#so he has some sentimental value to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ravengards-rogue · 10 months ago

Text

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

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gyubakeries · 3 months ago

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OT13 reaction to: their kid stealing an item from them.

a/n: was struck by random inspo while working on a request i got (i will be posting all requests IM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE) but yeah!!! also credits to @sousydive for suggesting the bonus woozi reaction hahaha 💗 i also think i got a little carried away haha 😭 i hope you guys like it!

contents: seventeen x afab!reader , dad!seventeen , husband!seventeen , crack , fluff , woozi's pink underwear makes a guest appearance , seventeen and reader have kids , some members have a boy and some have a girl, some have both; i just chose at random , just a lot of cutesy vibes

seungcheol:

"babe, where's my rolex?" seungcheol calls out, and you hurriedly rush into the bedroom from the kitchen. "what do you mean where's your rolex? don't tell me you've misplaced it, choi seungcheol!" you hiss, panicked. the rolex was a gift to seungcheol from your parents after you got married, and besides the sentimental value, the price of it alone was enough to make anyone faint.

"i put it right where i put it every day!" seungcheol says defensively. "and i didn't wear it over the weekend either!"

just then, your toddler waddles into the room excitedly, giggling cutely. "mama, look! shiny!"

"baby, not now," you sigh, focused on figuring out where the watch could be.

"daddy! i'm like you now! look!" your child tries again, and seungcheol, always the weakest when it came to his kid, looked down, only to burst into laughter.

you look up at seungcheol, wondering what could be so funny when a rolex is missing. but a quick glance at your child has you rolling on the floor in laughter.

because there your adorable baby was, with a shiny rolex hanging off his wrist and a brighter smile etched on his face.

"do i look like daddy?" your son tilts his head, and you can only sigh in relief as seungcheol pulls your kid into a hug, carefully slipping the watch off his wrist.

"mama thinks you look even more handsome, baby," you tease.

"hey! not fair!" seungcheol pouts.

(your small family spends a morning filled with laughter, until seungcheol has to rush to work because he realizes he's already late to his meeting.)

jeonghan:

"shit! where is he?" jeonghan murmurs under his breath, crouching on the floor to duck under the bed.

"babe? what are you looking for?" you question, walking into your bedroom to find jeonghan crawling on all fours.

"ddoljjongie!" jeonghan sighs, exasperated. "i can't find him anywhere!"

"that's strange," you muse, eyebrows furrowed as you try to recollect where you'd last seen jeonghan's pet rock.

ddoljjongie wasn't just any boring rock, he was jeonghan's 'pet', one he adopted from your first date with him at the beach. the rock was quite precious, always tucked away safely on your dresser, or his study, but right now, it had just disappeared.

"dada! mom! look, i made new friends!" your daughter rushes into the room, practically vibrating with happiness.

temporarily giving up on his search for ddoljjong, jeonghan follows you and your daughter to the backyard.

your daughter leads you both to the couch on the patio, showing off a.... rock collection?

"ddoljjongie!" jeonghan exclaims. before he can get to his rock though, your daughter stops him.

"wait! jjong made new friends! this is momo, that's kkumie, and that's hulk!" your daughter says, the last rock being a pebble covered in green moss.

"don't take jjong away, dada," your daughter pouts. "he's having so much fun here!"

jeonghan gives in quickly, ruffling his baby girl's hair. "alright, ddoljjong can stay here. now come back inside, it's bedtime."

you smile at how cute your family is, and you're also surprised at how easily jeonghan parts with his pet rock.

(the surprise only lasts till when you see your husband sneak out, draw a face on another similar shaped rock, put it in ddoljjong's place, and then tip-toe back into the house after your daughter has fallen asleep.)

joshua:

"shua, you should play us something on your guitar!" seokmin suggests, and everyone cheers. all of joshua's 12 chaotic friends have gathered in your living room, along with their families, to celebrate mingyu and his wife's pregnancy.

joshua, ever the crowd-pleaser, gets up to fetch his guitar. you follow him to your bedroom, passing your son's bedroom on the way. seungkwan's daughter and wonwoo's twins are playing an intense game of charades, while your son is busy doing.... something.

before you can find out what he's doing, joshua's panicked whisper catches your attention.

"babe! where's my guitar pick?" he asks, and you're just as confused. joshua's guitar and all related equipment are always stored neatly in your bedroom. there's no reason for the guitar pick to go missing.

you enter your bedroom, looking in the drawers of your dresser to find the guitar pick, but in vain.

your search is cut short by the sound of loud cheers from the living room, and a soonyoung who looks close to tears appearing at your bedroom door.

"you guys have to see this."

soonyoung was known for his dramatic streak, but seeing the sight everyone was cooing at in your living room made you tear up a little bit too.

joshua seems equally affected, if the arm wrapped around your shoulders and the love-filled gaze directed at you is anything to go by.

there's your little boy, sitting in the center of all his uncles and aunts, clutching his toy guitar and joshua's guitar pick. he's strumming the strings to mimic the playing of the instrument. although the strings don't make a musical sound, your son's voice singing 'sunday morning' by maroon 5 is enough to make you shed some tears.

everyone watches him with a smile on their faces, and you feel your chest swell with pride as your son looks like the splitting image of joshua, his eyes and lips curved into the exact identical smile of your husband.

(later, minghao and seungcheol send you videos of your son's performance from various angles, and jihoon leaves the house with a promise of signing your son under his record label one day. you can only feel grateful and happy seeing joshua play 'sunday morning' on his real guitar as your son sings along with him.)

junhui:

"y/n? could you get my lemon gummies along with the popcorn?" junhui requests. it's a movie date night for the two of you, and your twins (one boy and one girl) are asleep in their bedroom.

"god, you and your love for sour things," you sigh, feigning annoyance. when you first met junhui at a frat party in college, you were weirdly drawn in by the fact that he could eat an entire lemon without, like, dying from how sour it is.

"you love it," he winks playfully, making you laugh as you retreat to the kitchen to make popcorn. once the packet is in the microwave, you open the pantry to find the lemon gummies junhui loves to snack on.

from his last visit to his hometown, he had brought back at least five packets, three of which had been finished over the span of a year.

but where were the remaining two?

"babe? did you finish all the gummies?" you call out, moving around the various snacks and items in your pantry, looking for the gummies.

junhui is quick to come in the kitchen. "i remember there were a couple of packets left..." he mumbles, helping you look for the snack.

as if on cue, a loud scream rings out, followed by giggles. you and your husband share a quick glance before rushing up the stairs to your kids' bedroom.

you're bursting into the room, heart beating rapidly at the thought of your children getting hurt, but the sight that greets you calms you down instantly.

your adorable kids are seated on the floor, your daughter giggling loudly, and your son's face scrunched up in disgust. between them lies the missing packets of lemon gummies.

"baba! look, we ate gummy but he spit it!" your daughter chirps, babbling excitedly, while your son is vigorously wiping at his tongue, trying to get the sour flavor off his tongue.

"our daughter is just like you," you tease junhui, and he can only smile. he joins the kids on the floor, and you pass him a glass of water for your son.

"babies, i told you not to touch the lemon gummies," jun says, gentle yet firm. "they're too sour for you."

"not for me! i like sour!" your daughter pipes up, but your son, after finishing the water, scowls.

"it's too sour, baba," he pouts. "tastes yucky."

"you're just a scaredy-cat," your daughter teases your son, sticking her tongue out at him.

junhui turns back to meet your gaze, giving you a smile so sweet and loving that it makes you melt.

(you, junhui, and your kids spend the rest of the night, cuddled up on your twins' too-small-for-4-people bed, eating caramel popcorn and strawberry candy. your life has never been sweeter.)

soonyoung:

a loud shriek wakes you up abruptly. you were dozing off on the couch on a lazy, sunday afternoon, hoping to catch up on some much needed sleep after staying up with your daughter the entire night to help her finish a project.

but judging from how horrified your husband sounds, you realize that there really isn't much scope to catch a break in a household with two, hyper-active kwons.

"love? what's up?" you ask, walking into your bedroom. you see soonyoung clutching his hair in despair, standing in the middle of your bedroom. what was once a neatly arranged room now looks like a hurricane named 'kwon soonyoung' just rampaged through it.

"tamtam."

"what about tamtam?" you ask.

"he's gone. tamtam is missing." soonyoung whispers frantically, looking like he's about to absolutely lose his shit any moment now.

"he'll be around here somewhere," you try to placate him. "when did you last see him?"

"i know i brought him to the living room with me before we started on the family tree..." soonyoung mumbles, referring to the previous night, when you both stayed up with your daughter.

"let's go look there," you suggest, and soonyoung follows you, biting his lips in worry.

you look on the sofa, under the sofa, behind the sofa, even between the sofa cushions, but your search has been pointless.

until....

"wait, what's floopy doing here?" soonyoung asks, holding up your daughter's bunny plushie. if her father had an attachment to his tiger plushie, your daughter was impossibly glued to her bunny, floopy. it was extremely difficult to get her to do anything without floopy by her side, especially sleeping.

but if floopy was here, how was your daughter asleep upstairs?

soonyoung and you make your way to your daughter's bedroom, opening the door softly so as to not wake her up.

you tiptoe into the room first, smiling at how peaceful your daughter looked while she was sleeping. you peel back the blanket covering her gently, and sure enough, tamtam, soonyoung's beloved plushie, was cuddled up next to her, some of her drool dripping down to tamtam's poor face.

