and the dialogue earlier in it also really showed paperjam's frustrations. he's not perfect in any way, and he almost took it out then and there on error through a stern talking.

neither of it was their fault, of course. just a lot of misplaced love and stress from everything.

i like making my characters feel like people. and pj is such.....a person. i love him dearly.

i could gush about toriel forever in any instance about the way she acts like such a mom, not just this fic. but mostly this fic.

i love toriel. if i could grab every toriel scene in the fic, i would. but one example is enough, and this one shows the best of her.

her fondness, her motherly attitude, her jokes, and her pride towards pj. god i love toriel in this fic i LOVE TORIEL DREEMURR!!!!!!!!!!

i just think this is important. :p

"holy shit they said the thing"

i think title drops are funny lol

ANYWAY YEAH. i had a lot to say about it LOL. i love a home for two and i reread my fics a lot, and this one is the one i reread the most. im so so so proud of it.

#long post #my baaaaad for rambling so mucchhhhh #resurfacing past #Anonymous

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lollytea · 3 years ago

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Hunter foolishly being worried how willow n dariuses relationship will play out ( sińce they destroyed his ship n he scared her n teammates)

but gosh HE WAS SO WRONG they become besties n obviously both treasure him dearly but sometimes he cannot wrap his head around over their banter/inside jokes. He s glad tho

Also i d love to have Hunter go for advice what prezent to give to willow (he somewhat knows just needs to put his ideas in order) and it ends up with darius picking out the sweater/jacket/dress n Hunter sewing patches/adding on personal details

Hdhdhd adore them being pentagram buddies imagine it starting as missclick on willows part n sending him a dumb meme but they keep chatting from time to time

//you will be the end of me lolly im supposed to be responsible not looking thru your huntlow tag/lh also happy lolly tagged her posts everyone 🎉/lhj

THEYRE SO FUNNY

Like Darius and Willow's relationship is definitely tumultuous and antagonistic and this initially had Hunter very nervous. He had to attempt to be the mediator when the two are about to go at it like feral cats. He's in the middle like "Okay, okay, okay, okay. How about we all just relax?" Only to eventually realize that he does NOT have the social skills to curb whatever the fuck is happening here. If his girlfriend wants to scalp his weekend father, she is far too stubborn to be talked out of it and vice versa. So he has accepted that this is just how its gonna be.

But its so strange because while they bicker constantly, they also seem to have this overly familiar relationship that Hunter doesn't quite understand. He honestly feels pretty locked out of the loop whenever hes with the two but he isn't so much upset by that as he is INSANELY CONFUSED. Like??? What the fuck is going on??? Usually when the three of them are together, Hunter is occupying all his brain power to figure out what the FUCK these two are talking about.

Willow: Boscha keeps vagueing about me on her fensta and it's honestly kinda funny.

Darius: Uck. Well don't just tell me about it. Show me the screenshots. I need to see how petty she's acting.

Hunter: Whats "vagueing"? What's "fensta"? What's a "screenshot"? Why can't you people just use real words?!

Willow: Oh honey, I'm sorry. Well "vagueing" means--

Darius: Google it, gramps.

Willow: Be nice to him.

Hunter: Yeah, be nice to me.

Darius: I am! I just helpfully suggested a place to find answers!

And its shit like. Hunter will show up at Willow's doorstep for a date and just as he's about to knock on the door, Darius will swing it open and stride past him.

Hunter: Darius?!

Darius: Hunter.

Hunter: Wh-you-I-....why were you just in Willow's house?

Darius: Because she's hopeless, that's why. The little purple haired girl is busy today and she needed someone to set her on the right path. Wanted to impress you. Isn't that so very cute? Hair, make-up, outfit, etectera. Of course she didn't care about my plans for the day. Just demanded I get my butt over here and be her little fairy godmother. Real bossy, that girl.

Hunter: Wh--

Darius: Anyway, I did a fantastic job obviously. You're welcome. *Winks and struts away before Hunter can get another word in*

And yes. Yes absolutely. Willow's sixteenth birthday rolls around and Hunter panics big time. Because not only is this her first birthday that he gets to celebrate with her, it's her first birthday he spends as her boyfriend. He knows he wants to patch up a whole dress but it's simply the matter of picking out a dress. And god, if there's one thing Hunter doesn't know shit about, it's fashion.

I feel like, while Hunter is still new to this whole tailoring hobby, Darius is a pro and can probably make some excellent quality clothing. So he makes Willow a dress himself. Hunter helps to the best of his ability.

Hunter: Sorry I think we're just gonna have to buy one. I don't....know her exact measurements.