"too bad, soons. looks like she's taken over tamtam now," you whisper, only joking, but the look of pure sadness in soonyoung's eyes makes you laugh out loud, which in turn wakes your daughter up.

"daddy! look, tammie slept here today! we had the bestest sleepover," your daughter grins, ever the happy pill, just like her father.

"and you left floopy all alone in the living room," soonyoung pouts. "she's all upset and said she wouldn't talk to you, because you took tamtam with you."

your daughter's eyes widen immediately, and she's springing out of bed, chucking the tiger plushie in soonyoung's general direction and running over to the living room to reconcile with her precious floopy.

("you're a menace, soonyoung," you sigh. you had just managed to calm your daughter down after she began wailing because floopy wouldn't talk to her. soonyoung talking to her in a high-pitched voice, pretending to be the bunny plushie had managed to console your daughter.

"at least i provided a solution!" soonyoung says defensively, and you can only kiss his cheek because of how endearing he is.)

wonwoo:

"babe! breakfast is ready!" you call out, dishing out the last of the pancakes on a plate. you then open the fridge to grab the maple syrup, when you hear a loud crash in your bedroom.

"shit, wonwoo, are you okay?" you gasp, entering the bedroom to see wonwoo sitting on the floor, rubbing at his forehead, which had a red patch forming on it.

"can't see," he groans. "my glasses aren't here."

you rush to help him up and guide him to sit on the bed. you press your cold hands to his forehead, hoping to relieve some of the sting from the collision he had with the cupboard.

"that's strange," you mutter. "you always leave them on the bedside table. did you leave it in your study last night?"

"nope," he shakes his head. "i'm not that forgetful."

"i'll go check to be sure," you offer. "sit here, don't move. if you crash into my dresser and break the vase, you're a dead man, jeon wonwoo."

"okay okay," wonwoo nods. "please go check, i feel like my vision has been taken away from me."

you laugh at how helpless and silly your husband looks, sitting on the bed with a pout, his hair messy, and his forehead red.

"you're such an old, blind man," you tease.

"don't make me want to chase you around the house, y/n," wonwoo threatens playfully.

"you can't even see me, baby," you retort, and before wonwoo can reply, you're going off to the study to find his glasses.

just as you enter the study, you hear a loud crash coming from your son's room. you quickly hurry there, and it seems like your husband heard the crash too, because he's walking to the room with his hands held out in front of him to avoid any more accidents.

you open the door to find your son sitting in the same position you found wonwoo in not too long ago, rubbing at his forehead.

and, wait, is that wonwoo's glasses he's wearing?

"oh baby, what happened?" you coo, kneeling to the ground to gently pry the too big glasses slipping off your son's nose and handing it back to wonwoo.

"was wearing daddy's glasses to look like him, but i couldn't see anything, so i bumped into my cupboard," your son whines, and you can't believe you have two clumsy boys living in your house.

"you're just like your daddy, aren't you?" you laugh, and wonwoo chuckles as well. you sit down on the floor, pulling your son into your lap to fuss over him and make sure he's not seriously injured, and wonwoo joins you too.

"does anything else hurt, baby?" you ask, and your son shakes his head. "just have a boo-boo here, mommy," he says, pointing at his forehead.

you lean in to press a loud smooch to your son's forehead, pulling away to grin at him. "now your boo-boo will go away!"

"and what about my boo-boo?" wonwoo interrupts, and you can't help but laugh at how serious he looks.

"come here, you big baby."

(the rest of the morning is spent in both your boys arguing over who needs more cuddles from you. the stack of pancakes grow cold in the kitchen.)

jihoon:

"welcome hom- woah, what's got you in a rush?" you ask when your husband whizzes past you just as he returns home from work. you see him disappear into his studio, so you know he has a 'musical emergency.'

back from your dating days in college, jihoon had always been interested in producing music. although he didn't make a career out of it, he'd still write and compose songs in his free time.

at this point, you've lost track of how many songs jihoon has dedicated to you and your precious daughter. his family was his biggest inspiration, and you could really feel the genuine love and care he had for the most important girls in his life from his songs.

but today, there was something off about his production process.

"y/n, have you seen my headphones?" he asks you when you enter the studio.

"i swear i haven't touched them!" you raise your arms in surrender, reminded of how you had accidentally knocked a glass of water onto jihoon's headphones a few years back. ever since that day, you've made sure not to touch his music equipment, because you knew how precious they were to him.

"shit...." he mumbles worriedly. it wasn't like him to misplace his belongings, and no one really went into his studio if he hadn't invited or allowed them to.

just then, your daughter waddles into the room, a proud grin etched on her face.

"papa! i made you a song!"

jihoon, momentarily forgetting about his lost headphones to switch into girl-dad mode.

"can we hear it baby?" you ask encouragingly, and your daughter just gestures for you both to follow her.

jihoon and you trail behind your daughter, entering her bedroom to find an amusing sight. the mini pink, barbie piano and microphone set you bought for her was set up with a torch laying on the floor, which probably meant to imitate a spotlight.

on the bed was a toy laptop one of her friends had gifted her, and jihoon's headphones.

"used papa's special earmuffs to make a song!" your daughter claps, and all the tension in jihoon's body melts away in an instant. "mom, will you hold the spotlight please?"

you nod, silently gesturing at jihoon to record your daughter's performance. once her stage is set, she sits at the mini piano, positions the microphone near her mouth and starts playing her song.

it was endearing to see her look as serious as her father when he would play and sing his songs for you. the lyrics were mostly random sentences about unicorns and ice-cream, and the keys of the piano played discordant notes, but you'd never heard a more beautiful thing in your life before this.

(your daughter gets bored of performing after repeating 'twinkle twinkle little star' 5 times, so she runs away to watch cartoons, and jihoon finally stops recording. neither of you point out the happy tears that must've spilled out sometime during your daughter's rendition of 'old mcdonald had a farm' with extra animals like hippos and zebras. you can only wish the melody of your life remains this beautiful forever.)

(bonus, inspired by sousy. jihoon has a son in this:)

"y/n, has jihoon ever told you about his pink underwear?" mingyu giggles, like the menace he is.

"mingyu, have you told your wife about that horrendous bowl cut you had in high school? i have pictures i can show her right now." jihoon glares at his friend.

"pink underwear?" you laugh, amused. "i'm yet to hear about it."

"god, y/n, don't listen to him," jihoon groans, but the sound is drowned out by seokmin and soonyoung's ridiculously loud cackling. they point in the direction behind you, so you and jihoon turn around to see what they're laughing at.

sure enough, it's your son, running around the house like a madman with his father's infamous pink underwear atop his head.

"what?" jihoon gasps. he clearly remembers placing the underwear at the very back of his closet so no one would see it. how on earth did his son find it?

the answer comes in the form of a mischievously smirking jeonghan and joshua who emerge from your bedroom a few seconds later, fist-bumping each other.

yeah, jihoon has a bad headache now.

seokmin:

"lovie, have you seen my dodgers jersey?" seokmin asks, popping his head into the bathroom, where you were currently finishing up your skincare routine.

"it should be in your closet," you reply, applying sunscreen on your face.

"but it isn't," seokmin pouts, and that alarms you.

seokmin's doders jersey is one of his most prized possessions. he's even joked about being buried with it when he dies so he can continue being a fan in the afterlife. (you don't really encourage those jokes.)

if it isn't in his closet, where else would it be?

"i'll help you look for it," you offer, and the both of you nearly empty out your entire wardrobe to find the jersey, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"it's okay, we're getting late," seokmin smiles. "the guys will kill us if we're late. i'll just wear something else."

and with that, seokmin changes into another outfit, and you wonder how he's always so easy-going. if you weren't able to find your favorite shirt, you'd sulk about it till the time you found it.

the jersey is forgotten a while later. you busy yourself with packing a baby bag for your toddler, and seokmin had rushed to the convenience store when he realized that they hadn't bought any ice-cream.

you're grabbing some extra clothes for your daughter, when you realize that the house has been awfully quiet.

where's your daughter?

you call out her name, but there isn't any response that follows, and it gets you worried.

you look around the house just to be sure your daughter isn't playing hide-and-seek with you again. (she hid from you the entire day once. anything was possible.)

finally, you think of going out to the backyard to check if your daughter was there, and surprisingly, you're met with a crying seokmin.

"wha- when did you let yourself in? why are you crying, lovie?" you ask, and he sniffles.

"i forgot the keys, and i thought you'd be busy, so i let myself in through the back door, and then, i saw...."

his voice trails off, and he gestures behind him. your daughter is clad in his precious dodgers jersey, and the previously white material is stained with mud and dirt from rolling around on the floor.

"oh my god, seok," you gasp, thinking your husband was crying because his jersey was ruined, but you're even more surprised when he stops you from going over to your daughter to take the jersey away.

"i'm not sad," he explains, and you wipe his tears away. "i'm just- i'm just really happy. i asked her why she was wearing the jersey, and she said-"

"if daddy likes, then i like!" your daughter's cheery voice cuts in.

"you wore the jersey because daddy likes it?" you ask, endeared by your daughter's antics.

"mhm! daddy loves the jersey, and daddy loves me, so i wore it to make him extra happy and smiley!" your daughter grins, her eyes crinkling just like her father's, and you hear seokmin cry even louder.

"baby, i got so scared when i saw you crying," you whine, playfully hitting his arm, but then pulling him in for a hug anyways.

"i'm sorry, i couldn't contain the tears," seokmin chuckles wetly. the moment is interrupted by a phone call from seungcheol, who says that if your family doesn't arrive in the next 30 minutes, all the food was going to be finished.

(on the drive to the picnic, you tap seokmin's shoulder to catch his attention. "thank you, for teaching our daughter how to love. she's this way because she learned from the best."

seokmin can only smile back at you, and none of you talk about how tears well up in his eyes again.)

mingyu:

it was a friday evening, and mingyu decided that his tried-and-tested, well-loved kimchi jjigae would be the perfect dinner. he grabs the ingredients and utensils and gets to work right away.

while you were finishing up some work, you were greeted by the comforting aroma of mingyu's cooking. unable to help yourself, you quickly go over to the kitchen, and your heart is filled with warmth at the sight of mingyu, tall mingyu, hunched over the too-low stove, making dinner for your family of three.

"what's cookin', good-lookin'?" you say, sneaking up behind mingyu, effectively startling your husband, who jumps up in the air with a squeal.

"shit, baby, you gave me a heart-attack," mingyu whines, pretending to be upset but still leaning down to kiss you sweetly.

"and a stained white t-shirt," you giggle, and mingyu stares at the white tank top he was wearing, with a large stain forming on it. the stew must have spilled on him when he got startled, and the thought of having to remove the stain made him groan.

"wait, where's my apron?" he questions. being a clumsy person by nature, mingyu has perfected some fool-proof techniques for himself so that he can reduce the number of disasters he creates on a daily basis. one of these techniques was to always wear an apron while cooking so that nothing splatter onto his clothes.

"isn't it here?" you ask, walking over to a cabinet where his apron is usually kept, but the spot was empty.

"that's strange," mingyu mumbles. "maybe i put it in the laundry accidentally. i'll check later."

none of you notice the blue-checkered apron stashed in a corner of your son's bedroom later that night, when you tuck him into bed.

a week goes by, and both mingyu and you forget about the missing apron, till mingyu is spilling marinara sauce on his favorite sweater.

"we'll just buy a new one," mingyu sighs when another extensive search of the kitchen had still not helped you find a new apron.

being workaholics, and chronically bad at remembering things, mingyu and you somehow forgot to buy a new apron. in fact, the thought doesn't strike him till the next week, when everyone was gathered in seungcheol's backyard for a barbecue party.

"shit, i don't have an apron," mingyu groans, having realized the lack of an apron just as he was about to start grilling the meat.

before seungcheol can give mingyu a spare, your son is rushing towards you, mingyu's missing apron tied around his waist, and the ends clutched in his tiny fists to avoid tripping on the too-long fabric for his too-small body.

"dada! i'm cooking today!"

your boy even grabs one of the kiddie plastic forks and spoons, standing next to mingyu at the grill, the apron hanging off his tiny frame, and a makeshift chef hat (a plastic bag) atop his head.

"okay, you can be my sous-chef," mingyu grins, looking at your son with love and affection in his eyes.

(your son only helps mingyu sprinkle salt over some of the pieces of meat he was grilling, but the unbridled giggles escaping him made the memory more precious.)

minghao:

"i'm bored." you announce, plopping next to your husband on the couch, snuggling up against him.

"what, you want me to dance or something?" minghao replies, looking at you with an amused grin.

"wonwoo did tell me you could bust a few moves back in the day," you tease, and minghao rolls his eyes.

"those moves were meant to be left in those days, cutie," he smiles, booping your nose. "anything else i can do to entertain you?"

you hum, contemplating what your answer should be, when you finally find the best answer.

"you should do a tea ceremony!" you suggest. "i always feel so relaxed watching you do it."

minghao gapes at you, his eyes widening. "i thought the exact same thing! i'll get the tea set, can you grab all the ingredients and utensils?"

"on it, boss," you salute, making your husband laugh at your playful demeanour, before he heads into the bedroom to retrieve his tea set.

the set was very precious to him; his grandmother had handcrafted each cup, saucer, and teapot with utmost care. she had even hand-painted each utensil, and minghao cherished the set a lot.

to his surprise, when he looks for the tea set in the dresser, where it is always stored, it's missing.

"darling, can you come in here for a sec?" minghao calls out for you, making you leave the ingredients on the kitchen counter and rushing into your bedroom at the urgency of his tone.

"where's my tea set?"

"in the dresser," you answer.

"it isn't there now," minghao frowns, and when you come closer to check, you notice the missing box.

"ah, maybe i put it somewhere else?" you mumble. "i was clearing out the dresser a few days back, and i remember taking the set out to put it somewhere else. it was too heavy for the dresser, and i didn't want to risk breaking it."

"do you remember where you put it?" minghao asks, calm and composed. he was a little antsy at first, but he trusts you with keeping his belongings safe.

"maybe in the kitchen?" you sigh, not being able to recollect. "let's go look there."

minghao follows you to the kitchen, and you both open up various cabinets and drawers, but the tea set wasn't in any of them.

just at the moment, your daughter walks into the room, confidently striding up to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a carton of orange juice.

"hi sweetie, do you want me to pour you some?" minghao asks your daughter, but she shakes her head.

"the juice isn't for me," she explains. "it's for the tea party."

"tea party?" you and minghao ask in unison, and your daughter smiles.

"come join us!"

she leads the both of you into her room, and the black box you'd been trying to find all this time is on the floor of your daughter's bedroom.

but that wasn't the end of it. your daughter had made four of her favorite dolls sit upright on plastic chairs, one left empty for her, and placed them around the small table she had in her room. and surely enough, minghao's tea set was placed on the table, with each chair having a cup placed in front of it, and the teapot in the middle.

in moments like these, with minghao's fragile tea set involved, you were glad that your daughter was responsible and careful with handling precious things, just like her father.

"do you guys want a cup too?" your daughter offers, and, is 'no' ever an answer?

(the tea set only had 6 cups, and with the last cup being handed over to you, minghao had to resort to sipping lukewarm orange juice out of his daughter's purple unicorn mug. he'd never felt happier.)

seungkwan:

making your two sons watch a horror movie, late at night, probably wasn't seungkwan's best decision as a father. but when they shot him with the puppy eyes, he couldn't help but give in.

so now, you have two seven year-olds, clutching onto you for dear life while 'monster house' plays on the TV.

"momma! make the house stop!" one son shrieks, trying to hide his entire body behind you, while your other son grips onto seungkwan's arm tightly, as if scared of being sucked into the TV and joining the kids in the movie.

"okay. that's enough," you decide, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. "this is why we have a zero tolerance policy for horror movies in this house, seungkwan."

"i'm sorry, baby," seungkwan pouts. "they looked so-"

"i know. i get it," you sigh, you yourself having given into many of their ridiculous demands only because of how wide and watery their eyes would get.

your kids really need to stop spending time with mingyu and seokmin.

"off to bed, both of you," you instruct your boys, and they waste no time, scurrying out of the living room as quickly as possible.

"should i go check if they're okay?" seungkwan asks, feeling guilty.

"they'll be fine," you insist. your boys would have been screaming their heads off by now if anything scared them even the slightest bit.

"how about we finish the movie? i'm kinda curious to see how it ends," you suggest, and seungkwan agrees.

at some point during the movie, you must have dozed off, because when you open your eyes, you find yourself in your bedroom with the sunlight peeking in through the curtains.

and you discern the cause behind your disrupted sleep.

"babe, have you seen my badminton racquets?" seungkwan whispers gently, hovering above you.

"mm, not in the storage room?" you croak out, rubbing your eyes.

"nope, i already checked, and- wait, don't fall asleep!" seungkwan whines when you cover yourself with the blankets and turn to your side to sleep again.

"it's saturday, just sleep in kwan," you groan.

"but i told jeonghan i'd play badminton with him today," seungkwan frowns.

"alright, no morning cuddles for you then," you huff, feigning annoyance.

"i guess jeonghan wouldn't mind if i don't show up," seungkwan mumbles, and you smile triumphantly as your husband joins you in bed, holding you close.

the next time you wake up, you scream.

"what happened?" seungkwan gasps, immediately waking up as well. his panic dies down as soon as he sees the sight that made you scream.

both your sons holding seungkwan's missing badminton racquets, standing at the foot of the bed. their faces were covered by ski masks, and they stared at you both, racquets ready to attack.

("boys, we aren't ghosts," you try again. your boys still aren't very convinced. they've held seungkwan and you hostage in your bedroom for an hour under the pretext of protecting themselves from 'ghosts.'

"if we're ghosts, then i guess you won't get pancakes for breakfast," your husband declares, and your boys are immediately pouncing upon you two, apologizing for thinking you were ghosts and begging you to make them pancakes.

that day you make seungkwan promise that he won't let the boys near horror movies till they're eighteen.)

hansol:

winters always got freezing cold, and you insisted that everyone in the house must have at least one woollen on, even if they're just at home. the rule was made mainly because hansol tended to run a little cold, and you had to make sure that he was bundled up in warm clothes and socks at all times.

naturally, you're surprised when you find hansol on the couch, shivering even though he's wearing a thick jumper with a hoodie on top.

"honey, what's wrong?" you frown, immediately pulling your husband into a tight hug, hoping to warm him up.

"my warm socks, i can't find them," he complains. "they've been missing for, like, a week."

"but i remember washing them last week and putting them in your dresser," you say, clearly remembering when you had put the socks along with your other laundry.

"i'll buy some later," hansol sighs, cuddling into you for more warmth. at that moment, your daughter and son run into the living room, their hands hidden behind their backs.

"mom! dad! do you wanna see something fun?" your son asks enthusiastically, and you both nod at your children.