Darius: That's fine. I do.

Hunter: What?

Darius: I've resized plenty of clothes for her before. That reminds me, I need to teach you to do that. She's only gonna get buffer after all.

Darius makes Hunter promise to not tell Willow who made the dress. ("We can't have her incorrectly assuming I like her.") But Hunter is a SHIT liar so he's just very awkwardly explaining how he just happened to stumble upon it at the market and thought "huh. That would look nice on Willow. Haha....ha."

And of course Willow knows the patches are Hunter's handiwork. But when it comes to the dress itself....

"Wow. It fits me perfectly. It flatters me perfectly. It's my exact style. The colour matches my skin tone. It's...like it was made for me. What a coincidence, huh?"

And Hunter, sweating absolute bullets is like "HAHAH. Yeah. Coincidences are crazy, right?"

Willow decides to let Darius get away with this one. For now. She'll put it in the pocket of her beautifully crafted dress (he put POCKETS in it, holy shit!!!) and use it as leverage once the opportunity arises.

#delighted you enjoyed the new hunlow tag #THANK YOU for rbing so many of them and tagging them #i would not have found at least half of them if it werent for your blog #you really saw my terrible system of not tagging shit and took matters into your own hands #youre a hero

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ochomachuu · 3 years ago

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helloooooo~ osomatsu for the ask game 👀👀👀

send me a character: osomatsu!

this ended up being a bit long bc i had to dump screenshots everywhere

favorite thing about them:

hes such a funny, goofy little piece of shit. hes so unabashed and unapologetic in who he is, and he’s just straight up adorable! he also feels like such a warm and comforting character to me? he can be pretty emotionally intelligent and is able to pick up on and sympathize with others' feelings.

he’s also quite good at reassuring and calming his brothers down! like despite being a silly little manchild, he can be reliable and really feels like a comforting presence.

also this thing he does where he’s able to challenge people and call them out on their bluff when they’re being dishonest and stubborn with their own feelings.

oso is also such an interesting character to psychoanalyze. like the fact that in s3e18 he was terrified and tried to run away when asked out by a really cute girl, the fact that he only thought of someone liking him as a funny joke, the idea that if no one expects anything out of him then he’ll never disappoint anyone, which might be why he started the date off with the most unfiltered, shitty version of himself, the fact that he reflected quietly all night and decided to actually genuinely try for once only to be rejected........ just in that skit alone there’s so much to think about he’s just neat idk

least favorite thing about them:

also when he forgot about totty at the mixer that one time that made me really sad

favorite line:

brOTP:

choukei! like despite shitting on each other a lot (esp from kara’s end), these two really feel like a DUO to me. they seem to have mutual disrespect for each other but also a weird kind of mutual respect, and sometimes they do attempt to take their supposed roles as the eldest a bit seriously. their little "top two brothers" exchange at the end of the choromatsu incident makes me smile like an idiot.

kara voices his thoughts much more readily than he does with other brothers, and that makes their interactions unique and really entertaining to watch. snarky, bitchy, and or exasperated kara is always a fun time. and when there isnt any sort of conflict between them, they seem pretty comfortable just hanging out together, and they do so regularly!

these two feel really close to each other in a "hey this guy sucks lol" kind of way.

the dynamic duo

OTP: totonyaa and he’s there as well

random headcanon:

i love that he was a ballerina in osokun, so i love the idea that he’s still really flexible

unpopular opinion:

does this count as an unpopular opinion? i dont really see him as being that stupid, he just doesnt give any shits and so will just do or say whatever immediately comes to mind most of the time. he’s capable of being logical and introspective, and often uses reason to reassure people.

like. hes not that dumb, he just doesnt want to think. he just wants to act like a funny little guy. his head is empty but hes not stupid. idk if im making any sense but yeah

bonus moments of him thinking his little thoughts:

song i associate with them:

some lines in this song remind me of him

favorite picture of them:

THIS!!! he's usually a goofy little guy, but he looks so serious and genuine here he’s cute i donno

#ask game #osomatsu #matsu observations #long post #sorry this took a long time to answer!!! i might end up taking a while with these #i have requests for totty and choro so ill be working on those for the next little bit #for otp i love osototo as well i just thought it would be funny if i only put that #im also just keeping to one brotp per ask for now so i can cover all of them evenly #welcome to me looking too deep into bean boys

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bloodonthecoral · 2 years ago

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hi girly!!