"okay, close your eyes, and be prepared to see a beautiful princess and a dragon!" your daughter instructs. both hansol and you share an amused glance before shutting your eyes, anticipating what your children have prepared.

you hear them whisper softly, and after a couple of minutes, they tell you to open your eyes.

your children have ducked behind the table, their bodies hidden, but their arms raise upwards.

and on their arms were puppets, made with...

... hansol's socks?

your children had drawn various faces and clothes onto the socks, and they confidently started their puppet show, narrating some version of a fairytale in which a dragon is locked in a tower, and the princess comes riding in on a horse and saves the dragon.

you look down at your husband, who is thoroughly enjoying the puppet show, his laugh reverberating in the living room, which only spurs your children on to making more exaggerated motions and voices as they narrate the story.

(in the end, you give hansol some of your own pink woollen socks, and the sight of him walking around the whole house with baby pink socks is surely a memory you'll remember for a long time.)

chan:

"mm, you need to shave," you groan when chan playfully nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his stubble grazing your skin.

"you're just like the others," chan pouts.

"well, the others are right," you smile. "plus, i happen to like my husband beard-less."

"whatever you wish, is my command," chan sighs dramatically, rolling out of bed to head into the bathroom.

"don't forget to use your electric razor!" you laugh, and he groans in response.

"neither my wife nor my friends will ever let me live in peace," chan laments, walking into the bathroom. he fetches his razor, which had been kept in a box on a high shelf so that their daughter wouldn't be able to reach it, but for some strange reason, the shaving foam wasn't there next to it.

"babe, did you keep my shaving foam somewhere?" chan calls out.

"it's always in the bathroom," you answer. "i have no use for it anyways."

chan sighs, looking in different cabinets to locate the shaving foam, but it had gone missing.

just then, your daughter walks into the room, banging a spoon on a plastic lid.

"breakfast is ready!"

after making her announcement, she scurries out of the room. chan and you are quick to follow, wondering if your daughter had messed up the kitchen.

surprisingly, she takes you to her bedroom, where there's a few plastic lids filled with something, and...

"my shaving foam!" chan points out, locating the can on his daughter's dresser.

"no! whipped cream! for pancake!" your daughter retorts, pointing to the plastic lids on her bed.

she had made purple-colored pancakes with clay (the other colors had gone missing) and they were topped off with chan's shaving foam.

"yum yum!"

chan and you burst into laughter at the same time.

(later, you make some real and edible pancakes, which your daughter and husband finish up quickly. they even fight over the last pancake.

amidst the chaos of the fight, they don't notice you quietly finishing up the last pancake too.)

- fin.

taglist: @tychebaby @lecheugo @min-imum

fill this form to be added to the taglist <3

head to the masterlist for more!

#gyubakeries <3 #seventeen #ot13 #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #fluff #drabble #mansaenetwork

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softieyuume · 3 months ago

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Anything, Everything

✿ Sylus x fem!reader

✿ He'd give you everything you'd ask for and you'll treasure even the smallest of things he's given you.

✿ pure fluff.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

It wasn't an exaggeration to say Sylus was loaded with riches- from his illegal protocores trades to owning nearly worldwide armories in the palm of his hands, he's filthy rich to the point he doesn't really do much with his money other than certain necessities.

Well, that changed until you came into his life.

Sylus didn't hesitate to spoil you using his riches be it with buying you expensive jewelry, treating you with delicious foods, bringing you on spontaneous travel trips - hell, he even gave you his black credit card for you to use to your heart's content -whilst ignoring how his henchmen called their boss whipped for you numerous times- he wanted you to have anything and everything you could ever ask for.

Which is why it was surprising to Sylus when one day he found you carefully sewing your slightly torn knit grey cardigan.

Sylus leaned over by the sofa just behind you, his brows furrowed in confusion as he observed your cardigan. It looked a tad bit worn out in his eyes and he wondered why you didn't opt to just buy a new one instead.

"Sweetie, you know you don't need to fix that, right? I could just get you a new one." Sylus offered, and while the way he said it was nonchalant, internally he was concerned as he watched you continue meticulously sewing the fabric in your hands.

Were you trying to save money for some reason? Did you think Sylus couldn't afford to do that? That's ridiculous. Sylus thought to himself, thinking about what reason you could possibly have to fix that old thing.

You let out a soft chuckle, hands brushing the fabric on your lap, "I know, I know. But this cardigan has.. sentimental value, you know? Plus, it makes me happy to fix it myself."

You smiled softly, glancing at Sylus over your shoulder — you knew it must've baffled Sylus quite a bit. Heck, everything about you baffled him more often than not, and this was no exception. After all, he was quite a practical creature. In his head, you could just buy a new one, it certainly wouldn't dent his bank account that was for sure, but you felt otherwise.

"Besides, this one is very special to me." You patted the mended knit cardigan, smiling brightly up at Sylus, your eyes shone with warmth and affection. "Because it's the first gift you gave me."

Sylus blinked, stunned, before slowly his lips quirking into a soft smile. Your answer was so unexpectedly endearing, to think such a simple gift he brought for you on an impulse during the first eventful trip together turned out to be the very one you treasured most made his heart swell.

"I see." Sylus hummed with a chuckle, he moved to sit beside you on the sofa, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap.

"And here I thought you were just pinching pennies. Guess I'm not spoiling you enough, huh." He teased, peppering kisses along your face and neck as his hands rested around your waist.

"Ah! Stop it, Sy! That tickles!" You laughed, your face scrunched up as you tried to move away from him. You squirmed in his arms, struggling to stop him from peppering kisses all over your ticklish neck but your attempts were in vain.

Sylus was relentless in his playful kisses attacks, his smile growing wider and more teasing as you tried to pull away from him. His hands around your waist preventing you from escaping his embrace, refusing to let go at all.

He could do this all day if he could.

But after much protest and struggling from you, Sylus finally let you go with another chuckle, leaning back against the sofa while holding you in his lap. He looked up at you, his thumb stroking your back affectionately.

He let out a deep sigh, "You're far too sweet for your own good, you know." He smiled, gently brushing aside your hair from your face so that he could see your face better.

"At least promise me this, let me know if you ever need anything, alright?" He murmured softly, eyes locked onto yours.

You chuckled, tilting your head at Sylus's words, "But of course! You'd do everything for me, wouldn't you?" You replied cheekily, giggling as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning your forehead against his, gazing deeply into his eyes with affection.

It was a playful exchange, teasing yet heartfelt. You knew that Sylus already considered your needs, even before you voiced them.

It was one of the many reasons that you loved him. Every action, every gesture, every expression spoke volumes in your mind. Sylus didn't have to say much to make you feel loved.

"Every penny, every dime, I'd spend it all on you, sweetie." He replied with a soft sigh. Sylus gently pulled you further into his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

He was a possessive lover, even if he didn't show it often. It's hard not to be selfish when it comes to you: you were everything to him, after all.

He pressed a light kiss on your jawline, warm breath tickling against your skin. "Everything."

You sighed softly with content, your eyes closing as you leaned into his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck more tightly than before.

You loved it when Sylus held you like he was doing now - it made you feel safe, cherished, and adored all at once. And it always made your heart flutter when he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, making you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him.

And you knew that to Sylus, you are.

You leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss, whispering sweetly, "I love you, Sylus."

Sylus's lips curled into a fond smile when he felt your lips against his, his heart skipping a beat. He returned your kiss with equal passion, his arms tightening around your waist, keeping you close. He loved this feeling - being able to hold you like this, to feel your heartbeat against his chest, to feel your warmth. It was addicting, and he didn't want to ever let her go.

"I love you more, my beloved.”

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #lnds sylus #lnds x reader #lnds fanfic #love and deepspace x reader

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boywithskull · 5 months ago

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Francis Abernathy is such a fantastic character to me, because he’s not outwardly violent like Charles, nor increasingly cold and self-serving like Henry, yet he is just as shallow. I often see the sentiment that his ending is so tragic and how he was forced into that unhappy, het marriage. As he expresses in his suicide letter, Francis ultimately succumbs to his own lack of moral strength and failure to act (“Forgive me for the things I did but mostly the ones I did not.”) Obviously I will acknowledge that the marriage situation was unfair — no one deserves to be ousted from their family for their sexuality. However, it really was not his only choice. Just as Richard comes to realise (and is quite disgusted by), Francis would rather remain trapped than have to get a job, provide for himself, and make his own life. It reminds me a lot of Julian’s ending, and how Richard says he could at least respect it if Julian had turned them in, since it would show some strength of character, but his running away only exposed how weak-willed he was all along. Perhaps Francis has a better moral compass than Henry, but his failure to use it renders him just as at fault for everything that happened. As always, Francis values his comfort over his happiness. That’s his fatal flaw.

#this fucking book #the secret History #Francis Abernathy #he’s so pathetic #I love him #boywithskullposts

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savanir · 7 months ago

Text

DP x DC ficlet

is it even a ficlet anymore, this thing has gotten incredibly out of hand...

So a while back I saw this

and I picked the Green Lantern one and then just kinda wrote a full fic so...

It had been a good party, official yes but despite that still festive enough and with just a bittersweet hint. as all good meaningful parties should be like, unless you’re looking to get absolutely shitfaced.

But hey Rowan deserved a proper sendoff for making it to this point and not dying in the process. Hal is going to miss the old pilot though.

"Hal, I got something for you, before I forget"

"Hm, what is it"

The old man puts a small intricate glass model of a f16 fighter in his hand.

"Back when I started I was given this for good luck and protection"

Rowan presses it down firmly and stands there all official like "may it grant you both as it did for me"

They both stand there for a second before laughing.

“Feel free to shelf the whole luck thing, what’s really important is skill and experience. Still, knowing you, you can definitely use the protection ”

Hal grins, "Thanks, I'll keep close"

"You better, the sentimental value is sky high" Rowan slaps his shoulder with another laugh.

Good lord what a dork.

The old retiring pilot wasn't paying attention, too caught up in everything else but Hal saw the faint and brief green hue coming from his hand.

In a panic he slammed his other hand over top. Completely missing the quietly whispered "protect"

Too busy cussing out his ring in his head, he swears that thing is trying to out him on purpose sometimes.

This time it wasn't the ring though, so it's a good thing it's an inanimate object and can't be upset at how wrong Hal is being right now.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah! Let's get back to the others"

The evening ends uneventfully.

---

It's really only until quite a bit later that things start to happen.

"Green lantern" its batman's business voice.

Both Hal and John look up.

"Jordan" ah shit.

"I'll catch you up later" and he leaves Hal behind, traitor.

"What's up spooky"

"You need to update your file, it is missing critical information, and on that note I wasn’t aware that the lantern suits grant you intangibility now"

"I... what..? It doesn't? What are you talking about spooks"

"Hrn" Batman pulls up a screen and shows him footage of the latest fight, in it you can clearly see something was supposed to hit Hal but went right through him "You're telling me you didn't know or notice this?"

Hal just looks kinda sick. That would have been a bad hit and he just straight up didn't even notice.

Batman just kind of silently looks at him and he must have come to some conclusion because the next thing Hal knows this comes out of his mouth.

"I've already ran your blood through the lab, it's not a sudden emergence of a meta gene so it's either from the lantern corps or you've otherwise externally been affected by something that's causing this"

Hal closes his eyes and internally counts to ten, it doesn't help.

Batman takes his silence to mean he can keep talking. The man is on an unusual roll. Hal would have been ecstatic if he didn't hate the topic quite so much.

"It would have been best if it had something to do with your ring however you seem to be completely unaware and I've also noted that the green of your ring and the green glow that comes with the density shifting are different"

He has examples with corresponding color codes, Hal is so tired.

“let's set a time frame…” Batman pulls up some documents and graph on the screen “seeing as you are unaware of this development I will set the starting point of this potential change as of now to right after the last time you have been known to be hit in a fight and before the first known instance of you being able to density shift, that leaves us with a full month.”

Hal really, really does not want to be here anymore.

“In this month you have not gone off planet so whatever caused this is on Earth” Batman pauses for a moment, “has anything significant happened during that time that springs to mind now?”

“no, nothing significant has happened during that time, frankly it’s been a very pleasant uneventful four weeks in which I finally managed to catch a break and it figures something crazy has apparently happened anyway”

Hal rubs his face with both hands, “but right now I couldn’t tell you what, anyway, does this have to be a bad thing? I for one am very glad that hit didn’t actually land”

“So far only Superman has had the privilege of having sudden emergence of new powers work out for him” Batman huffs, “it would be best to monitor this carefully, if anything springs to mind do not hesitate to inform me, the sooner this is figured out the better”

“awww you do care” Hal is using humor cope, sadly it’s Batman, so it’s not very effective.

“Jordan” now Batman sounds tired, he’s not the one with random surprise density shifting, Hal understand that Spooky’s crippling chronic paranoia must be exhausting but right now he’s the one freaking out considering this is apparently not a meta gene related development, it would have been so much easier if it was, oh and about that, just how and when did Batman get his blood exactly? he would like to know now.

---

sadly he does not get to know now. or anytime soon (or ever). it’s chaos right after, because of course it is.

knocked out of the sky and lying amongst the rubble, if their enemy spots him he’s in bigger shit than he already is, but he can’t fucking move and the next thing he knows he’s invisible.

and there is just nothing enjoyable about it.

Barry doesn’t know that though, “that was something else, just one moment and schwup and you were just gone, some sort of green lantern light bending? he looked right through you, thank god he did too”

shit shit, “no that was..." it was like he just ceased to exist, movies and books and whatever other media always depicts it as such a cool thing but frankly it was terrifying. And he would prefer things that are terrifying not to happen to him, for obvious reasons, “honestly actually it’s complicated, stealth tech” Grade A bullshit.

“well it’s awesome”

“it was useful just now but not really my style you know”

Barry slings his arm over Hal’s shoulder and gives him a one armed hug, “everything worked out” Hal can feel some tension flow out of his friend, “well! better get busy cleaning this mess up” and with a blink he’s gone.

Hal does not want to talk about this with Batman, but knowing him, he probably already knows anyway, it would be less of a headache to go to him than have him go to Hal.

Hal wants to enjoy whatever this is, he really does, but he doesn’t know what caused this, he doesn’t know what triggers the new abilities or whatever they are, he doesn’t know what effects this shit is going to have in the future, he just doesn’t know anything, normally he doesn’t mind not knowing some things, he’s fine leaving the knowing to the people better suited for the more complicated knowing, but he would very much like to know more about this please.

---

Then they face off against an enemy and in the process Hal drains his ring completely and the next hit is going to be bad, so what will happen? Will he somehow go intangible again? Turn invisible and use the confusion to evade and attack?

Apparently this time he just gets a glowing green dome shield. Something very normal for him to have and use, if only it came out of his ring that is.

Nobody notices that something is wrong, nobody besides Batman that is.

"That's three new abilities that only appear during life threatening situations"

Hal has actually seriously gone over that month by now, but nothing, no answers. He's physically fine, mentally a little damaged but nothing new there, they all are. Every test he begrudgingly went through answered nothing. He was fine. Whatever was going on actually had nothing to do with him.

And at the same time it had everything to do with him because this is only happening to him.

As usual (by now) he takes out his little glass fighter jet and runs his thumb over the wings. It is soothing strangely enough. Like a stim toy.

"The last thing to try is a thorough examination by someone from the justice league dark"

Hal groans, magic, ok then, "Alright let's get this over with. Who knows maybe I'm just haunted"

It turns out he’s not haunted, this is a good thing... supposedly, Well let’s just say that Hal would have not minded being haunted or something if that meant it could be fixed, or just explained.

It doesn’t really need to be fixed, whatever this is has been very helpful after all, but he would do basically anything for an explanation right about now.

“you are not haunted or otherwise magically compromised, but I do sense faint traces of energy from the infinite realms” Zatanna is a godsent, finally something to work with.

“from the who whats?” Hal is worried, the occult field is definitely not his area of expertise. He's a space cop, not a space demonhunter… oh that would be pretty cool though, with like a hood and twin cyber crossbows, maybe he should incorporate that somehow.

“the infinite realms… have you recently been in touch with any death related realities?”

Well there was that time when he got booted to the death universe and he died and then he was a black lantern but he got better, that’s all very much very behind him.

She better not be about to tell him that stuff still has lingering consequences.

oh god dammit that’s exactly what is going on isn’t it?

"How recently?"

"In the past week?"

"Oh, no" Hal would have known if that was the case, death stuff tends to be hard to ignore.

Zatanna frowns, that's probably not a good sign.

"But you said I'm not compromised right?" Right now what Hal wants to know the most is if this is changing him. Cause it tends to be bad for him when that's the case.

"No this is just lingering traces of something or someone else using their powers near you"

???!!??!?

"What are the infinite realms?" oh hey there Batman, was wondering when you would show up again.

"It's the afterlife, or... more like a collection of all afterlives. The infinite realms is very literal in their naming. It is home to powerful dead entities. As a general rule magic users are discouraged from interacting with it.

"Hrn"

"What did you say happened to you so far Hal?"

"Uhm, density shifting, invisibility and then a green dome-like shield, a lot like my own energy constructs"

"that sounds like pretty standard stuff for a realms being"

"Soooo what, did one leave the afterlife and decide to follow me around or something?"

"I cannot conclusively say, I can only say that you've been close to one using its abilities"

Batman folds his arms over his chest, "We shouldn’t form theories on these findings alone, Zatanna are these realm beings dangerous?"

"Hard to say, they come in all manner of forms, some small and harmless and others on the level of world destroying gods."

Great great great, awesome, well it’s probably safe to say that whatever decided to stick around Hal isn’t small and harmless, cause small and harmless doesn’t sound strong enough to casually turn him intangible or invisible… he could be wrong though.

“I do advise caution, beings from the infinite realms also have the ability to possess someone, they call it overshadowing”

Batman’s lips thin and Hal tenses up, mind control of any kind is always awful.

“I’ll place a ward on you, as a precaution” energy starts to gather in her hands.

Batman moves for the door, “we might need to look into a way to force this being to reveal itself, it would be best if we could convince it to return to their realm”

“Well I mean-” Hal starts, “like I get that, but they have been a great help so far”

“they are a security risk”

“I’m just saying, I am grateful that they kept me from being confined to the medical wing for who even knows how long, who knows they might just be shy, wouldn’t it be better to convince them to become our ally, like Deadman. instead of telling them to leave. just cause we don’t understand how they work yet doesn’t mean they are bad and should be booted out of our reality”

Batman narrows his eyes at Hal and turns to Zatanna who is finished with placing the ward on Hal, “Zatanna please send me all you have on the infinite realms, I will do my own research” and with that he sweeps out of the room, very dramatic.

“Ass” Hal whispers under his breath.

“He’s worried”

“well he’s being a dick about it, as usual” Hal’s fingers find his little plane once again “... hey do you think they could communicate through one of those oejah boards?”