1. love love your stuff

2. hope you’re doing well fr

3. could i pls request a bob ship?

appearance wise i’m 5’5 with an average build. ngl i’m a little heavy on the top iykwim so my back always hurts fr. LOL anyways i have blue/green eyes and brown hair that has like goldfish highlights in the sun. i’m half asian half white so do with that what you will. i’m pretty pale honestly oh and my hair is long, like almost to my butt long. id like to think i have a nice smile lol and i love making a pouty face, it’s just so fun.

personality wise i’m an ENFP-T so i’m naturally extroverted and outgoing. i make friends wherever i go and i’m a great people person. i can hold conversations with really anyone and people always tell me i’m very mature and good with adults and older people. i’m also a 2w3 so i tend to be a bit of a people pleaser. i naturally am drawn to leadership positions and taking charge but when i do i often over extend myself trying to accommodate everyone and their every need. i am a generally funny person. sometimes i make a joke that goes too far but i love making others laugh. i also am always complimenting people. i can be insecure myself but i love making others feel good.

i can get into a mood very easily tho. i do my best to hide it but i am very busy so i am not always the greatest in the morning and if i spend too much time around certain people i get cranky. i don’t snap nearly as much as i used too but my friends can tell when something’s off. i hate getting in those moods where im sulking but it happens sometimes. usually after some joking around or spending time with other people i snap out of it. what can i say im stubborn.

i love being involved in school. student council, SPIRIT WEEK, choir, clubs— all that jazz. i’m a pretty good student yk like i have a good rep at school and am pretty well known. i am also a theater kid. i know im sorry. i have been singing for a really long time and it’s like my thing.

i love you sing, dance, act, read, write, listen to music, shop, and spend time with people. my love language is for sure quality time but i do love words of affirmation. i often get called an “old soul” because i am very sentimental with old school values and i am drawn to anything 40s-90s. i am a die hard 80s music and movie fan and my friends think it’s funny im so obsessed with the classics (if you couldnt tell i am a history and english nerd, my close friend calls me her “favorite history buff”) but yeah i love spending time with others. me and my dad bond over watching movies together and listening to music and you bet im the life of the party wherever i go. always the first to do or initiate something, jumping onto the dance floor first and being the last too leave — i don’t like missing out so i take all the chances i can.

anyways i hope that’s enough info and i’m sorry if that’s too much or i rambled. honestly id be grateful if you even read up to this point. if you get a chance to write a ship i would really appreciate it but if not i totally understand!! no pressure whatsoever. thank you bestie boo :)💛💛

I've not felt quite that happy in the past week for numerous reasons. I think with time I'll be fine. Dumb memories, yknow? I know what you mean I'm heavy on top as well lmao. I like the way you speak. You seem really exciting. Thanks for the request

here's your ship!! (🚢)

꒰ I ship you with . . . Floyd Talbert ৎ୭ ꒱

A mutual friend decided to hold a party that was themed to a 1950s sock hop. Dancing to 1950s music was an ideal situation for you especially with the fashion you'd dawn. It seems absolutely perfect, right?

In the corner of the dance hall, he kept glancing at your. Sure, he could probably dance with anyone he'd want to but he had formed a soft spot for you. Even if he didn't know you. Something about your energy was so lovely.

He fell from the start, something about you was... Well, he couldn't put his finger on it but he knew you two were meant to have a relationship... Even if he has some red flags (he comes off a bit player-ish but it's ok)

Your first date is shortly after your first meeting; The way you two met was romantic and by the end of the night had been obviously flirting. So, he asked for your number and when it'd be best to call you.

You two ended up planning the date at the local mall; There's an arcade and theatre nearby, plus mall food. So you two can window shop, go play games, or maybe watch a movie. Maybe all of the above. It seems quite wholesome.

Floyd kissed you goodnight, it wasn't on the lips. That'd be too much at a far too quick rate. He kissed your forehead and for a moment you saw him blush. It's been quite clear he isn't shy, but hey, he's got a soft spot for you. And he can't hide blush.

Your second first kiss— aka your real first kiss...

You initiated it. You gave his lips a quick peck at the end of one of your dates. He was awestruck by the feelings that fluttered around his stomach. You were everything he wanted to fall in love with. You're the measure of his dreams.

The song that represents you two is ; I Saw Her Standing There by The Beatles (pretty cute for you two <3)

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #floyd talbert #band of brother ships

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shoutaaizawas · 5 years ago

Text

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → ❝wait for you❞ part one

summary: bakugou is your best friend, you both dream to become great heroes. when bakugou ends up in a coma most move on but you can’t leave your best friend behind. word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: romance, angst (with a happy ending eventually), a/n: im alive! sort of. finally finished one of my many wips in between watching greys anatomy. shoutout to the show for some inspiration for this. those background patient plot lines hurt sometimes.