Zatanna snorts, “it’s Ouija- and please don’t”

---

No information from the JLD has been useful so far in coaxing the realms being to reveal themselves and for the most part things just go on as usual.

“Whoever they are, they followed me when I went off planet and it might just be my imagination but I had a feeling that their stuff was a lot more… potent? out there? I don’t know it was kinda strange, it just felt stronger”

��but they didn’t reveal themselves to you?”

“nope, they must know that I know now too, so they have decided to just… go on as they always have I guess”

“hrn” Batman is leafing through files, because of this whole mess he’s uncovered hidden government organizations targeting occult entities as well as inhumane laws that stand directly opposed to the meta protection acts.

Why is he working with paper regarding this matter? Well it turns out there is a infinite realms being that can possess electronica and it was only because of the protections the JLD had put in place on the Watchtower that the entity didn’t overtake it in its entirety.

Watching Constantine freak out had been mildly entertaining but Zatanna had once again reminded Batman to be very careful, Batman had begrudgingly admitted he had made a slight misstep while digging for answers… in his head, not out loud, god forbid.

“this whole thing is turning out a lot bigger than we thought huh, good thing we are dealing with it now” Hal stretches his arms above his head, “anyway I am going to go grab something to eat”

“the rapport-” Batman doesn’t bother looking at him.

“yeah yeah” Hal doesn’t either while walking out of the room, dismissively flicking his hand, “don’t worry about it spooky”

Hal takes his little plane out on the way to the cafeteria and fiddles with it in his hand, once there he puts it on the table next to Barry before getting himself something to eat.

They catch up, Hal complains (bitches) about Batman, others come and go, Zatanna quickly checks up on the ward she placed which makes Barry raise an eyebrow at Hal, “Ghost protection”

“... no such thing”

Zatanna glares.

Hal can see them both gearing up to start the magic is just science we haven’t fully scienced out yet argument again, “alright! I’m full” he stands up, “if you need me I’ll be writing that rapport, later” and gets the hell out of there.

It’s when he has just reached his preferred spot to work on the boring paperwork stuff when the alarms go off throughout what he can only imagine must probably be the entire Watchtower.

It seems like something triggered all of the JLD’s defenses in one go.

Impressive, but also very worrying.

The rapport is going to have to wait.

People are gathering in the meeting room and Batman is already taking the lead, “status”

“as of a couple minutes ago there was a build up of as of yet unknown energy which then burst in the cafeteria knocking out Flash” Martian Manhunter says, “Zatanna says we are most likely dealing with another being from the infinite realms”

Superman groans, this means he’s out.

It’s a good thing they now have defenses against overshadowing though. Being effectively trapped in a space station (because currently the thing is on lockdown) where literally anyone could suddenly actually be the enemy is the kind of situation a whole slew of horror movies like to be about.

“We will need to be extremely careful while finding and then dealing with this entity”

It has certainly been quite some time since the Watchtower got directly hit like this.

Hal pulls out his little plane.

or, he would, if he still had it.

thoroughly distracted now he suddenly realizes it’s no longer on his person.

Spooky is probably not going to like it if during the infinite realms attacker hunt he takes the opportunity to look around for his missing little fighter jet.

well what he doesn’t know won’t harm him.

His plan of looking for the plane while looking for the ghost is working out well enough.

In fact it is working out so good that he finds both at the same time.

At that point Hal had started wondering if maybe Barry had picked it up for him at the cafeteria before the attack happened and that the little thing was now in the medical wing with him.

That turned out to clearly not be the case once he found the tiny thing glowing green and floating in the middle of the hallway.

“alright ghosty, that’s really important to me and I would like it back undamaged”

the tiny plane turned to now point directly at him, hmm, yeah that's not creepy at all.

“... please don’t launch yourself at me” he foolishly says which of course means that’s exactly what it does next.

He uses his ring to construct a net with a pillow inside to catch the tiny jet, completely forgetting that it’s overshadowed and can thus easily just go intangible and right through his creations.

Instead it hits him square in the chest, rather painfully he might add and then just stops glowing and drops, making Hal scramble to not have it fall and shatter in a million tiny pieces on the ground.

immediately all the sensors stop detecting the presence of a realms being and the alarms die down.

Whatever was in the Watchtower has left the building.

or…

Hal looks down at the tiny plane in his hands, his talisman of protection and has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hey there little guy, might want to explain yourself?” he says to the tiny jet.

It vibrates in his hands.

“... yeah I figured, shit”

---

“I say just smash the bloody thing and be done with it, preferably that takes care of it once and for all” Constantine glares down at the tiny jet.

Hal is almost halfway over the table to shield the little thing, covering it from Constantine’s sight with his hand, “don’t you dare” he growls.

“it would be best for everyone involved, for all we known you could have gone full liminal what with how long you’ve been carrying the blasted thing around”

Zatanna is going over the little thing with her own magic, “it’s trapped”

“In that case just straight up trying to murder it would be the worst thing to do” Hal glares at Constantine some more. Who clearly doesn’t give a shit, figures, all stressed out about dealing with things from the infinite realms but whenever he feels he has the upper hand he’s more than happy to go full nuclear.

“it would be best if we had a way of figuring out their intentions” Batman looks down at the tiny jet impassively.

“Well, another reason to just carefully release this creature instead” Hal responds.

Zatanna’s magic fades away, “I would say that the fact it’s been protecting Hal for as long as he has it is a positive sign”

“hrn, but now it has gone and knocked Flash out, so what does that say” Batman huffs, “it’s too risky”

“Constantine and I will set up everything we can so it won’t be able to escape or try anything dangerous” Zatanna stops looking at Batman and turns back to the tiny plane, “if it turns out to be malicious we could simply banish it back to the realms, killing it would be rather stupid, we do not know what kind of connections it might have within the realms, we might accidentally anger something far worse with such a rash act”

Constantine groans but accepts Zatanna’s reasoning, Batman nods as well.

It’s only then that Hal moves out of the way.

Any plans of attack or banishment fly right out of the window once the two magic users are done and a young boy manifests from the tiny fighter jet.

Hal pushes Constantine aside to get to the boy’s side.

“Jordan, are you insane! Get back here!”

“Hey, kid, can you hear me? please open your eyes, slowly, take your time”

Batman has also moved forward much to Constantine’s frustration. Don't these two morons get that their protections won’t do shit if you just casually stroll into the circle?

Batman is mostly concerned in being able to step in should the boy prove to be a hostile entity anyway, but at the same time… well, that’s a child.

The boy kind of dazedly opens his eyes, looks at Hal and then seems to become aware of his own arms and hands, after opening and closing those a couple times he looks back at Hal and lets out a breath that can only be described as relieved and promptly passes out into him.

Well, Hal figures that settles it then. He doesn’t know shit about looking after a kid, and definitely not one who is probably quite dead, but this one is his, back off Batman.

they all startle rather violently when rings of blinding white light pass over the boy and suddenly the kid in Hal’s arms is a bit warmer and seems to have a sluggish pulse and also his clothes are different and his hair is now black and-

Hal is up and moving towards the medical wing before his mind catches back up with him. He can hear Batman behind him, it seems like Constantine and Zatanna aren’t moving after him as fast.

Well anyway his life is already so goddamn weird, this might as well happen.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny fenton #danny phantom #hal jordan #green lantern #phanfic #batman #zatanna #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #so this is sure a thing I made #should I put this on ao3 as well? I might #3800 + words #savwrites

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shorthaltsjester · 8 months ago

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there is something so, so devastating to me about imogen having spent the past weeks utilizing how much like her mother she appears to be as a way for the hells to gain intel and slip past different situations but how significantly her like . relvin vibes have increased in the past couple episodes. and of course we only have the one interaction with him but the temult dynamic is one of the ones that spins my brain around in knots. there is something very juicy to me about an imogen who can’t escape her mother’s fate because she looks like her spitting image and has her same powers and who can’t escape her father’s fate because she’s also powerless watching the woman she loves disappear.

like relvin in that visit is of course walled off and he’s decades down the road of having seen the woman he loves disappear into the unknown of her powers and what we got of his response to liliana and the idea of helping imogen save her wasn’t unlike imogen’s recent response to laudna. his comment that he always figured that liliana would realize gelvaan wasn’t the place for her, he just also hoped they’d go together when she left is like the domestic small town mirror of imogen’s illogical but real griefguilt about leaving laudna alone by fighting against predathos. i mean relvin specifically brings up that he doesn’t know if liliana was lying to him the whole time about her powers or if she didn’t know either, “it’s a lot to take in at once. you think you know someone, there’s a whole part of their life that they just been keeping secret from you. i was angry. i’m still angry. but you know, a little part of me wants to believe she was just doing it to protect you.“ a sentiment echoed by imogen’s responses to laudna the past few episodes.

and at the end of that gelvaan visit, relvin speaking up enough to tell imogen to “tell her…” but not having anything to say. because liliana made her choice and he knows his words didn’t mean anything before. imogen just watching as laudna shoves a dagger into her own chest, imogen telling her “i’ll always love you, laudna. i just don’t know what to do with it.”

god, in general, imogen who grew up knowing that love isn’t enough. that love is important and it’s a lot, but not enough. relvin and imogen standing with a chasm of grief and a silver locket between them and “i never want you to be afraid of me, daddy” “me neither.” and laudna’s “i don’t like people being mad at me.” and imogen’s “i know.”

because imogen is her father’s daughter. like absolutely with anger at him and complexity in that relationship but silly little cowboy jokes aside, the values imogen expresses are ones that — when not ones born of her experiences with her powers — seem very much contextualized by her upbringing. i mean the ideal life that she dreamt of and dismissed with laudna someday when the apocalypse is over is a small cottage with some horses. relvin lives in a farmhouse furnished for one.

i’ve talked before about how For Me the most fruitful lens for viewing imogen’s story is one of generational trauma, and i think the reasons for that re: liliana are obvious. but i also think that being raised by someone who isn’t privy to the intricacies of whatever haunts their spouse enough that it’s been passed down is another sort of fucked up legacy and i am truly delighted/sorrowed by how messily and interestingly imogen sits at the intersection of these dual temult legacies; one of leaving and one of being left.