Bakugou Katsuki was your best friend. That might be hard for a lot of people to believe considering how hostile he could be sometimes. Most would describe him as feisty and unfriendly but there was always something that drew you to him. From the first day at UA, you knew he was going to be your best friend even if he didn’t want to at first.

It didn’t take long for him to start liking you back even if he refused to admit it. It was impossible for him to deny that it was nice to be cared about and it was harder to deny that he cared about you. It was something he never expected, to care about someone so much that when you missed a meal he would be shoving food in front of you, or if you were staying up too late he would force you to go to bed early. Even the smallest things about you concerned him.

The two of you made the perfect pair, you helped each other train and study. When he went through his worse times you were there for him, through the nightmares, through the panic attacks, you helped him when he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Bakugou wasn’t your only friend but your relationship with him meant everything to you. Your friendship with him ran deep. He was your person. He was the first person you thought about every day, he was the first person you told good news to, the first person you went to when you were upset.

Your friendship was everything to you and you always imagined it meant a lot to him as well.

Throughout the school years, it only got deeper. It was finally your last year of high school and you and Bakugou were both on track to become amazing heroes. Both of you had worked so hard to be at the top of your class and it was almost time to go into the real hero world. You had even both secured spots at the top agency you had been eyeing for a long time.

You wondered if you would be partners at your agency? That would be too perfect. Both of you had bright futures ahead of you but one day took that away.

It was a normal day, you and Bakugou were working your intern patrol shift. It was sunny but not too hot and things were reasonably calm. There were a few crimes to keep things interesting but nothing too dangerous. It was a good day.

The two of you were eating lunch, you had gotten your favorite sushi for lunch despite the fact that Bakugou wanted to get ramen. But fair was fair and you had won your game of rock, paper, scissors.

That’s when the chaos broke out. A villain was attacking and you both sprung into action without a second thought. It was going well as it usually did, you worked together flawlessly. A perfect team. That was until Bakugou took a hit neither of you saw coming.

The sight of him tumbling across the pavement made you sick. You quickly subdued the villain before running to Bakugou’s side. He was laying on the ground face down. You turned him over, his face was covered in blood. Your heart sunk at the sight of him, eyes half open and face bruised.

Sirens alerted them to the arrival of the ambulances.

“Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t move, help is here.” You said, hand brushing against his face.

“I-” He said, his voice hushed. “Sunshine I-”

Sunshine. The nickname started out condescending, an insult almost but somewhere along the line it became endearing. A pet name almost.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself, please.” You said, grabbing his hand squeezing it tight. “You’re going to be okay.”

Bakugou was put on a stretcher and rushed to an ambulance, you rode with them trying to stay calm as they helped him. You held back asking questions not wanting to interrupt.

Bakugou’s red eyes stayed focused on you as you held his hand while trying to stay out of the way.

“It’s going to be okay, you have to be okay. You’re my best friend.” You said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Katsuki I-”

Bakugou’s eyes slipped closed and it was hard not to tear up in fear. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you hesitated and now he couldn't hear you. Your heart raced in your chest. He would be fine, he always was. He was a fighter and he always pulled through.

Waiting was the worst thing anyone could sit through is the conclusion you came to. Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room staring at the patterned tile you were suffering. The thought of Bakugou in an operating room opened up hurt you to your core. The urge to sob was strong but you refused to. Bakugou would be okay and he would tease you endlessly if he found out that you cried over him.

Bakugou would be fine. You knew he would. He had to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou showed up, looking more scared than you had ever seen them before. You were familiar with his parents, they had invited you over many times for dinner and they always got along with you.

“What did they say?” Bakugou’s mother asked as she approached you, she grabbed your arms frantically.

“He’s in surgery, they aren’t saying much.” You told her. She let out a sigh sitting down next to you.

Time went by slowly as the three of you waited impatiently. Finally, the doctor appeared.

“Bakugou family?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s us.” Ms. Bakugou stood up along with you and her husband.

“The surgery went well, we were able to fix the trauma and bleeding in his brain. He’s patched up but there was swelling during the surgery.” The doctor said solemnly, his hands held together.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Bakugou questioned.

“The likelihood of him waking up is very low.” He said.

It felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Mrs. Bakugou shouted. “If you fixed everything, what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor began to explain it but everything around you went fuzzy. You couldn’t hear anything, you felt sick. Before you could do anything else you ran outside of the hospital making it to a tree before throwing up.