#imogen temult #relvin temult #liliana temult #laudna #imogen + laudna #the temults #cr3 #cr spoilers #critical role #very slowly tryin to put together a webweave about this but . god laura will make characters with the most interesting family dynamics #and matt will run wild with them and i am left to witness and lose my marbles about it

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steddiehyperfixation · 18 days ago

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Footsteps pad down the hallway as Steve and Eddie make their way to their bedroom at an honestly irresponsible hour given that they both have work in the morning. Yawning, talking quietly. They get ready for bed one at a time in their small bathroom, Eddie settling under the covers with a book while Steve finishes brushing his teeth.

There's a smile in Eddie's voice when he speaks, the words muffled to outsiders by the rustling of sheets as Steve climbs into bed. Whatever it is, it makes Steve laugh, which makes Eddie laugh too. They fall in and out of bouts of talking and giggling, the only two people in the world - or at least it must feel that way, alone together at such an absurd time of night, in the familiar comfort and quiet of their shared bed and shared home.

They don't know that their teenage daughter is still awake in the room next door, listening to their laughter floating through their house's thin walls. She smiles to herself in the dark, warmed by the simple and genuine joy in that sound.

They don't know that this is far from the first time she's heard them laughing together in private. They don't know that she's absorbed every smile they've given each other, every kiss and kindness and warm conversation she's ever witnessed them exchange, and with every one she has learned what love looks like. She may make a whole dramatic show of gagging or pulling a face at some of her dads' displays of affection for each other (she is Eddie Munson's daughter after all), but they don't know how much she actually appreciates the fact that her parents are still so happily in love, that after nearly 30 years together they still genuinely enjoy being around each other. Their relationship began long before her and the love they have for each other continues still not because of her or in spite of her but simply alongside the love they have for her in equal measure.

There is so much love in this house, of that she has never had any doubt. She loves her dads, her dads love her, and her dads love each other, and those are facts, fundamental truths that have been shaped into the very foundation of her bones as she's grown up. No argument or mistake or disagreement has ever been - or will ever be - enough to waver that. Even in moments of anger there has always been love, unquestionably. They don't know just how deeply she knows that. They don't know just how much she values that.

Sleepy and sentimental, she thinks of friends she knows who have grown up in broken homes and are drawn to broken relationships, and she feels so incredibly grateful for the happy childhood Steve and Eddie have given her and the example they've set of such a healthy, loving relationship for her to look up to. They don't know that she knows how lucky she is to have them.

One day I'll tell them, she thinks as she rolls over onto her side and lets her body grow heavy with sleep. One day I'll thank them for teaching me what love is.

#had some sappy sentimental thoughts in the middle of the night so naturally i had to project them onto steddie #steddie #domestic steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #and their daughter #stranger things #ficlet #headcanon #mine

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miguelhugger2099 · 9 months ago

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Punk!Miguel who’s proud of his tattoos. At least most of them. He has some professionally done and others were stick and pokes from when him and Gabriel were younger.

Punk!Miguel who watches you with a smile when you touch up and down his arm. He hides the shivers down his spine when your perfectly manicured pink and green nails rake across the art decorated on him.

“What’s this one?” You poke at a terrible done smiley face, it was a little blobbed but barely noticeable with the much nicer ones done around it.

“One of the first tries my brother did on me when he was starting out.”

“And you kept it?” You tilt your head with a scrunch of your nose. Miguel laughs.

“Sentimental value.”

You scoff. “No way.”

“Yeah, way.” He takes your hands and pulls you closer, lugging you forward onto his lap where you belonged. Getting yourself comfortable you placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you just gonna have them on your arms?” You ask, tugging down his shirt for a peek at any new ones. Miguel smirks and stops your peeking by tsking and shaking his head—a knowing look on his face.

“Course not but tattoos cost money, babe.”

“You should get one of me.” You pout your lips, crossing your arms that makes you seem snobbish.

“What? Like get one of your face?” He laughs and leans back on his hands.

“No! Like—I dunno! Something sentimental about…me?” You look away, feeling the prickling embarrassment crawling up your neck. “Never mind!”

“Oh, so you want to be on my body, huh?” He teases, taking your hand and sliding it under his tank top to feel his warm stomach, faint dips of abs.

“You know what I mean!” You whine, feeling frozen with him holding your hand in place. He can’t help but find you adorable. Letting go of your hand to come around your waist as he leans up again, one hand coming down to cup your ass. He swallows your squeak with a kiss, unable to stop himself from biting into your sweetness.

Punk!Miguel who—even if he teased you about it—actually adored the idea of having a tattoo of you on him.

Punk!Miguel who thought day and night of what could represent you. Flowers he felt was done often, your name was cute but basic and anything else could very well be mistaken for something else. He wanted something that was obviously you.

Punk!Miguel who was rearranging his room again, bustling through various boxes for some spring cleaning.

Punk!Miguel who found his box of memories from when you two first began dating. It had been filled with all your gifts and letters you’d given him—every last piece saved securely in the corner of his room.

He smiles as he opens the box up again. Some pieces of papers falling out and the little broken keychain you got to match with him until it snapped when he accidentally sat on it.

He sits at his desk, flipping through the pages and tiny plushies you’ve given him. His heart swelling at the swirls in your writing with blue ink—the bunny pen you always wrote with.

The smile on his face continues as he reads through your words of love for him—words that you often found too difficult to say. He slams his forehead on the desk, blush coating his cheeks and ears while he groans loudly.

Each letter you’d given him ended with a print of your kiss mark at the very bottom. Some of it was a matte red, others was a faint glitter stain, but most of it was a soft pinkish color. The kind that was glossy and gave you just enough color that it looked tinted and natural.

His finger grazes the mark, an idea popping in his head.

Punk!Miguel who goes to a tattoo shop he was very well acquainted with, with an artist he knew extra well.

He slams his arm on the counter where a man was behind it, sucking on a lollipop and doodling in his sketchbook. The guy raises an annoyed brow.

“Do you have any space open for a walk-in client?” Miguel asks with a smirk.

“I don’t have space for annoying ones.” He sighs and puts his drawing pad away.

“I have money this time, Gabri. Plus, family discount.”

Punk!Miguel who is both afraid and excited to show you what he’s done to himself. He feels his heart hammering while he preps himself to show you. He’d done the aftercare as precisely as possible, taking extra care of it because this was no ordinary tattoo.

Punk!Miguel that lets you take off his shirt when he tells you he’s gotten a tattoo of you.

Punk!Miguel who smiles with amusement when you gasp and hit his arm that you were joking before! That tattooing is a permanent thing! He tells you that he knows.

His heart stills when you eyes land on his chest. On his left side, where his heart would be was your kiss mark. Just like the ones you left on the letters you used to give him.

You touch your lips subconsciously, your other set of fingers hovering over his lifted skin. You look up for permission and he nods, brining himself closer.

You marvel at the piece of work that replicated your lips. “Oh, Miguel…” You sigh, blinking back tears.

“Are you getting emotional?”

“No!”

He brings you to his chest in a tight hug, your hand still resting beside your kiss mark now permanently etched on his person—a permanent reminder that he is yours and that he loves you.

#i need a cold cigarette to ease the pain #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #punk!migs

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kings-highway · 4 months ago

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haikyuu ships but its ways they said "i love you" before they had the courage to say "i love you."

daisuga: Suga's favourite movie of all time doesn't really mesh with Daichi. He thinks it's confusing and weird, and the gore is way over the top. But Suga loves it, and the comfort it provides, especially when he's sick, so Daichi always watches it with him even if he hates it. "Why do you always agree to this?" Suga asks, as Daichi's settling in to ride out another viewing. "Because it's something you love," he replies, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

iwaoi: Iwaizumi doesn't think he's ever going to convince Oikawa that he's the best setter, or that he's worked hard enough, or that he doesn't need to compare himself to everyone else. But he hates the way Oikawa can't seem to find value in himself outside of some seemingly fickle ranking system in his mind. So when they're fighting, and Oikawa keeps saying that it's just "objective fact" that Tobio is better than him, Iwa has to grab him by the face and tell him: "I won't let you slander things I care about."

ushiten: Tendou had often made the joke about being Ushijima's best friend, because it was funny. All their team, their classmates, always laughed. "He's my bestest bud," Tendou would say, because the whole school knew they made a funny pair, and it was laughable to think Ushijima would ever articulate a sentiment as juvinile as "best friends." Of course, when Ushijima realizes that people find this joke funny, he's very confused. "If it is a matter of not being good enough for you," Ushijima says, because he cannot think of a reason anyone would disparage Tendou, so it must be joke at his own expense, "then I will earn it."

kagehina: Hinata gets injured late in their second year. Its not the worst injury in the world and will heal just fine, but it takes him out of practice for a few weeks at the beginning of summer. He expects Kageyama to forget about him during this time. What good is a spiker who can't jump, can't even practice? But that doesn't happen. Kageyama seems to, if Hinata's not mistaken, dote on him. Carries his stuff, scolds him for not elevating the offended ankle properly, tells him to be careful. "Why are you being so fussy?" hinata asks. "Because I can't stand the idea of you not making a perfect recovery," Kageyama replies. "Who else could keep up with me?"

tsukkiyama: Yamaguchi likes to tease Tsukki over his lack of other friends. "You're too mean, you scare them away!" and "You're gonna have one lonely birthday if the only person who bothers to show up is me!" The last time he said this, though, Tsukki had replied with: "You're enough." and Yamaguchi still hasn't quite gotten over it yet. They celebrate his birthday just the two of them that year.

arankita: Aran came over to help on the farm over spring break. He didn't have to - between you and me, he hated that kind of physical labour anyway - but it was a way to spend a little more time with Kita before they graduated. At the end of the break, Kita surprises him by giving him a key to the house, "for emergencies," just in case. When Aran blusters and tries to ask why, Kita says: "I trust you." Considering Kita has never trusted anything except for himself and his own actions, Aran isn't sure any spoken sentiment could have meant more in that moment.