Bakugou wouldn’t wake up. He was alive but he wasn’t going to wake up. The next year of your life was so clear in your mind, graduating, working beside Bakugou, climbing the ranks, becoming amazing heroes. Together. It was all gone, how were you supposed to go on without him? You couldn't picture your life without him.

You stood in front of his hospital room door still. If you stepped through that door you knew that it was over. The image of Bakugou standing strong next to you ready to face the world would be gone. The reality of what happened would set in and you could never go back.

It was easy to picture him, picture those moments with him. The first time you met him, you were both so young. He was so feisty and unwilling to befriend anyone. The memory of him yelling at everyone around you.

You could remember the day you had gotten through to him, had a heart to heart. His red eyes looked so soft for the first time and you knew that you would do anything to keep his trust in you so he would always feel safe enough to open up to you.

The memory of him in his dorm, scared and breathing quick after a nightmare. You had crawled into bed with him and held him. He protested at first but quickly realized you were more stubborn than him this time. Then he realized how nice it felt to be held by someone who cared about you, who wanted you to feel better. How safe he felt in your arms. The softness of his blond locks was unforgettable.

This morning was so clear, Bakugou in his hero costume laughing at a dumb joke you made. You would never see him stand tall again. You took a deep breath.

Softly you opened the door revealing the hospital bed. The sound of beeps filled the room. Walking up to the bed you took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou laid in the bed hooked up to wires. The side of his hair was shaved, where the surgery was. He was still, the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. He looked so peaceful.

You sat in the chair beside the bed, head in your hands, a broken sob coming out of you.

“You have to wake up.” You said looking up at him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you can pull through this, I can’t do this alone. What kind of hero would I be without you?”

There was no reply to your cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen." You cried. "I'm sorry we didn't get what you wanted for lunch. If I could go back, if I could do everything different I would. I wish it was me."

Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body.

"You're my best friend, you're my everything." You cried.

Everything felt empty. Time passed, life moved on. Your friends, your fellow students tried to console you while they grappled with the fact that Bakugou wasn’t around anymore. Your teachers looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that these things came with hero work but you were far too young to be dealing with it.

Graduating, something you had looked forward to for so long tasted like ash in your mouth. Standing there with your classmates taking pictures, everything was numb. All you could see was Bakugou laying in that hospital bed unmoving.

Life moved on but you felt like you stood still. You started working at the agency and you worked hard doing your best. The only thing you could do was be the best hero you could be to prevent people from getting hurt like Bakugou did. Even as you progressed and life moved on you felt like time was frozen.

After every shift you visited him, you would bring your dinner with you and eat in his room. You would tell him about your day. On good days you could convince yourself he could hear you.

Time moved on and less people visited. Your fellow students got busy with their hero careers. His parents visited on the weekends, Aizawa would visit once a month. Sometimes you ran into him. The two of you would sit there in silence.

“Do you visit him a lot?” Aizawa asked.

“Everyday.” You answered. “Almost every single day.”

“Why?” He asked, his gaze not moving from his former student.

“He’s my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of him sitting here alone.” You answered, a tear dripping down your cheek. “If he was awake I know we would see each other every day, it feels wrong to not see him. Even if he is asleep, even if he doesn’t know I’m here. I can't go without him, even if he's just laying here.”

“I understand.” He said.

Aizawa didn’t explain but you knew deep down he understood how you felt.

It took time, you had a lot of time to think when you weren't talking out loud to Bakugou's unconscious body. It took time but you finally realized something.

You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Not just the way someone loves their friend, no something deeper than that. Why else would someone spend every day with their unconscious friend? Even as years passed.

Looking back it all made sense, how validating it felt to tell Bakugou about the highs and lows of your life. How much you focused on the small touches between you and him. How the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him tore you apart.

How had it taken you so long to realize?

Everything about him made you feel alive. His shining qualities, his flaws, his quirks, everything about him made you happy. You loved him so deeply, how had you never known?

You loved Bakugou Katsuki and it was too late to do anything about it.

Years passed. Your career progressed, you climbed the hero charts and you became the hero you and Bakugou always aimed to be. Even if you had made it to the thing you wanted more than anything else in life it felt empty.

All you wanted was your best friend there with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt. Not just his unconscious body. You felt like a ghost, all of your friends lived their lives but you couldn’t enjoy it. You didn’t go out with them, you spent all your time with Bakugou at his bedside.

Every day you hoped, prayed he would wake up.

Time was an odd thing, getting old felt wrong. You looked older and so did Bakugou even if he laid there unmoving all this time. His hair was longer than it had been but you kept up with it. The nurses let you trim his hair, shave his facial hair when you had the time. It made you feel a little less helpless.

It had been a long day, a bad day. People died, people, you should have saved. You should have been fast enough, you should have been a better hero.

Sitting next to Bakugou you told him about your day.

“I moved, I reached to grab them but I wasn’t fast enough.” You said. “They died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

The tears streamed down your face. You reached forward grabbing his hand.

“You're here in this bed because I wasn’t fast enough, I was a bad partner I should have saved you. I should have taken the hit for you. I wish it was me in this bed, I wish I was dead.” You sobbed, breaths heavy it felt like you were suffocating. You were drowning, you had been since that day.

The sounds of your sobs were loud, your hand limply grasping at his. Your breathing stopped at the movement under your hand.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids.

part two

taglist: @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkghatesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write @todominica @why-so-red @kvichisaki @curiouslilbeast @izukukozume @susceptible-but-siriusexual @swankiifiied

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki

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stargaze-issei · 5 years ago

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Hi I was wondering if you could do some headcanons for Todoroki, Bakugo, Shoji and Tokoyami where maybe their s/o is injured after protecting some classmates for example how would they react after hearing about it and act towards the ones they were protecting and how they are really soft to their s/o. Does that make sense? Ooh and maybe how their class is shocked at them being soft towards their s/o. Sorry the request is so long

hi! this made me so soft, and i love every character so 🥺 thanks for requesting, bb! this is gonna be long lmao, so it's under the cut.

(also, im sorry for todoroki's one being so angsty and this taking so long, i had a couple of... rough days)

— 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬/𝐨 + 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐢.

bakugou katsuki.

-> bakugou loves to see you work hard and push your own limits.

-> often, he just let's you train however you think it's best.

-> so when you say you're going to have some extra training with kirishima, he wishes you luck.

-> "don't be late for dinner, dumbass, or i'll kick shitty hair's ass" ofc he won't kick you, you're his precious s/o.

-> when you arrived to the gym kirishima had requested, there he was, accompanied by deku.

-> "i hope you don't mind midoriya tagging along", you didn't, actually.

-> everything went as usual, a few punches here and there, some laughs.

-> but, somehow, while both you and deku were testing red riot's resistance, izuku got way too into it and didn't realize only kirishima's arms were hardened.

-> you saw a kick flying to the red hair's torso, and your body moved by itself.

-> the impact had you thrown to the other side of the gym, barely staying conscious.

-> to you, everything was so fast.

-> to bakugou it was the other way around.

-> a sweaty kirishima appeared, looking desperately for him, without making one coherent sentence.

-> "y/n... infirmary... bad"

-> katsuki had NEVER blast out so fast. like, NEVER.

-> when he got to recover girl's office, you were sleeping. she explained to him that there wasn't anything major, but you were extremely tired, therefore, sleeping. recommended a few days of rest, and then you'd be good as new.

-> of course he heard you were never recovering almost dying.

-> deku was a crying mess, poor him was so scared, kirishima was trying to calm him down but it was impossible.

-> when bakugou knew HE had hurt YOU?

-> "what the fuck were you even doing there, huh? a damn quirk stealer like you shouldn't be fucking allowed near people who earned they own place here. what? were you jealous of them? stop fucking crying and ow–"

-> "katsuki. stop." nobody saw you woke up, you'd had to thank your boyfriend for that.

-> you asked everyone to leave and explained bakugou it wasn't midoriya's fault, so he shouldn't bully him.

-> he said yes to you but had now intention of stopping lmao.

-> they took you to your dorm room, where bakugou had already set a bed under yours so he could watch over you at nights.

-> nobody dared to stop him.

-> until you were allowed to go back to classes, he was to your demand. everyone was so surprised to see bakugou katsuki doing what he was asked willingly.

-> AND THE LOOKS HE GAVE TO DEKU.

-> poor broccoli boy wasn't allowed to even look at you without gaining a whole menu of insults.

-> he apologized writing a note he gave to todoroki who gave it to you.

-> katsuki is really worried, like, reaaaally worried, so he makes you healthy meals, takes it to your room so you don't move too much and then washes the dishes.

-> "geez maybe i have to ask midoriya to kick me more often" HE WOULD LOOK YOU DEAD IN THE EYE AND CALL YOU THE BIGGEST IDIOT WITH NO HINT OF LOVE 😭

-> at school, he doesn't leave your side. if you complain on anything, even if it has NOTHING to do with your injury, won't stop until he fixes it.

-> kaminari, mina and sero tease him so. fucking. bad.

-> kirishima is kinda scared bc he thought you were dead for a second so prefers to let bakugou take good care of you.