#haikyuu ships #daisuga #iwaoi #ushiten #kagehina #tsukkiyama #arankita

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kiyo-cant-write · 2 months ago

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hey, this is my first time sending a req, but can you write azul learning that reader has a crush on jade? like they tell azul and whenever they’re asked why they like him, they say something like “he’s cute” or “he’s so babygirl” or something and they’re just totally smitten

sorry if reqs aren’t open! ty <3

reader with a crush on jade talking to azul ✧･ﾟ

Thank you for requesting! Yes, they are open (for anyone wondering!) Very happy to write some biases because I have a personal situation atm that is very stressful for me /gen pos

I love this request and I am excited to tackle it. I saw a few ways for this to go and ultimately went with the most comedic route!

So I am sorry if you wanted unrequited love, pining, and angst. Feel free to request again with more details if you think my take wasn't what you were looking for xD

Anyways, enjoy!! ^^

Summary: [Name] has one person on their mind and his name is Jade Leech. However, the person they choose to share these sentiments with is Azul Ashengrotto, owner and proprietor of the Mostro Lounge. And he is so happy to hear about it (/s)

TW/CW: None

Notes: gender-neutral reader, the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, they/them pronouns for the reader, pre-relationship Jade/Reader but Jade isn't really present for most of it in narrative-

Guest Stars: Floyd Leech, Jade Leech (mentioned, brief)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Azul Ashnegrotto (& Jade Leech)

Azul is annoyed from the moment it comes up.

He thinks that this meeting will be about business and instead... It's about Jade. Jade? Not even the twins, literally JUST JADE.

He wants to sigh but withholds it for the first half to be polite.

[Name] is very passionate in their rant[?] about Jade.

They say many phrases that Azul does not understand.

He knows many things... slang just isn't one of those things.

He hardly understands why they are so captivated by Jade.

Jade isn't a bad person, outright, but to Azul, he's just... been there. The same could be said of Jade's twin brother, Floyd.

Azul wants this interaction to be over, it's awkward.

But [Name] did not answer, they just kept on yapping. /ref

This is getting tiring for the young merman. What even... is this?

As it continues, Azul finds himself starting to see their point.

This octomer maybe realizes that he is bisexual during this interaction. But he's not sure he wants to think about that yet.

He does not intend to help [Name] woo Jade unless they ask.

Floyd is also there. Being Floyd.

Azul was quite sure he didn't plan for this today. It wasn't on his schedule, he couldn't imagine why it would be. Who let them in? He sighed at the thought. He knew that this was an esteemed guest of the Mostro Lounge, he should be nice to them, they were a "friend" to him now, after all... And he valued them within reason...

Floyd had gone as far as to say that he and [Name] were the "best" friends of the group. Azul didn't really care. But he supposed the value must be true if the twins were interested. Jade seemed equally enthusiastic about this when it had been discussed.

Sigh. But this? This was pressing every button he had in the worst of ways and he was having trouble ignoring it. Every word grated on his last nerve and made him want to scream (and that would not be good for his image!).

"[Name]..." he began, only to be cut off by their (ongoing) speech.

"Azul! Don't you just love Jade?"

Azul paused. What? What did [Name] just ask me? Had he misheard them? He had to have misheard them. There was no way...

Composing himself, he answered.

"He is an associate of mine, yes—"

He was cut off by [Name] before he could finish the sentence.

"But isn't he dreamy?" they asked him.

Double what? Oh, this was happening. Joy.

"Well, you see—" Azul began, trying once more to explain before he was cut off again by the over-excited Prefect of Ramshackle.

"I just think he's so babygirl."

"You... what?" Azul said, turning to them with enough force to be cause for worry about the state of his neck.

"I said—" [Name] attempted to repeat before he cut them off.

"No, I heard you," Azul told them, "You consider Jade as a woman?"

This had to be some kind of land thing. Right? That, or he was once again spending too much time with books and not enough time with real people. It was just as his mother and grandmother had always said back home under the sea. He sighed at the very memory of it.

"No?" [Name] said, "Well, I mean, unless I should. Should I?"

Azul thought about it for a moment. Jade wasn't one to care about gender but he had never mentioned anything about womanhood. Noting that he answered their question with honesty.

"...He hasn't said anything to me about the matter."

"Oh, good. I wouldn't want to misgender Jade."

[Name] seemed relieved.

"You. I. You?" for a moment, Azul was at a loss for words, "Nevermind. [Name], what in the world has you so captivated with Jade today?"

They seemed to melt a little at the mention of Jade's name. They were clearly... invested in Jade. Surely this wasn't normal? Was it?

"He's just so—"

Azul sighed, cutting them off to explain he understood the concept.

"A young girl, I heard you the first time," the octomer said.

"He's just so perfect I can't even right now!!" [Name] gushed.

A second sigh escaped Azul, he wanted this moment to end. It was painfully awkward to hear about his... colleague like this. Not to mention inappropriate! They should just go tell Jade about this interest they had. Why him? What did he do to invite this?

"That makes two of us, though my frustration hardly lies with Jade."

"Hm?" [Name] asked, confused by the statement.

What did Azul mean by that, exactly?

"Nothing, nothing," Azul assured them through gritted teeth.

Like that, [Name] was back on their Jade high.

"Just... Jade."

"Indeed, er, I suppose," Azul said, relishing in the quiet that grew between them as [Name] observed Jade working from afar.

Jade and Floyd were waiting tables today. Floyd had complained that he was not in a "cooking mood" and decided that running orders around the lounge was much more "fun." That one gave Azul a headache, but that was normal.

Regardless, Azul only had one thought as [Name] watched Jade...

Silence! Sevens, finally.

But as he took a moment alone with the subject, his mind wandered down every path that [Name] had suggested about Jade, about the world. What would be different if Jade were a woman? Was Jade attractive? These were possibilities that Azul had never entertained.

It was enough to push toward a headache if he wasn't careful. Too much new information could be harmful to the mind, he knew this well. But it was something that his thoughts seemed to hook into, holding on tightly as if to say "Try to take this from me."

Azul's mind was a montage of every moment between himself and Jade (Floyd was also there but that was not important at the moment) since they had come to land. From Land Camp to Night Raven College... He had spent a lot of time with Jade.

Had something changed? For him? Jade? Anyone? Floyd?

...Maybe not Floyd. Unless? Hm, the twins in this light. Men in this light. Men? Men? Oh, dear. Well... it was something to think on. Something to not tell Mother, or Grandmother... or Stepfather...

"..."

He stood silently until [Name] poked his shoulder.

"Uhm... Azul? Are you okay?" they asked him, seeming a tad worried.

"Hm? I am fine, I suppose. You've given me something to..." the octomer trailed off for a moment, "Think on, I suppose."

"I did?" they asked, confused at the statement.

He didn't want to elaborate on this just yet. Too soon, far too soon.

"You did," he told them, "Just some... New information."

"Oh," [Name] said, "You're welcome, then?"

They laughed albeit a bit awkwardly as they spoke.

"SHRIMPY!!" a voice rang out from across the room.

Ah, they were noticed by a moray. The moray was sprinting toward them, closing in. Closer, closer... Target acquired. Squeeze. It was much gentler than when Azul instructed Floyd with clients.

"Hi, Floyd!" [Name] greeted him.

"Heyy," Floyd offered, "What are you doing with Azul, huh? Is he keeping you to himself?~"

[Name] tilted their head to the side at the question. What did Floyd mean by that? They liked Jade. They thought Floyd knew that but they shrugged it off as a Floyd-ism.

"We were just chatting," they told him.

"Maa, sounds boring! Wanna come play with me?"

Azul was almost thankful that there was a distraction from his obvious inner confusion. He had to hand it to Floyd's eccentricities, they came in handy sometimes (not often, but sometimes).

The eelmer picked up the human and slung them over his shoulder with ease. This was why people were scared of Floyd. He has monstrous physical strength.

"Eh?? Floyd, where are we going?" [Name] asked him, holding onto his shoulder to keep from accidentally falling onto the floor.

"We're playing 'Let's Bother Jade'!" Floyd told them, running toward his brother at the same speed he'd run towards [Name] earlier.

Azul turned to see Floyd (and [Name]) inches from colliding with Jade (who was holding 4 plates of food)...

Imagine the rest for yourself~

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

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