-> whenever you feel a little pain at the place of the hit, he will warm his hands and put them on your torso.

-> the warm feeling helps to ease the pain, and he has an excuse to touch you. win win.

-> he's not angry at kirishima at all, even, if he has to leave you, kirishima is in charge of taking care of you.

-> but your favorite time is when you're alone with him, after school.

-> he'll get so soft towards you, stroking your hair, kissing your head.

-> the day after the accident, it was mainly because he was genuinely scared of something happening to you.

-> "you're so fucking dumb, shitty hair can take hits better than you do, what on earth was i supposed to do if you were actually hurt? don't do that, ever again, got it?"

-> you got a huge bruise from the impact though, and he kisses it before going to sleep to make sure it doesn't hurt 🥺

that was completely out of character but idcccc

todoroki shoto.

-> he's... intense, to say the least.

-> but it's just with you, like, he doesn't show it to everybody.

-> both of you are doing your internship, so you haven't spoke as much as usual.

-> he misses you, but knows you're fulfilling your dreams, so he'll wait.

-> you went to uwabami agency, along with yaoyorozu and kendou.

-> even though mostly it was just being her assistant, this one time you were called to a collapsed zone just outside of tokyo.

-> supposedly, the area was already secure when you arrived, you, momo and kendo used your quirks to help rescue trapped people wherever uwabami told you.

-> momo was trying to help a civilian, and didn't notice the big rock falling from above.

-> you launched yourself towards them, trying to push them out of the way.

-> the rock hit you instead.

-> you didn't remember a thing after that.

-> todoroki was at his father's agency when he got the call.

-> "please, get to the hospital quickly, i– y/n's in really bad shape, please, i'm so sorry"

-> to hear yaoyorozu crying, saying you were in the hospital?? he couldn't move at first. like, frozen.

-> but after understanding what was going on, he got to the hospital even before the ambulance.

-> he heard a commotion in the e.r., and run there.

-> you were on a gurney, covered in dirt and blood, carried by a bunch of paramedics screaming things to each others.

-> todoroki couldn't hear a thing, all he could focus on, was on your unconscious body.

-> he felt a hand placing on his shoulder, yaoyorozu was still crying and trying to explain him what had happened.

-> but he wanted to touch you, seeing you like that, like you were dead right in front of his eyes, he needed to feel your warm.

-> three nurses were needed to hold him from getting near you.

-> he was losing his little composure, and his left arm began to feel hotter and hotter.

-> you were taken to the operation room, leaving him on the edge of combusting in tears of impotence.

-> even though momo tried again and again to explain him, he shut down everything except you.

-> all he could think about was you, lying in a operation table, fighting for your life.

-> the rest of the u.a. arrived with time, the procedure didn't end.

-> everyone was more than shocked to see todoroki so feral, a single word or touch from someone could develop in a big fire, from the guy.

-> when the doctor finally came, shoto almost tackled him.

-> "they're going to be fine, there were a couple complications during the procedure, but everything turned out okay. we'll keep them in here for two weeks, in observation, but we're confident that they'll be leaving in less than a month".

-> for the first time in hours, todoroki actually breath.

-> the doctors allowed him into your room, and he decided to stay there until you could leave.

-> NOBODY was allowed there, besides your family and doctors.

-> he really felt like anyone else would hurt you.

-> when you woke up, he was sleeping besides you.

-> "oh, you're awake, baby, you're awake" as soon as he saw you, he took you into his arms.

-> after the doctors gave you permission to leave, he was right by to your side the whole time.

-> at the dorms, todoroki woke up before you to help you get ready, and went to sleep after so he made sure you were okay.

-> izuku understood your boyfriend worried, but highkey worried about his health.

-> for a while, todoroki ignored yaoyorozu existence, even if he knew it wasn't actually her fault, he hated that you put yourself in danger for someone else.

-> with time, you recovered and todoroki started to go back to his usual self.

-> but everyone remembered how hard can be to todoroki when his loved ones are in danger.

-> im sorry this doesn't have so much fluff

shoji mezou.

-> with shoji, we're going to skip right after you get injured.

-> because i'm sure he wouldn't be upset at whoever you were protecting.

-> he's a very logical dude, and understand you were doing your job as a hero.

-> and he loves you for it.

-> when they told him you got wounded, he tried real hard to hide how worried he was.

-> you are pretty strong, and lowkey stubborn so you accept getting treated instead of saying "it was nothing"?

-> it has to be at least a little serious.

-> but he's shoji, he's cool headed, he doesn't let his feelings cloud his judgement.

-> turns out, that rule didn't apply to you.

-> don't get me wrong, he didn't get violent like bakugou or todoroki.

-> he did freaked, asked recovery girl about your condition every five minutes.

-> "can i see them now? oh, right, sorry... are they alright? when will they be able to leave? can i go in now?"

-> no one had ever seen him so openly worried.

-> it's really observant, if you go back to school right after the incident, will notice immediately if something is wrong.

-> like you're in pain, or even uncomfortable because of your injury.

-> ask for permission to take you back to the dorms, you need to get rest and won't even argue about it.

-> if you have to stay in bed for a couple of days, be sure he will spend his day there.

-> tries everything to take your mind off your boring room.

-> tells you stories, lame jokes, keeps you updated on the class gossip, even if he usually doesn't like that kind of stuff.

-> "huh, yeah, midoriya and uraraka? right, they like each other, hm, i saw them having lunch together"

-> he might be a human radar but it's pretty much clueless when it comes to this things.

-> "they always have lunch together, mezou!" be nice to him, he's trying his best ):

-> i think everyone expects shoji to be soft when it comes to you, but not that soft.

-> once they saw him carrying you in his arms down the stairs, because "your wound hurt".

-> tokoyami was certainly shocked to see his friend like that.

-> is always hugging you with one or two of his arms.

-> will try to cook healthy meals, but fails.

-> he wants you to have enough nutrients and heal properly, okay?

-> buys you your favorite snacks and candies before going to the dorms.

-> shoji doesn't want his beloved s/o to get depressed for being locked up too long, and gives his best to make you feel happy.

-> is insanely shy about it though, and will try to hide his excellent-boyfriend side.

-> lots!! of!! cuddles!!

-> if you're okay with it, will take advantage of the situation and cuddle you like crazy.

-> i mean, you can't get out of bed and he just happens to have six arms willing to keep you warm and cozy.

-> is your number one caretaker and will continue being it until you feel better bc he's best boi 🥰

tokoyami fumikage.

-> just as todoroki, he's intense af.

-> if you're apart, he would text you everyday, you know, just checking.

-> even when he went away to work with hawks, still managed to find the time to talk to you.

-> benefits of being his s/o.

-> and it was at that time you got into an accident.

-> he instantly got worried when you didn't reply to his text after an hour, two hours, three hours.

-> you usually let him know if you're busy, but you just said you were going on a walk with kaminari.

-> hawks saw him getting upset, and gave him permission to go see you.

-> just when he was going out, midoriya called him.

-> "hi, tokoyami, i'm sorry i didn't call you before, um, please don't freak out, y/n got... y/n got hit by a car, but she's okay! it was not as bad as it sounds! we're at recovery–"

-> it wasn't tokoyami who got out of control, it was dark shadow.

-> poor thing got so scared something happening to you, he took tokoyami and flew towards you.

-> when he arrived, kaminari, midoriya, and a couple of your friends were outside u.a.'s infirmary.

-> turns out, while walking with kaminari, messing around, he got distracted and cross the street without looking.

-> the car managed to stop a little but you pushed him out the way and got hit anyways.

-> since there wasn't anything too damaged, recovery girl had already cured you when tokoyami arrived.

-> "are you alright, my love?" he wasn't that good with words, but you felt his worry through his eyes.

-> he couldn't avoid touching your face and arms while you were in the gurney.

-> i think he's those kind of guy who moves frenetically his hands when he's nervous.

-> you had to grab both his hands bc he was getting you nervous lol.

-> "they're fine, but i recommend having a few days off, in case your leg hurts more than normal, let me know, okay?" and with that, dark shadow took you to your room.

-> as worried as he was, he tried to keep his temper.

-> "are you sure you don't need anything? dark shadow can help you down stairs, i can do it too, something to eat, maybe? or s–"

-> you'd have to tell him ten times you're alright, and repeat it another twenty times.

-> and he would still ask you spontaneously.

-> while you're at the dorms and he's at class, people keep asking him how are you.

-> he says you're okay and he isn't worried, but dark shadow practically cries saying how much he misses you.

-> "fumikage misses them too, all he does is thinking about them"

-> tokoyami blushes hard if he can.

-> takes notes in class and gives you your late homework.

-> also helps you do it but do NOT give you the answers, you're smart enough to do it by yourself.

-> "see? i knew you could do it, my love"

-> leave me alone he only calls you my love.

-> he isn't a fan of cuddles, but seeing you in that condition?

-> is one of the few times he ASKS YOU to cuddle.

-> strokes your hair, gives you head kisses.

-> i strongly believe he sings to make you feel better.

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